CHAPTER Thirteen
I wasn’t really sure why I was so exhausted other than the fact that I had just had both the most emotionally draining and weirdest week of my life.
“One more stop.” Nixon had been driving back toward the school but took a left before we came to the right road.
Boo. Was I never going to get a vote in the matter? Was it wrong to use my new Prada backpack as a pillow?
“The bank?” I said once we stopped.
“Yup.”
“Why?”
Nixon laughed. “Asks the girl who’s carrying around thousand dollar bills. I take it you don’t have an account?”
Embarrassed, I shook my head.
“Well, let’s go then.” He jumped out of the car. I had no choice but to follow him into the large glass building. It was only four stories, but every angle and plane of the building was pointed as if it was some sort of angry porcupine.
Intimidated, I tried to stay close to him.
I noticed that we only had one security guard with us.
“Nixon, where’d the rest of the suits go?”
He turned and grabbed my hand but didn’t answer my question.
Okay, the silent game. I could play.
We walked right past all the desks where people were answering phones and working and went into the elevator.
Expecting it to go up, I gasped when it shot down into the basement.
The basement. Really?
He grabbed my hand again as we walked across a long marble hallway. In front of us was a giant wood desk. A girl with long dark hair sat there filing her nails.
“Hey, Priscilla, where’s Anthony?” Nixon asked.
“Oh, you know, sharpening kn—” Her mouth shut as she stood and held out her hand. “I’m sorry, and you are?”
“Trace.” I shook her hand. “Trace Rooks.”
She nodded and then glanced down at my necklace. “Rooks you say?”
“Yup.”
“Doesn’t sound like—”
“Pris, we need to open an account.”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course you do. I’ll just let Anthony know you are here.”
Nixon shook his head. “No need, I’ll let myself in.”
“Enter at your own risk, Nixon.”
“Come on.” Nixon tugged my hand. We took a left and walked down a shorter hallway lined with creepy old person photos of men in suits holding guns. Great. And we’re in a basement.
Nixon pressed his thumb against the magnetic thingy and the glass door opened. “Anthony?”
“In here.”
The office was beautiful. I thought we were in a basement, but technically there were still really wide windows toward the desk that looked out onto a pond. Was that a plane?
“We need to open an account,” Nixon repeated.
“We?” Anthony turned around.
Holy hell he looked like an older version of Nixon. Was this his dad? No, he was still too young. I waited for the introductions.
“Technically, she needs to open an account. I would have gone to one of the other branches, but lucky girl has thousand dollar bills.”
Anthony’s eyes widened briefly before he turned to me. “What did you do, rob a bank?” He cracked a smile.
I grinned back. “I didn’t know they were big bills. My grandpa gave me some money before I was dropped off at school and there was a fiasco with my uniform and bags and…”
“Fiasco?” Anthony’s brows lifted. “This I have to hear.”
“Anthony—” Nixon was cut off by the guy waving his hand in the air.
“Make yourself useful, Nixon, and grab yourself a drink.”
Nixon muttered a curse and walked over to a bar in the corner.
“So, you were saying?” Anthony nodded his head.
My palms began to sweat. “I, uh… the people at school kind of drenched me in sugar water and raw eggs. My messenger bag suffered a very slow, sticky death.”
“The worst kind I’m sure.” Anthony smirked.
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “I guess technically it’s my fault, since I rejected that one’s rules on the first day.” I pointed at Nixon who narrowed his eyes. “But he did save me from social suicide. Not that I was already high on the popularity totem pole anyways… but yeah. Long story short, we went shopping, I busted out my money. Nixon almost had a stroke. Men in suits entered the grocery store with guns. Pretty sure I’m going to see that on the evening news, and… now we’re here.”
Anthony’s face remained impassive. “Alright. Sounds like a normal day in the life of Nixon. Welcome to the family…” He held out his hand.
“Oh, no, no, no, no.” I laughed nervously. “No, it’s not like… that.”
I waved both hands in the air like a crazy person.
Anthony’s head tilted to the side. “I’ve known Nixon for a long time, and I can tell you one thing for sure. It is very much… like that.”
I heard a groan from Nixon and something that sounded like a curse.
“Now, an account. Do you have your social security number?”
Embarrassed, I shook my head. “Grandpa said it was lost in the move.”
“The move?” Anthony repeated walking around his desk and hitting a few keys on his computer. “Where did you move from?”
“Chicago.”
Nixon spewed the contents of his drink onto the floor and began coughing. “Sorry, Uncle Tony.”
Ah, uncle, that made more sense.
Tony shook his head in annoyance but said nothing. “So, you’re from Chicago. Why did you move? Your parents come with you?”
