Poughkeepsie Begins (The Poughkeepsie Brotherhood #0.5) (3 page)

Beckett knew these girls; they were everywhere. But like expensive bullshit behind the glass windows at the downtown shops, she was only meant to be looked at. One of the football meatheads would get her under his arm soon enough, and she might even let him get to second base. He’d of course go out and screw a slut while his balls were blue, but he would treat her reverently. She was somebody’s future wife, and probably a woman with her own plans too. She was just waiting on age to catch up to her.

“No need to thank me. You’re going to do all the work.” He raised his eyebrows at the worksheet.

“No, thanks for the tip about my headache. Useful.” She put the eraser on the end of the pencil to her mouth. Her damn lips were so full.

“Here to help.” Beckett crossed his arms in front of him and watched the pencil spell out answers that appeared to be thoughtful and well-versed in the subject matter. It was soothing, the way she wrote: fancy print, slightly slanted. Before he knew it, he felt a hand on his cheek. He snatched her wrist hard, startled by the touch.

“Oh! Sorry, the bell is about to ring. I didn’t want you to miss it.” He turned her hand over and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“Thanks. I wake up fighting, though. Better to toss stuff at me.” He slung his bag over his shoulder as Zyler sauntered up, blocking his view of Candy.

“Want me to look at your schedule? I could take you to your classes?” Zyler put on his most charming smile. Fucking guy had his football jacket over one arm. Son of a bitch.

As Beckett shifted, he expected to see Candy smiling up at her future husband, but instead she leaned around, looking for him.

“Actually, Beckett, I had one more question about what we were discussing. Can you show me to math?”

He nodded and held out his hand for her schedule.

Zyler made noise of disapproval. “Wrong move, new girl. He’s a—”

She held up her hand, stopping his words. “What you say about Beckett tells me more about who you are than who he is. So don’t be a dick.”

Candy stepped around Zyler as Beckett made sizzling sounds. “Burn, baby, burn. Shit, Tyler, she may be too smart for you.”

“It’s
Zyler
.”

“Zyler, Tyler, all the same to me. Suck my cock very much.” Beckett waved Candy through the desks while holding his middle finger up for Zyler to inspect.

Candy walked to the door before tossing her hair over her shoulder, waiting for him.

Shit, he had a boner. Her silky black hair was straight as a fucking arrow. Her two-colored eyes would only look better if she was naked. She gave him a small smile that let him know her head was still hurting.

He double-timed it to the doorway, glancing at her schedule. He knew where her math was because it was the classroom where they’d held in-school suspension during the recent renovations.

“Your math is right there.” He pointed to the doorway in the distance. “Excuse me, your
advanced
math is right there. Smarty pants. And your health class is here.” He pointed to another door. “And your government class is there. And your computer lab—that’s a cushy one—is there.”

“All my classes are in the same hallway?” She stopped outside the door of math.

“Nope. That was all total bullshit. Except for math I have no idea where all these rooms are. I try to point myself in the right direction, and sometimes I end up in the right place.”

She shook her head and laughed, taking her schedule back. “So I did all our classwork, and you can’t tell me jack about the school. What a great first friend I met.”

He gently touched the spot on her hand he’d indicated earlier. “Not completely useless, right?”

“True. And my head is getting a bit better. So thanks.” She folded her schedule and pulled her backpack from her shoulder, tucking the paper into a pocket. “I’ll find my way around.”

“Smyler is always ready to help,” he teased.

“Last thing I need is a dickhead following me around.” Candy looked up and down the hallway, glancing at the numbers above the doors. She had a natural pink to her cheeks. He wanted to place a kiss on one.

“You have a curse-y face. Second
dick
out of your mouth since I met you.” He wrinkled his nose as she shook her head.

“I only curse when I’m in pain.”

“Sorry about that. You better get to class. And you probably have lunch after that,” he said, gesturing behind her.

“What? This is the cafeteria?” She turned and looked over her shoulder at the very plain classroom.

“Well, you eat lunch there when you have in-school suspension. I’ve got a frequent flyer card for that particular treat. You’ll eat lunch with the good kids that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.

