Carli
Kato left me standing like a statue in the middle of the boarding area with the weight of my sisters’ lives in my hands. I was born into this just like them, but I’m firstborn. I know what it means. I know what it means to my life, and how everything I’ve avoided for years will become my new norm. This is not what I had in mind when I started this week. Now I have five days to decide, or leave them to this fate—or lack of fate—dangling by a knife’s edge.
“Miss? Is everything okay?”
I’ve been hiding in the first-class bathroom of the plane for almost three hours. “I’m fine. I’ll be out shortly.” Well, as soon as I fix the runny mascara that’s streaming down my face.
Sniffling slightly, I wipe my dangerous thoughts away, hoping I look at least presentable when I exit the tiny cupboard. Checking my reflection a few more times, the reminder of who I am peeks out under my thin, shoulder cuff shirt. Pulling it back reveals the meticulous design, and I stare. The perfection of it—the flaws of the ink, the intricate loops, lines, and colors—all signs of the position I’m being forced into. The dragon awakens.
When I was young, I knew what the life entailed and what the world around me expected in regimented performance. The traditional requirements of it when I became of age caused me to run. The fight to rebel as I saw the dirtier side of it became a strong component as to why I left my family behind. My sisters. I left Kano and Miori to deal with this.
There’s a tap on the door again. “Miss, we really need you to exit.”
“Coming,” I say, unlocking the door.
Stepping out, the stewardess’ shocked expression reflects my own. “That bad, huh?”
Closing her mouth, she gives me a tight grin. “It’s that bad a day?”
“Couldn’t get better.” Why am I clearing my soul to an unknown woman?
“How about a couple mini bottles on me?” She hands over two small bottles of whiskey, and unbeknownst to her, she’s brightened my day.
“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ve already had my fill of Whiskey today.”
She takes them back and pockets them. “Can you get back to your seat then, please, Miss? We’re about to land.”
Nodding, I make my way back to the seat, reveling in the reminder of Mr. Crown and his apt nickname. I really didn’t think the gruff, growly, grouchy Hercules knew how to be such a sweet person. I was amazed and thrilled to see how gentle a person he could be. Watching him eat like a rabbit, his manners were unexpectedly perfect, and there was not one qualm about eating something that wouldn’t fill a toddler.
Plus, he didn’t make a move on me. He wanted to know me, to give him a piece of the one thing I can’t. No one knows me, and it’s in their best interests. I can’t tell them why. I can’t give them what they want, and I hate that I’m so hidden all the time. There are times I want to. Even the governor doesn’t know me. Fake ID, a great backstory that prompts no questions, and no interaction that would be questionable.
“We will be landing shortly. Please, upright all trays and seats. Thank you for flying with us today, and we wish you a lovely day in Indianapolis.” The announcement chimes, pulling me from my musings. Shaking the final touches of my ‘poor me’ attitude away, I attach my seatbelt and prepare for the decent, plastering on that ‘fuck you world’ mask I wear so well.
Jamieson
Plastered on the front page of the paper, Cop A Feel blasts my little sister with horrible publicity once more. She said she could handle the Crown and Anchor fundraiser. She said “No worries. I got this James.” No, she didn’t.
The day before her arraignment and she’s on the front page of The Times with a cop’s slick hands riding up her leg. Fuck, Doll!
Dialing one of her friends, she picks up on the second ring. “Well hello, gorgeous. How’s the day so far?”
Harlow. Why did I think it was a good idea to call her? “Hi, Harlow. Don’t bullshit me. How is she?”
As the line is quiet for a moment longer than I’d like, she clears her throat. “Not good. Last night was a shit show. CD broke. You’ve seen the paper I assume?”
“Yeah. That about sums it up.” Reading the front page isn’t the worst of what China will have to deal with, but there’s not much I can do to fix something like this for her. I wish I could.
I may not have been around a great deal as she grew up, but I always kept tabs on her and Wyatt through Cassidy and Ciccero. I wasn’t a total heartless creep. I wanted to keep them at a distance as I felt it was best for them, but they’re still my family and they’re important to me.
