Page 12 of Cruel Riches

Colette stared at me for a moment, and then she burst out laughing. I laughed along with her, knowing she’d never believe what I just said.

“That was a good one,” she said, waving a spatula at me. “It’s not as good as some of the stories you used to tell me as a boy, though. I remember when you were seven, you told me and Emilie that it was ghosts throwing your toys and clothes all over your room in the middle of the night. You looked so earnest that we actually believed you for a while.”

I smiled half-heartedly at the bittersweet memory. Emilie was Colette’s daughter. She used to babysit for me when I was a kid, and she was just as nice and caring as her mother, but she was dead now. Just like my father.

This house really was filled with ghosts. Not the make-believe poltergeist kind, but the cold, lingering memories of the people who once happily walked these halls, only to die long before their time.

“I miss her too,” Colette said softly, reading my expression perfectly. She straightened her shoulders. “Anyway, you should go and finish packing. These cookies need to cool for a few minutes.”

“Mmm, what’s that wonderful smell?” My mom’s formidable voice cut through the air as she entered the kitchen and deposited her handbag and a stack of papers on the counter. “It made me hungry as soon as I stepped through the door.”

“I made some cookies for Nate and his college friends,” Colette replied.

“Oh, that’s right, you’re going back today. Are you ready?” Mom asked, looking at me with raised brows.

I nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. I just need to grab a few things from upstairs, and then I’ll head out.”

“Just when I was starting to get used to having you around again,” she said with a sigh.

“I think you should stay here with us,” Colette interjected. “Blackthorne is so close, and it’s only compulsory for first-year students to live on campus, isn’t it?”

“It’s easier for me to live there. I can just roll right out of bed and go to class. Plus there’s all the frat stuff. You have to live at the house to be a member.”

Colette turned back to the counter, mumbling something about ‘silly American traditions’ as she opened a cupboard to retrieve a large plastic container.

“Oh, speaking of your fraternity, you’ll need this,” Mom said, reaching into her pantsuit pocket. She pulled out a silver signet ring with a sculpted skull on its face. “I found it on the floor on my way in. You must’ve dropped it earlier.”

“Thanks.” I took the ring and slipped it on.

Colette turned around again, and her nose wrinkled as she looked at my hand. “I know your group is called the Skulls, but that ring always makes me shiver. It’s so ugly.”

Mom let out a light laugh. “It’s a bit creepy, isn’t it?” she said. “But the Skulls is the oldest and best fraternity at Blackthorne, Colette. None of that hazing nonsense goes on there, either, like it does with some of those awful mainland ones. It’s just well-bred young men supporting each other and making connections for their futures.”

I was tempted to laugh at her last two comments. The parents of Blackthorne students loved to convince themselves of bullshit like that so they could feel smug and superior, but the Skulls was basically the same as any other fraternity, with all the wild parties and crazy shit that went on.

The only real difference was that membership was restricted to guys from elite families with a certain net worth, just like the Roses, which was the top sorority on campus. If you didn’t have at least a quarter of a billion dollars in a trust fund and an old family name, you probably weren’t going to make it in to either group.

There were those on campus who resented the exclusive organizations, considering them to be relics of the past that reeked of elitism, snobbery, and unfairness, but it wasn’t as shitty as it sounded, and we weren’t complete assholes. There were a lot of other fraternities and sororities on campus for students who couldn’t get into the Skulls or Roses, and we got along with them and shared events and parties. There were also large residence halls for Blackthorne students who wanted to live by themselves, and they were usually welcome at our events too, unless it was something special.

“I better grab my stuff and go,” I said, picking up my sunglasses.

“Don’t forget the cookies on your way out,” Colette said, coming over to give me a hug.

I chuckled. “How could I?”

Mom reached over to give me a brief hug too. “Don’t party too hard.”

Ten minutes later, the car was packed with anything I didn’t already have at the frat house, and I took off down the road toward Blackthorne.

The Skulls house was a slate-gray Victorian with four stories, wide wrap-around porches with ornate white trim, and several large turrets. When I went inside, the ground floor was almost filled to max occupancy. A bunch of my frat brothers were chilling in the front living room, sucking on vape pens, and groups of girls and guys were hanging around the rest of the place, chatting, drinking, and playing games.

“Small thing with just a few people, huh?” I said, slapping Jasper on the back to get his attention.

He turned to look at me. “I accidentally invited a few more than I originally planned to,” he said with a grin. “By the way, someone’s up in your room.”

“Who?”

He cocked a brow. “You’ll see.”

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