“You work hard at this bad boy thing.” She smiled again.

Straight, white teeth framed by her pretty mouth. Shit, he really needed to get out of dodge.

“Is it working?” he asked.

“Nooo…” She held the syllable. “Not at all.”

“Ouch. Mylar isn’t the only guy getting burned around here.”

“Just saying, you work hard at the bad-guy front.”

They held each other’s gaze a second longer than teenagers should, exchanging a tiny bit of understanding. He winked to end the connection.

“Good luck, new girl. Hope you make it out of Poughkeepsie East alive.”

She smiled as the second bell sounded. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

He nodded. “Usually.” He shrugged as she closed the door between them.

He liked her. Beckett leaned against the wall in the now-empty hallway. He could play football. Land a girl like her. He knew the game. Strong as fuck. The coach had approached him a few times when he’d subbed in the In-School Intervention room.

“We can use this anger. You need an outlet, son,” he’d said. “Nothing like getting the crap kicked out of you daily to get that handled. Sitting in this ISI room gets you nowhere.”

Beckett had scoffed at the irony. The man didn’t understand how wrong his words were. “Yeah, that doesn’t always work.”

Coach had clamped Beckett on the shoulder and squeezed. Beckett had worked not to show the pain the contact caused him. Rick had wailed into that very body part the night before.

His reminiscing was interrupted by a familiar face: the assistant principal. “Oh, Mr. Taylor. Fancy meeting you here. And let me guess, you dropped your hall pass? I think you love ISI. Is that why you’re stalking it? You know we had the new room named after you.”

“That’s mighty kind of you, sir. I like leaving a legacy.”

“All right, don’t be a wise guy. Where are you supposed to be?” The AP tapped his foot.

“Chem, I think. See what happens to young gentlemen such as myself? I’m being held down so much—” he added flailing hands to his dramatics “—I don’t even know my schedule.” Beckett took a quick peek into Candy’s classroom. She was listening intently.

The AP didn’t miss a trick. “The new girl. Maybe it’s time to start a new chapter, Beckett. Just follow the rules, and do your work. Then socializing could be in your future. School dances wouldn’t be off limits. Et cetera. The winter formal is coming up.” He gestured for Beckett to walk toward the science labs.

“Zyler’s already making the moves, Mr. Gold. His family’s one of the rich ones.”

Beckett actually liked the AP. He was fair. And hard to ruffle.

“Zyler Merchant? Yeah. They’re loaded. Own car dealerships all over town. But that doesn’t put you out of the running.” The man stopped his long steps, and Beckett halted as well.

Mr. Gold pulled a pack of passes out of his pocket and signed one quickly. He held the paper when Beckett tried to take it.

Instantly Beckett clenched his jaw, ready for a fight. He didn’t like tricks, not even harmless ones like a paper tug of war.

“I can get you a real good deal on the tickets. You stay out of ISI, and we’ll consider you paid up for two.”

Beckett knew in his heart that the man meant well. He was a good one—the kind that slipped gift cards in his locker, new jackets for the little kids in his house too. It was fucking cold in New York.

Beckett let go of the pass and backed up a step.

“No, thanks. I’m cool.” He held his hands in the air.

Mr. Gold stepped forward, not one to give up easily, holding out the pass in earnest this time. “I’m not trying to shame you into this. I just know, okay? I know sometimes it would have been great to take a chance…” He trailed off.

Beckett bet the man’s quiet was a direct reaction to the shield he’d put up. Beckett rubbed a hand down his face.

“Mr. Gold, if you wanted to take a girl to a dance…” Beckett looked at the man’s shoes. “Wouldn’t you want to pay for the ticket yourself?”

The AP sighed. Beckett started backing away, point made. He had no intention of taking handouts from the AP.

“At least take the pass. You don’t have to spend every damn day breaking the rules.” Mr. Gold held it out again.

Beckett nodded and trotted back up to snatch it, this time with no resistance. “Thanks, bro.”

“I’m not your bro. Don’t call me that.” The AP turned on his heel and left Beckett to do the right thing.

