Axton

I keep drumming my fingers nervously on the kitchen table. Ever since coming here, I feel on edge as if I have to tiptoe around everything, and any step I take might be the wrong one. Bri took a chance on me by accepting our parents' wishes about my move to New York. God knows how I got accepted into Columbia. In all likelihood, my sister had to pull some strings to achieve it.

I live in the apartment right below hers so she can "help me with anything I might need". Truly, it is to make it easier for her to keep an eye on me, I am sure; the exact same reason she somehow managed to put me in her class. Nevertheless, she has no idea what I do most nights.

I wrap my hands around my coffee and contemplate calling my friends. I don't have many, New York is too much of a big city and people don't seem to care much about getting to know each other. My only friends here remind me of the ones I left home—I always seem to fit in with the rebel without a cause crowd. For all I know, that was what got me into trouble in the first place.

It's ten at night and I am flicking through the TV channels bored out of my mind. I didn't feel like going to class today so I stayed at home reading. Now, I regret not having left the house for the whole day. I need to get out of here.

"Man, what are you doing today?" I ask Zane as soon as he picks up.

"We are all going to Zachary's tonight."

I think about it. Zachary's is a posh speakeasy where all the rich troublemakers go to, young or old. What the hell. "What time should I meet you there?"

"Around midnight. We're all going: Wilder, Killian, Nicolas and he is bringing some entertainment as well," he utters devilishly.

Argh, normally the girls they hang out with are exceptionally uninteresting. Do I even care? "Yeah, sure. I'll be there," I say and hang up the phone. Two hours to kill.

As I am about to enter the shower, I recognize a voice coming from the living room. In one of my fits of rage towards the telly, I turned it off and turned the radio on instead. I didn't know what station to put, so I just left it on the college one. When the voice gets clear I finally hear her. Elizabeth is on the radio now, talking about some book recommendation and the perfect playlist to listen to while immerse in reading. This girl has talent, I'll give her that.

When I entered Bri's classroom yesterday I was anything but excited for it. First, I had taken this class in London already, and second, I couldn't see a single person that I could see myself engaging in intelligent conversation with. Briar is extremely bright and her classes are incredible, and yet here, she seems a bit stiff and not quite herself. The stepsister that I know and grew up with is funny, too smart for her own good, sarcastic to a fault and a bit overprotective.

I was sitting by myself when this girl sat by my side. I looked at her and her flowered dress, fishnet stockings and wild curly hair. Huh. She smiled at me the flirty way many girls do, and Bri said abruptly: "Miss Johnson, will you please sit next to Mr. Atkins? I believe you will make a wonderful pair for the project." The girl next to me stood up and moved next to a guy with hair just as wild as hers. Maybe Bri wants me to do this project all by myself after all.

I was deep in thought, writing and scribbling on my notebook when I heard my sister say my name—well, say "Mr. Brooks". As I looked over, she was instructing this girl to sit next to me. She was this petite girl with a big presence, and she walked like she owned the place with her high-heel boots, her platinum hair, and eyes that could brighten the darkest of rooms. The moment she smiled back at me, I decided I would be nice to this girl—as nice as I can be at least.

In hindsight, after talking to her, it hit me why my sister might have wanted to pair us up together. Maybe that was her plan all along. Elizabeth, as I learned her name is, is very smart, strong-minded, opinionated and determined. Of course, it didn't hurt the girl was extremely easy on the eyes.

Afterward, at the cafe, we talked some more and decided on the course of action for our project. She asked too many personal questions, that is for sure, but I ended up answering some since her deep blue eyes kept distracting me from being too disconnected.

Now, here I am still thinking about the girl from yesterday. I shake it off and get ready while still listening to her faint voice on the radio.

__________

I enter Zachary's and absorb everything around me. This place has too much velvet in the décor, for sure. The establishment has a pretentious vibe a bit like my friends that walk around all the time like they are "too good for this shit".

