Page 88 of SNOB

They share a laugh. My fists tighten.

They’re both here cackling together and getting ahead while I’m about to get blackmailed out of my future.

Following their sounds, my Oxfords lead me to the sitting room with the bar before my eyes land on them in Mac’s backyard. Mac signs a paper on an iron table like they’re making a deal.

And now? Now there’s no stopping me.

I’m outside before I know it, both their heads whipping in my direction.

Mac looks like the business fucker he is, dressed in a white collared shirt and slacks. While my mother, Cara, looks like the careless, self-centred human she walks around as, her long orange dress matching her hair.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” My eyes glare at the paper on the table, Mac’s signature scribbled in ink.

“Ember,” Cara sighs. “I didn’t know you were joining us today.” She swings a look at Mac like he’s responsible.

“Hey mom. There’s a whole lot of stuff I didn’t know. Like you and Mac working together?”

He doesn’t say a word. He just glares at me, those iron eyes boring into my head. His knuckles turn white gripping the iron chair but I know he’s nowhere as mad as I am.

“He’s a brilliant hockey player,” Cara says. “Of course, we’re working together."

“Who let you in here?” It’s the first thing Mac says to me.

My focus shifts to him. “Was this the plan all along? To get close to her?” Once I start, there’s no stopping me. “And how the fuck did Hannah get that phone? And the video? Mac, you’ve been…” It hits me and so does that burn in my eye, a sting in my nose. A heaviness fills my chest when I say the words I knew have always been coming. “You played me.”

“Malcolm?”

Another familiar voice comes from behind me.

“Sterling,” Cara greets. “How nice to see you again.”

Mac’s father steps out in a suit matching his son’s. He straightens his black tie, looking between the three of us. “What’s going on?” His eyes lock on me, his thick brows lowering. “And why do I keep seeing you?”

Cara laughs, “I’ve been asking the same thing. She’s my daughter if you can believe it.” Her cringe sends a punch to my gut. “Meet Ember Everett.” She waves me off before gesturing to the paper on the table. “What's more important is I just signed your son to a tentative contract in Montreal. But he has to get his physical together or I’ll be in trouble.”

“Come again?” Sterling’s eyes narrow further, his attention turning to Mac. But I’m thinking the same thing.

“Were you just using me to get close to my mother?” I ask, my voice as shaky as my legs. “For hockey?”

“You have to go,” Mac says. “Now.”

That night flashes back to me, his eyes wide as he tells me to run.

But this time, I’m not going anywhere.

Sterling follows Mac’s gaze to me. He steps forward, his shiny pointy dress shoes approaching me. “Everett … Everett…” His mouth twists like he’s thinking about it. “I know that name, don’t I?” Then it hits him, an anvil dropping on his head. “Everett.” He smirks, taking another step.

“Father…” Mac calls.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Sterling ignores his son. “You’re going to leave this home. You’re going to leave this town.” He grabs my sketchpad from my grip, flipping through it. He lands on a page with a drawing as he reaches into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a silver lighter. “You will regret it if you don’t.” He throws my sketchpad on the ground, opened to a drawing of Mac, those iron eyes the focus. Then he flicks his lighter open, my eyes moving to the flame.

“Wait,” I call, reaching for the sketchpad, but it’s too late. He throws the lighter on it. I reach for it but Sterling’s hand comes to my chest, holding me back. He’s as strong as Mac. All I can do is watch. My work, old and new including everything Mac asked me to do burns. Then Mac’s father kicks it away as Cara titters behind him.

He moves closer to me. “Beau? That’s your fault, isn’t it?”

“No!” I respond.

“My son’s failed body is also your fault.”

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