And Beckett wanted to jog right out the back door, find the other stoners, and smoke away the shame he tasted in the back of his throat. Instead he pulled open the science lab door and walked in, silently offering a tribute to Mr. Gold, who was still hoping for a lost cause.

Damn Knight

“C
ANDY
C
OX
?”

Candy wished with every letter of the alphabet that teachers would sometimes skip taking attendance. Or just call her Candy. But no, her full given name always had to be uttered. Her dad was military, so she’d done this time-honored ritual a lot. And just when people got used to her name, she’d find herself sitting in a new school with a stress headache listening to a new group of people react.

The snickering started anew.

“Here.” She was the only new kid. Or that’s how it seemed. The school was big, but for sure not the largest she’d been to. Couldn’t the teacher just identify people by their faces?

Her internal question was answered—the answer again
no
—when the woman wrote her name on the board and told the class to do the odd-numbered review questions in the back of the book because their regular teacher was in meetings. Zyler hustled in, clutching a pass, and Candy sighed.

“Sorry I’m late, ma’am.” He gave her a confident smile. The teacher nodded and slid the pass into her folder.

Zyler took the seat in front of Candy as she raised her hand to tell the teacher she didn’t have a textbook yet.

He pulled the book out of his backpack and twisted in his chair. “Looking for one of these?”

She nodded.

“We can share it, if that’s okay. I don’t want to be a dick.”

He had deep brown eyes and a mop of wild hair. It covered one eye. He was hot and confident. She was used to his type: alpha male who wanted to pee on the new tree first. She’d made the mistake in the past of going on a date or two with guys just like him, only to find them talking trash about the “wild sex” they’d had with her—even though she was still a virgin in the real world.

Zyler flipped open the pages and lay the book between them, turning in his seat to put his paper next to hers.

“Just don’t cheat off me. I’m a numbers wizard.” He smiled again.

She gave him a small chuckle. “Wizard, huh?”

“You should see my wand.”

“You are predictable.” She looked at the first problem. They’d already covered this material at her last high school, so she got started.

“And you are frigid.” He also wrote down the first number.

She sighed. The frigid bullshit again.

He touched her hand. “I’m kidding. You’re fine. I can’t imagine what it’s like coming in senior year to a new school.”

“Second school this year, so I’m used to it.” She tried to do her calculations, but there wasn’t much room on her desk.

“Military?” He was already on number three.

“Yeah. How’d you know?” She jotted down her answer.

“We got the base nearby, so we get your kind a lot: friendly, fun, and cute. And just when you get attached, they get reassigned. It’s a bitch. You all could be assholes. It would make it easier on those of us left behind.” He smiled again.

She had to give him points for the backhanded compliments. “We do what we have to. And we
are
nice.” She started on problem number three.

“So do you have a…” He paused as the teacher stood from her desk and walked the perimeter of the classroom.

Candy knew what was next,
a boyfriend
. She mentally prepared her answer, deciding she might have a long-distance one this time, just to avoid the inevitable cock joke.

He finished his statement. “…dog?”

She was so ready for the boyfriend question, she laughed. “What?”

“Do you have a dog? I ask because you have hair on your sweater.”

She looked down and sure enough, Pilot’s black hair covered the arm of her soft cardigan. “Yes. Yes, I do. Pilot’s his name. He’s black, as you can see.”

“Me too. Her name is Butter. Yellow lab. I love that dog something awful.” Zyler pulled out his wallet after finishing up number five and held up a worn picture of his dog. She was adorable. “I’ve had her since I was eleven. She’s my pup.”

Candy touched the nose of the dog in the picture. “She friendly?”

“She’s a cupcake. Sweetest thing. Loves everyone. Yesterday she was trying to make friends with a squirrel. Hilarious. Is Pilot friendly?” Zyler tilted his head and gave her his full attention.

“Yeah. He’s a lab too and way too friendly. He’s a licker.”

In between math problems they swapped stories about their dogs’ personalities. Zyler finished first and offered Candy his textbook for the homework.

“I can’t take your book; you’ll need it.” She waved it away.

“It’s totally okay. One of the guys on the team has this same class. I’ll grab his book after practice. It won’t take me long.”