“Tell me what happened, Har. I’m keeping Wyatt out of it, but I need to know what she’s up against.” Pacing my hotel room, I’m in a state of half-dressed distress. Tossing on a shirt, preparing for the meeting I have in a bit, I listen to her drone on about the whole affair. From her outfit blunder, to the collapse on stage, to the crazy ‘cop a feel’ on the front page. I’m blown away by it all. I can’t believe the shit my little sister can find herself in.
Fucking Doll.
“Thanks, Har. Let me know what happens at court, okay?”
“I thought you were coming?” Fuck yeah, I was.
“Sorry, can’t. Wish I could, Har, but…” I don’t want to tell her I have to go see the lawyers at the same damn time. It’ll cause China further stress, and it doesn’t seem like she’s taking stress well. “Take care of her.”
“She’s going to be pissed at you, Whiskey. You know your sister. She’s going to fucking lose it on you for not showing.”
Don’t I know it. “Can’t avoid it.”
Sighing into the phone, I know Harlow is biting her tongue. When Harlow’s being the sane one, you know shit is fucked.
“Jamieson Crown, you’ll owe me an explanation for why I’m lying to your sister if she asks me.”
Yeah, I know that, too. “Tell her I’ll call her later if she needs a rundown.”
“You owe me, gorgeous. Don’t think I’ll forget it. I’ll come calling, and you’ll pony up, Mister.”
I know that, too. “Thanks, Harlow. Gotta go.” Hanging up, leaning on the bank of windows, I try my best to control the steam rising in my soul.
Fuck, I hate this. I’m not sure why the lawyers even want to see me. Being cut out of the will years ago, it’s had no impact on me at all. None of it makes a difference in my life anyway. I’ll fly home, hit the snow and never look back. Maybe that’s part of the problem, I won’t look back. My brother and sister are fair weather riders, where I’m a snow and cold kind of guy. We’ll never see each other unless we make the effort to travel.
Closing off my mind to the possible reasons as to why they want to see me, I head out to deal with the sharks—I mean, lawyers.
Driving down to their office, my mind is a blur of thoughts. I’ve done everything I can to ignore the death that surrounds me. I’ve tried to be strong. I’ve tried to keep it together for them. Wyatt can’t deal with this shit, his mind is made up of fragile walls at best, and if last night is any indication, China’s hanging on by a thread, too.
I hope her shit goes well today. I wish to hell I was there for her. Yeah, lawyers are assholes, that’s a given, but why subpoena me for the same time? It’s like they want us separated.
Maybe that’s it. They want us apart, divided.
Damn, I’m gonna have to be on my toes today.
~~~~~~~~~
Traffic was evil. Snarling through every street, I reached the office with only twenty minutes to spare. Looking up at the glass and steel monstrosity, all I see is a temple to power. The gleaming brightness of it reminds me of how much I hate the heat. It bounces off the building, creating steaming tendrils of tangible California sunshine. Walking in, the strong air conditioning cools me instantly, thankfully.
“Hello, Mr. Crown,” the young woman behind the front desks greets me. Her candy sweet smile beams as she sits up just a touch straighter.
Jelly bean, fender bender girl. “Nice to see you again,” I tell her, then ask, “How’s the car?”
She grins. “Dinged, but that’s what it’s for.” Rising from behind the desk, she motions for me to walk with her. “They’re waiting for you in the meeting room.”
I don’t want to drag this out, I want it over fast, so I follow as directed, even as I rail against it internally. “My mom can’t meet with you today as she’s in court—”
“With my sister. Yeah, I know. I’m supposed to be there, too.”
Grimacing slightly, she continues on. “Sorry about that.” With a soft knock on the door ahead of us, she turns the knob and moves to the side for me to enter first. “I’m sure they didn’t expect—”
“Kimmy!” a sharp voice calls out from the interior of the room, effectively cutting her off. Watching her sweet smile disappear from the quick reprimand, Kimmy steps away, closing the door behind her without another word.
Turning to address the boisterous gentleman at the end, I decide to wait. He doesn’t deserve it yet. I look around the room instead of giving him my attention. It’s exactly what I’d expect a lawyer’s meeting room to contain. Sparsely decorated, the room is devoid of character—no artwork, neutral walls, a long black and steel table, and chairs spaced perfectly along each side. Regimented and stark. Not very inviting at all.
