Chapter 1 - The beginning
Dean.
Why does it feel like I’m being watched? Usually I wouldn’t care who checked me out, but today I stand naked in my bedroom. Who wouldn’t want a piece of six foot three inches of pure muscle? Still, I can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m facing the ocean. My tenth floor apartment is way too high for anyone on the beach to get a clear view of me. I draw the curtains closed anyway. I’m not a person that’s easily creeped out yet goosebumps dot my entire body. With the curtains shut, I relax a little. I prefer spending the morning naked. I wouldn’t mind a hot girl checking me out – but being creeped out takes things to a whole new level.
I’m about to doze off when my phone pings signaling someone has mentioned me somewhere on the internet. I’m tempted to ignore the alert but a series of pings follow. Who could possibly be mentioning me multiple times? I mean I know I have a history but I’ve worked hard since the infamous accident to rebuild my life and move on. I haven’t done anything else since the accident to draw any attention to myself so why the sudden online frenzy? I reach for my phone, dreading what I’m about to see. What if someone remembered the accident after all these years? Damn! Everything I’ve worked so hard for won’t matter. Only the accident and Dana’s death will matter.
It’s a little unfair.
I punch in the code on my phone and tap on the first alert notification which takes me to a blog.
California's Top Ten Spoiled Rich Brats.
I’m on top of that list. One Lace Higgins has compiled a list of “brats”. Does she think I’m two years old? Lord! I wish I could find this Lace right now and make her remove her offensive article. I check the comments and notice that more than a thousand comments have already been made within an hour of publication. The blog has probably been shared thousands of times, and I bet there are already copies of it elsewhere on the internet and the deep web. After all, everybody loves a scandal right?
All traces of sleep vanish. I wish I could take sleeping pills but I swore never to abuse prescription medication, take drugs, or drink alcohol since the night of the accident. I’ve been sober for eighteen months, and don’t plan on losing my sobriety chip.
Flashbacks to the night of the accident haunt me for a few minutes. I spent months in therapy just to be able to make it through the day because every time I thought of the accident I broke out in a cold sweat before collapsing. My mother had gone to great lengths to ensure that nobody spoke of the accident again but my parent’s money could not buy the silence of the world wide web.
I turn my phone on silent when it starts ringing. I don’t even care who’s calling. All I know is that I never want to speak of the accident again. The only choice I have is to do the one thing that’s kept me sane all these years. I need to get my ass to my business classes. It’s the one thing I can count on to help me forget all about the accident.
It’s also the one place where I can meet the only person I trust in this world, my best friend, Jason. I tried calling him but I guess he is still a little busy or sleeping because he didn’t pick up.
***
Lace.
What have I done? “No. No. No.” My voice echoes in the silence of my apartment. I should not have listened to Alison, my best friend, and published such a tabloid like piece on my blog. I normally prefer neutral pieces which get the odd comment or two. I check my phone. My blog has over ten thousand comments. Well, even if ten thousand people know Dean St James, I, Lace Higgins have never heard of him. I send a silent prayer to my guardian angels and ask them to keep Dean from reading my blog. I don’t want him to even know my blog exists. What if he confronts me about it, or worse, slap me with a lawsuit? How will I, a temporary teacher substitute, manage to pay him back. I glance at some of the comments. Apparently, Dean is heir to a billion-dollar fortune. Hmm. I bet young women throughout the country are fawning over him. I turn my phone off when it pings continuously. The sound is stuck in my head.
I glance at the clock on my living room wall. It’s almost seven a.m. I need to be at school by seven thirty a.m. Drat. I throw on a blouse that doesn’t need ironing, and a pair of pull on pants. Thankfully, I manage to get dressed at 7:15. The school I’m temping at is just a five-minute walk away from my apartment. I switch my phone on and mute all notifications. I really don’t want to know how well my blog is doing. Alison suggested I write something sensational to grow my followers before I self-publish my young adult paranormal romance in the next two months. Her suggestion seems to be working. So far, my followers have jumped from two hundred to around twelve thousand. That’s more than enough to get the word out when I do garner up the courage to self-publish ‘Beast Next Door’, the book I’m hoping will launch my career as a young adult bestseller. More followers meant more people would see my book promotions – if and when I published my book.
I must have zoned out while walking to work because before I know it, I’m outside the school. Screaming kids and honking cars pull me out of my thoughts and into reality. For now, my blog, Dean St James, and my future best-selling book don’t exist.