She agreed, and as she was putting the book into her bag, he asked for her schedule. When she showed him, he explained quickly how to get around using the map she had in her new-student folder.

“I’m headed past your next class,” he told her. “I’ll take you there.” He took her backpack and his.

Now he’s a gentleman? So many years of moving from place to place had given Candy a leeriness, but also a pretty good ability to read people. Zyler was a little confusing. He’d definitely been an ass to Beckett. Was he nervous? Why did he have it in for her English partner?

As they walked to class, he steered her out of the way of oncoming traffic and used his huge football body to clear a path through the busy hallway. When they got to her class, he handed her the bag.

“See you at lunch! We have the same one. Come find me. I’ll save you a space.”

Candy thanked him and took her bag. As she turned to walk into her classroom, she saw him. Beckett watched her while leaning against the wall. He nodded when their eyes met through the hustling groups of kids. She was about to wave, but after a particularly large group passed, he was gone—like he’d never been standing there at all.

She walked into the classroom and readied herself for roll to be called again. She found the next of her classes on her own, and then the big hurdle was getting to the cafeteria. All the kids seemed to be throwing their backpacks into their lockers, but Candy didn’t have one yet. Being a military brat made her a master at appearing confident, but inside she quaked a little. Lunchtime was always the hardest. It could be the longest thirty minutes of her life if she didn’t find a place to sit.

Her tried-and-true method was to find a small group of kids who looked like they didn’t fit in. She could sit with them no matter what and make other friends later, if needed. And if the first group she chose was friendly, she would find safety there.

The Poughkeepsie East cafeteria was a cavernous space that echoed with shouts and waves of conversation. Candy took a deep breath. There were at least three hundred kids in the room, and it felt like all eyes were on her as she stepped down the center aisle.

She hazarded a glance around the room. Most of the tables were crowded. She wondered if the seniors sat in the back of the room for lunch. She heard her name weaving through the collage of noise. Such fun to say
Candy Cox
. Even at seventeen or eighteen years old, kids still loved that first easy joke.

Toward the front of the room sat a single guy touching a piece of cardboard. He seemed like a safe bet. She walked over and interrupted his concentration.

“Excuse me, can I sit here?”

He looked up from his hands and met her eyes. “Sure. I’m Blake Hartt. And you are?” He stood and waved his hand to the other side of the table like a thirty-five-year-old maître d’.

“Candy.”

There was an awkward pause as he waited for her last name. She looked at the crumpled lunch bag in her hand. “Candy Cox.”

There was no snickering, just a kind smile. “Nice to meet you.”

She sat and exhaled. “God, I hate the first day at lunch.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked down at his cardboard again.

“Practicing piano?” She motioned to the faint keyboard outlined on it.

He nodded.

“That’s great. I used to play violin.”

“What happened to it?” He started to pick out soundless notes.

Candy opened her sandwich and took a bite before answering. “It was a rental, and when I moved to the next school, it was too late to get one for the semester. I just let it drop.”

“Do you do anything musical?” He seemed to be humming to himself.

“I like to sing. In my shower. And in chorus.” She let him have the silence again, eating. She preferred to eat with a quiet partner than a crowded table full of friends who had known each other for years.

Then the seat next to Blake was filled. The boy had clear blue eyes and mocha skin. He had such a serious demeanor.

Blake introduced them formally. Cole Bridge nodded as Blake presented him as his brother. He didn’t make fun of her name, and she didn’t ask why the two looked nothing alike.

They were a quiet pair, but made an effort to include her, asking how the day was going. Blake asked a few other questions, politely listening to her answers. Still, she felt a little like an intruder.

“Do you guys need privacy? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” She began to pick up her trash, scanning the room for another option.

As she did, she saw Zyler making his way toward her with easily ten other guys, all in football jackets. As she turned to tell her tablemates they might have company, she noticed they were already standing. Blake had rolled up his piano and tucked it into his back pocket. Cole watched the crowd with the hard look of a criminal.

What the hell had she gotten in the center of?