I shifted uncomfortably on my feet. What did this have to do with me opening an account? Soon I felt Nixon’s hand grab mine. “My grandparents thought the city was too violent I guess? I don’t know. My parents were killed in an accident when I was six so…”
“An accident?” Anthony repeated. “My sincere apologies for your loss.”
I shrugged. “I don’t remember much.”
“Probably for the best,” Anthony said pointedly.
“Um, what does this have to do with opening a bank account? I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just really exhausted.”
“Shopping does that to you,” Nixon said.
Anthony laughed. “I’d say Nixon does that as well…”
“Very funny.” Nixon shook his head.
“Alright, Miss Rooks, was it?”
I nodded.
“I’ll work some magic and open your account without your social security number. I’ll add the address to the school you attend. Do you have a phone number where I can reach you?”
I gave him my number while he typed.
“And the cash?” He held out his hand.
Nixon reached into his back pocket and handed him the wad that I’d pulled out of the box this morning.
If Anthony was surprised he didn’t say anything. Instead he counted the cash, around ten grand which is what Nixon had guessed.
He put it through a little machine. I signed something and he gave me a temporary card. It was black just like Nixon’s.
“We good?” Nixon asked folding some of the paperwork and stuffing it into his pocket.
Anthony nodded. “For now.”
Huh? What was I missing?
“Alright.” Nixon grabbed my hand. “See you Sunday, Uncle Tony.”
“You too, Boss. Don’t forget the time, or your pops is gonna throw a fit.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nixon waved him off and we left.
The ride back to school only took a few minutes. I was quiet, mainly because I was confused and tired.
Once we pulled up to my dorm I unbuckled my seatbelt, but something was still bothering me about the whole situation.
“Why are people afraid of you?”
Nixon smiled. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
I gulped. “Sometimes.”
His eyes got sad as he reached across the console and grabbed my hand. “You know I would never let anyone hurt you, right?”
“See!” I didn’t mean to yell. “That’s what I’m talking about! A few days ago you were telling me I was basically the cockroach beneath your shoe! And now you’re taking me shopping? I’m sorry, it doesn’t add up.”
“Yeah well, life rarely does.” Nixon swore and then groaned. His face was tight as if he was in severe pain. “Look, I was just warning you, that’s all. And just because I’m being nice to you doesn’t change the fact that you have to follow the rules if you want to survive here.”
“Thanks. Got that memo loud and clear once I was drenched with sugar water and drugged.”
“Damn it, then why not just do what I say?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like being bossed around.”
“No shit.” He smirked. “But sometimes it’s for your own safety. Can’t you see that? Maybe the world isn’t as shiny and fun as you once thought. People are mean. Humanity is a cruel joke, Trace. I’m just trying to prevent them from getting the last laugh.”
I sighed. “So, why do they listen? Why do you get to make the rules?”
He froze. A mask slipped from his face and then it was just a boy and a girl in a car, talking. The air felt electric as he reached out and touched my cheek. “I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish I didn’t have to make rules… or enforce them.”
“Then don’t.” I reached out and placed my hand against his chest.
His eyes closed. “Sometimes we aren’t given choices. We just are.”
“What does that even mean?”
Nixon opened his eyes and slowly removed my hand from his chest. “It means that you should have listened to me on the first day of school.” His head tilted to the side. “Don’t touch the Elect. Don’t breathe the same air as the Elect, and don’t…” He cursed. “Just don’t.”
“Why?” My lower lip trembled.
“Because you are up to your eyeballs in shit, and you don’t even know it. And once you know… what everything’s about… the choice will be taken from you too. Hell, what am I saying? The choice was gone the minute your gramps dropped you off.”
“Choice?” I rolled my eyes. “You’re pretty serious and cryptic to boot, you know that right? What are you? Some kind of famous celebrity? A politician’s son? The President’s dirty little secret?”
At that he cracked a smile.
“…Hmm, that dirty little secret thing sure rings a bell. Don’t worry your pretty little head over anything, alright? Go do your homework and relax.”
Apparently I wasn’t going to get any answers. I grabbed my new bag and my purse and hopped out of the car. “Thanks for… everything.”
Nixon’s full lips curved into a smile. “My pleasure. Now go get some work done. I’ll send Chase over in a few.”
“Chase? Why?” I put my hand on my hip. Was I still under babysitting protection?
Nixon shrugged. “So no one bothers you, why else?”
“Why don’t you check on me yourself? Why send a minion?”
He barked with laughter. “A minion, huh?” He bit his lip, making the ring tilt to the side. Damn, I hated how sexy he was without even trying. “If I came and checked on you, I’d definitely be bothering you.”
“Annoying the hell out of me is more like it,” I shot back.
“Bye, Farm Girl.”
And there it was, the perfect ending to the weirdest day of my life.
“Thanks for that.” I flipped him off.
His response was to moo. Classic.