I look around for my party, but they are nowhere in sight. I've just sat on a dark red velvet sofa, when a waitress dressed in a little black dress and wearing dark red lipstick, appears with an Old Fashioned and a note that says "Meet us at the VIP room asshole." in beautiful cursive. Classy. I roll my eyes. Pompous bastards. The waitress winks at me and leaves me be.

Don't get me wrong, my family is far from being poor, they are in fact quite affluent in England, with great connections all over the place; we just didn't make showing it off or shoving it into people's faces a habit.

When I enter the VIP room, I am greeted by Sabrina. Brilliant, she is here. The one-night stand that followed me all the way from England—just what I was hoping for. Now, not only she hits on me, but also on my friends; as if it doesn't matter which of us she bags, as long as she does bag one of us. Nicolas is all over her, drooling and groping and I almost barf. A voluptuous blonde girl is sitting on Killian's lap and feeding him—what century are we in anyway?—while he rests his hand on her ass. Zane is snogging a red-haired woman and Wilder is drinking himself to oblivion on the far end corner, seemingly uninterested in the dancing drunken ladies putting up a show in the middle of the room.

I take a seat where I judge to be the furthest and safest from the women and bring a cigarette to my lips.

"That stuff can kill you, you know," Nicky says, pointing at the burning Marlboro in my mouth.

"Well,"—I point at Brina straddling his lap—"so can she if you don't wear a condom."

"Touché." Nick laughs amused and Sabrina shrieks in protest.

"You are such an asshole, Axton!" She lifts up, grabs my cigarette, and crushes it with her hooker high heels.

Unfazed, I grab another from the box. "You didn't think so when you wanted me to fuck your brains out." I light up and raise it to my mouth once again.

"Ugh! You are a pig!" She seems she is about to slap me straight on the face.

"Been called worse." I am tired of hearing her talk. I turn to the boys. "What are we doing tonight again?" I ask to one in particular.

"Well, we have been meaning to talk to you, Axton," Killian says.

My eyes are suspicious when I turn to face him. "Eh?"

He orders the girls to leave and continues once they are gone. "As you are well aware, we are very good friends to have, Ax. We all come from important families and are part of this"—he stops and brings his hand to his mouth touching his lips as if pondering whether he should continue or not—"elite group."

I know where this is going. I had heard rumors going around but didn't quite believe them until now.

"You have been hanging around us for some time, have taken advantage of some privileges, and we have been observing you. We feel you would benefit from being a member of The Golden Circle. You would have brothers, sisters, and connections for life, just like your father did."

My eyes widen and Killy looks satisfied. "Well well... have I caught you by surprise? Is it a revelation your father was a Golden?"

I raise my hand up urging him to shut up so I can think. When my father died, I was very little and didn't know him sufficiently. All throughout my life, my mum didn't really fill in the gaps as much as I would have wanted. I knew he was important, but never how much, or the full extent of what he did, so it might as well be true. Fucking hell.

I kill my drink at once and it burns. "Ok, go on. I am listening."

"Glad to have your undivided attention, mate. As I was saying, your father was a Golden. We are everywhere, including in the UK. When you decided to transfer to Columbia, your name popped up on our radar. You are a legacy like we all are. My father knew yours and even did business with him. Goldens work that way, supporting each other. You don't know of us because it was your father's job to prepare you, but unfortunately, he wasn't here for it. In any case, I am here now, formally inviting you to join."

I take a deep breath. That is a lot to take in. "And if I do?"

He seems pleased with my semi-interested answer. "If you do, you will go through initiation."

I raise one eyebrow at that statement and Wilder rises from the shadows. Nice to see he hasn't died of alcohol poisoning yet. "Really Ax, it is just a formality, you have been pre-approved already. It is just secret society bureaucracy and all that." He stumbles and places one hand on my shoulder, patting it twice in comradery. It doesn't look like he takes this matter too seriously. "Should you choose to do so, inform us as soon as possible."

My eyes widen. "Can I think about this?"

"Of course. You have 24 hours," Killian says.

Killy then whistles to urge the girls to come back. They go through me as I am leaving. I take a good look at them and their submission to random men. Don't they have mothers? What am I thinking, of course, they do. What they don't have are standards.