Blake hopped the table to stand in front of Candy. She put her hand gently on his back, leaning forward. “Zyler talked to me in class today. He was super nice.” Blake nodded once to let her know he’d heard her.

Candy looked around for a teacher, but saw none.

“Hey, Candy Cox,” a boy shouted in her direction.

Zyler slapped him in the chest. “Don’t scare her away, Dunns.”

Dunns ignored Zyler. “Looks like you’re getting in with a bad crowd. And you sure look like a nice girl.” Dunns looked her up and down thoroughly. “Real nice.”

Zyler stepped in front of him. “Ignore him; he’s an asshole. I thought we were sitting together? You and me?” Zyler stepped closer to Blake.

“I didn’t see you, so I sat here. And these guys were kind enough to let me.” Candy put her hand on Blake’s shoulder, trying to get him to move out of her way. She didn’t want a fight on her first day because she had somehow picked the wrong place to sit.

“These guys are trash, Candy Cox. Worst kind. Seriously.” Dunns was posturing, and the guys behind made loud thumping noises.

“I’ll make up my own mind about people,” Candy countered. “Listen, I’ll come sit with you now. It’s not a problem.”

She didn’t like the looks of the situation. Quiet Cole had veins pulsing in his neck. Blake seemed calm, but she noticed he was clenching and unclenching his fists.

Shit was about to go down.

“You stupid fuckheads. You don’t learn a goddamn lesson.” All of the sudden the atmosphere changed to electric. Beckett walked into the space between the two groups like he was legally in charge of it. “Have you forgotten our locker room tango already? And Dunns. You get a new mattress, or did you just flip it over after I made you piss it this weekend?” Beckett was on fire. He was magnetic like this, easy. Swaggering. She couldn’t look away.

Dunns turned a violent shade of purple. She’d never seen a guy get so angry.

The rest of the cafeteria stood on the tables, some chanting, “Fight! Fight!”

“You foster home pieces of trash. No one wants you here, and you know it.” Dunns pointed, spitting with his words.

And then it made sense why Cole and Blake looked nothing alike. And Beckett too, it seemed. Foster kids.

Candy stepped up on the table where she’d just eaten her lunch using Blake’s shoulder for balance. He held out his hand to assist her, which she took. She thanked him in a murmur as she moved around him.

Cole cleared his throat, and when she looked at him, he shook his head. He didn’t want her getting involved.

Too late. By the time she got to the front, Dunns and Beckett were toe to toe. Neither had thrown a punch, but clearly they wanted to. Candy moved next to Zyler and touched his arm. He looked down at her.

“I’ll come to your table. Make him stop.” She nodded toward Dunns.

Zyler put his arm around her in a stupid, claiming-type gesture. She slipped out from under it.

“Make him stop.”

She could see all three brothers now. The weariness in Cole and Blake’s faces broke her heart. They were used to it, this spectacle in front of them. Being told loudly and forcefully that they were trash was common, judging from their lack of response.

Beckett, though—holy crap! He was damn near luminous, his deep blue eyes filled with delight. The muscles under his black T-shirt tensed. He spared her a quick look, blowing her a kiss like a damn knight on a horse, ready to fall for his queen. She had clearly romanticized the whole thing in her head. She’d never been so close to something like this before. She finally walked into the eye of the storm and pushed at both guys.

Neither would have moved from the force of her hands alone, but Beckett allowed her to push him back. She slid between their chests.

She whispered, “Please tell your brothers I said thank you for letting me sit with them. I’m going to sit with Zyler now.”

He glared at the whole crowd behind her. She felt Dunns’ chest move away from her back and saw him stagger to her left, Zyler having pulled him away.

Finally Beckett looked at her face. “Really?”

She nodded because that’s all she had. Her words were curled in her stomach, huddled with the butterflies he gave her. Male, dominant, barely in control. He looked so much older than a senior in high school as he waited for more from her.

“I’m not scared of these pussies.” He spoke to her but pointed at the retreating football team.

A teacher finally arrived on the scene looking for information. No one was answering her. Zyler sat down at the edge of the closest table—full of freshmen—when the teacher demanded they all go back to their seats.