Clearing his throat, attempting to garner a reaction, he speaks. “Jamieson. Glad you could meet with us. I’m Carter Kelly, and this is Miss Mann.”
Yeah, I want this over, but I’m not going to let them think I’m glad to do it. “Not much of a choice when you subpoena me. And I’m Mr. Crown to you. Now, tell me why I’m here.”
With of wave of his hand, Mr. Kelly motions for me to join him and the young woman in attendance at the end. He sits at the head of the table, expressly meant to show power, as she sits on the right of him. His comb-over is stringy. His dark red complexion shows horrible blood pressure, and his huffing breath gives away he doesn’t care for his health. She on the other hand is well kept, with curly hair that’s neat, a nice pant suit that is tailored but loose fitting, and a sweet demeanor.
Rising, grinning tightly, she pulls out a chair a few down from her side. Instead of taking the offered chair, I walk down the opposite side to select one directly across. Pulling it out, sitting with a ‘fuck you’ smile, I look for a reaction from the pasty man.
Sucking in a breath, he narrows his gaze. “Thank you again for coming down here. We have a few things to discuss, and I hope you don’t mind giving us a few moments of your time.”
“I’d rather be with my sister, so let’s get on with it,” I say sharply.
“As you suggest.” He flips open a file. “You know that the late Jaxon and Marca Crown had adjusted their wills a few years back. If you remember, you left abruptly during the meeting. As they were still in charge of their full affairs, Jaxon felt it was best to leave you alone and readdress the subject at a later date. The later date was unfortunately—”
“Can you get on with it? I know what happened, I don’t need a history lesson. They’d pulled me from anything that had to do with Crown Industries just before my twenty-fifth birthday. I don’t need you to run it down again.”
He smirks. “True. But you missed a few crucial components of the documents, Mr. Crown.” He passes over a stapled stack of papers. “If you would look that over, you’ll see that not all is as you assumed. Please note the purple tab on page nineteen.”
Picking up the sheets, I begin to read through them, and pause at a particular portion. Rereading it a few times, I’m taken aback. “What does this clause nine mean?”
“I don’t think you’re a stupid man, Mr. Crown. It means exactly as you suspect.”
Reading it again, I try grasping the full impact of the wording.
In the event of the untimely death of both Mr. Jaxon Crown and Mrs. Marca Crown, if one Wyatt Jaxson Crown and one China Marie Crown are found unfit to run the affairs of Crown Industries, whether by mental or physical inability, one Jamieson Harris Crown will take full control of Crown Industries, the Crown properties, and the care of his remaining family at that time.
“Wyatt is awake and—”
“Yes, we’re quite aware that Wyatt is awake, but as for mental and physical capacity to perform duties, that is yet to be determined.”
Sitting still, listening to this man tell me that a clause can adjust my brother and sister’s lives seems ludicrous. I can’t even fathom the idea that these lawyers, who were expected to look after our parents’ affairs, are wanting to tear it all down. Whether by a malicious need or a gratification for them, I’m unsure.
I’m pissed. No, I’m beyond pissed. Rising out of the chair, pushing it back against the wall, it crashes as I stare down at the wheezing man. “So you brought me here to tell me you’re looking at having my brother deemed incapable for the head position of Crown Industries?”
His devious smile is dark and ominous. “Yes. In essence, that’s the jist of it. Your parents felt you would be the best person to run Crown when and if your siblings were unable to control such a business. Wyatt’s mental illness leaves him dangerously ineffective for the position, and your sister, with her precarious legal proceedings, leaves her to be a publicity nightmare. You may not have a care for the racing circuits or the motor world in general, but you are the best man for the job.”
“And if I decline?”
“Clause seventy-three. Blue tab.” He points to the stack in the middle of the table. “Effectively, it could leave you and your siblings in a hostile takeover situation from the board.”
“Fuck!” Pushing my nails through my hair, I pace, dangerously close to a fist or two through a wall. I do everything in my power to calm down.
Not moving an inch, old man wheezer and the young woman say nothing, allowing me to deal alone with the realization that I’m about to fix or fuck our family even further than it already has been.