Though I’d rather distract myself with Colt and the newness of our relationship, my new self-appointed assignment is gathering everything I can find on McAllister. I desperately need to feel in control of something again. My entire life is spiraling out of my grasp.
I stumble onto something of interest in McAllister’s personal banking records that I’ve hacked into. He made a very large cash transfer the day before the oil tanker crash. He invested one hundred thousand dollars into a stock called IBX.
I type it into Google. It’s a company that manufactures industrial cleaning solutions. They have a patented formula that attracts and disintegrates oil, and with a few more clicks, I learn that IBX was awarded the business for cleaning up the oil spill the Alliance caused. Holy shit!
Since IBX was awarded the business, their stock has shot up several hundred percent. I do some more digging and see that in a matter of weeks, McAllister has made two million dollars from his new stock purchase. And the cleanup efforts are expected to last for six months. My stomach clenches. By causing that oil spill, he’ll make millions.
I feel sick.
I head to Colt’s room, a plan spinning in my head as I make my way down the hall.
He opens the door and pulls me inside the room, happy to see me, as usual. “What’s wrong?” he asks, sensing the tension in my embrace.
“I know why McAllister did it, and it’s even worse than I thought.”
He frowns. “Come sit down.”
I am seething, but follow him to his bed and sit down beside him. Why does he look so nervous?
“He’s heavily invested in company that’s in charge of the cleanup, and after I caused the spill, his stock shot through the roof.”
His mouth gapes open.
“He’s already made two million on his initial investment.”
Colt looks down, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Colt, say something.”
“What do you want me to say, Taylor?”
“That we’re going to stop him. He doesn’t deserve that money.”
He scoffs. “And what, you do? Because you were the one behind the controls?”
I flinch as though physically struck by his words. “Of course not. The money should go to the cleanup efforts. And he shouldn’t be in charge here, he should be in jail. This isn’t about me, Colt. What he’s doing is wrong.”
“He’s not just going to give up that money because you tell him to, Taylor. Grow up. And without him here, what would happen to this place? Think about it. We can’t turn him into the police – if we do that, you’ll be implicated too.”
He’s right, but why is his tone so crushing right now? I knew Colt didn’t want me meddling around in McAllister’s business, but why is he being so argumentative?
“What’s with you right now?” I challenge.
Colt takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. His eyes are pure agony, an aching inside him I can practically see. “McAllister is my father.”
What? Holy hell! I study him, waiting for him to say something else, to explain this. How could I not have known? “But your last name…”
“Was McAllister,” he says. “I changed it to my mother’s maiden name before I came to Wilbrook.”
We watch each other in silence for a few minutes, the tension igniting the air around us. I pull back from him, moving further away on the bed as a wall erects itself between us. He is related to the man I hate. A voice in the back of my mind taunts me, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as I remember Colt’s despicable behavior when I first met him.
“No matter what I think about him, I can’t force him out. He’s my father.” Colt’s voice is softer, more in control, but just as certain as before.
“Well then this conversation’s over.” I turn, and walk away, Colt’s silence ripping a hole through me as I go.
I keep my game face on as best as I can during the next week of classes, but any chance I get, I crawl into my bed. And after an entire day spent pretending – pretending that everything is fine, I finally let go and let the tears come.
The crush of heartbreak is all consuming. Between Colt’s rejection and the oil tanker assignment gone wrong – I am nothing but a shell.
I know I can’t stay here. Not now. Having to face McAllister and Colt – father and son –who run this place is way more than I’m capable of handling.
Even though I’d seen glimmers of hope – Colt hadn’t changed. Why hadn’t he ever told me McAllister was his dad? I’d been inside their house for heaven’s sake. Then again, he never told me about his brother either – and I don’t think it’s because he was hiding something.
Colt and I haven’t spoken a word. We don’t even make eye contact when we pass in the halls. I’ve skipped his class every day since we broke up. I can’t bear to see him in the martial arts studio where we used to train together during his private lessons.
I distract myself with online forums with nameless, faceless hacker friends that feel far safer than real relationships.
MJ and Logan follow me around like little shadows. I still haven’t told them anything – about the ship – or about Colt – instead letting them draw their own conclusions. And of course the conclusion around school is that Colt finally slept with me and moved on. The truth is far more painful.
Bria relished in taunting me in Zumba, remarking that now I know how it feels. She’s right. The highs and lows of Colt’s attention were all consuming. For once I felt sorry for all the girls before me. They’d played with fire and though it burned hot at the time, the after effects were scarring.
MJ finds me in bed at the end of the day. My little cocoon. I haven’t been able to speak about anything with her, knowing that I’d break down, but suspecting that I’m ready, MJ pushes me to talk. I lie in bed, gripping my body pillow for dear life as I open up to her. MJ sits beside me, patting my back as silent tears stream down my cheeks. I tell her all about McAllister, then all about Colt. She didn’t know they were related either. But I can practically see the, I told you so non-verbals rolling off of her.
“We’ll get you drunk and stupid so you won’t have to think about all this.”
I wipe my eyes, sitting up. Getting so drunk I can’t think sounds perfect.
“It’ll be your going away party.”
She assumes I’m leaving just like Jewel did. It would probably be the smart thing to do, but the truth is, I haven’t decided.
MJ makes a few calls, lining up a ride for us from one of her many off-campus guy friends she spends time with on the weekends.
“Cool. They’ll be here at ten to get us.”
“Okay.” I blow my nose, appreciative of MJs much needed distraction.
“Come on. We need to go to your computer lab.”
“For what?” I ask.
“We have to be eighteen to get into the club tonight, so you’re going to make us fake IDs.”
I roll my eyes. MJ has vastly over estimated my abilities, as usual.