Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (2 page)

“We’ve built our reputation on discretion. They are all screened and paid very well
not
to have seen you. It’s why parents all over the world choose us to help their kids. I wish you could have taken part in some of the group sessions. I know you would have liked them.”

“Yeah. Too bad.” Hunter nodded as though he totally agreed. There was no point in hurting Barry’s feelings at this late date. Barry’s
cry-and-hug
sessions were not on Hunter’s wish list. “Maybe next time,” he added, shooting Barry a wry glance.

Barry gave him a look. “Let’s hope not. I’m going to miss you, Hunter. I really am. But I never want to see you again—if you know what I mean.”

Hunter smiled. “Yeah. Back at you, dude. And thanks for curing me.”

Barry gave him a small bro-hug that Hunter returned. “I’ve never said you were
cured
. Depression does not have an
on-off
switch. Don’t make me lecture you all over again here, because I will.”

“Work in progress. I know the speech.” Hunter pushed a hand through the mop of hair that hit his forehead now that it hadn’t been cut for so long. “Are you billing me for this extra therapy hour?”

“Of course I’m billing you. Double, for after-hour charges if you’re keeping track.”

“I like that you never pretend things aren’t about the money.” Hunter yawned.

Barry frowned, placing a gentle hand on Hunter’s arm. “I get paid well because I’m good at what I do. Just like you get paid well to sing and play the guitar. Not everyone wants to use you, son. You need to change your views on that.”

Hunter shrugged. “If I come across real evidence of your theory, I’ll reconsider my ideas. But from where I sit, it’s the view I’ve been tracking forever.”

“That view is what your mom is trying to change by sending you to Colorado. Your reality is skewed. You need to get it back on track. This time is going to give you the chance to analyze your real feelings. Try to make honest friends. The kind with no strings attached.”

“Please. An impossible idea.” Hunter kicked his shoe against the steps. “Back on track my ass! She wants me locked down. You should satellite-map the town of
Monument
. It’s in the middle of a bunch of trees. I bet everyone who lives there has a blade of grass stuck in their teeth. And it’s probably the kind of grass you can’t even smoke!”

Hunter paced the length of the portico. Barry followed.

“Living off the Hollywood grid is the only way you’ll be able to figure out what being normal feels like. You’ve never known anything different.”

“Forget normal! Everything could be over when I get back.
Hell.
No one seems to care about what I want. How could I ever be normal after the life I’ve lived? The life I
plan to keep living
as soon as I get Mom to stop being pissed off at me.”

“From what I can tell, you weren’t living much of any life. Just working.”

“I love to work. So what? It’s my solace.” Hunter shook his head. “And besides, I haven’t been to my Aunt Nan’s since I was eight. I think she must be like...
seventy
now? Does she even remember me
—
want me in her house?”

Barry nodded. “Seventy-two. She’s excited to have you for the school year. Your mom told me.”

“You’ve talked to her about this?” Hunter whispered as he felt his throat closing up. “When and
why
does she talk to you, but never to me?”

“She told me it’s too soon. She’s not ready.”

“And you
bought
that?” Hunter exploded. “You think Mom’s silent treatment is about the dumbass prank I pulled at home six weeks ago?”

“I thought we’d stopped referring to it as a
prank
.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hunter glowered, changing the subject. “That woman hasn’t spoken to me about anything real since my bottom-feeder step-dad ran to Florida two years ago with the intern—
or personal assistant
. Whatever she was.”

“You mentioned that. I know it causes you pain.”

“Well, not how you think.” Hunter blinked. “Mom got really pissed when she discovered the intern had also been
personally assisting
me in every way.” Hunter smiled at the look on Barry’s face.

“No.”

“Yep.” Hunter nodded. “Like twice a week in our hot tub and all over the house. Mom stopped talking to me when I told her I missed the girl more than I missed having that guy around pretending to be my dad. Because I still miss her—or what she could do with her mouth, anyhow.”

“Holy shit.” Barry, who hardly ever looked shocked or surprised, now looked shocked and surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me about all this?”

Hunter shrugged. “I thought I’d keep my first girl to myself. I told you about the masses of girls
after
. How will one more twisted story about my sex life make my ‘mental-health-file’ any better? At least you get now that I can never be normal. Never make normal friends.”

“Yes, you can.” Barry threw his arms wide. “That girl should be in prison. The stuff was done to you, Hunter. Done
to
you. You were a kid two years ago. Hell, you’re still just seventeen.”

Hunter shrugged again and met Barry’s gaze. “I was old enough to willingly participate. Not gonna lie. I loved it. Thought I loved her,” he scoffed. “She was only seventeen herself. Wicked-step-daddy was smart enough to wait until she became legal before taking off with her. Totally bummed me out when she left like that, though. I had no idea....”

“Wow. I’m so sorry you went through that.”

Hunter grimaced. “She tried to keep things going with me. I turned her down. Back then I hated sharing my toys.”

“And so you share now?” Barry asked, ramping back to his calm-doctor voice, but the guy couldn’t hide his bugged-out eyes or horrified expression.

“No. I still hate sharing. I’ve simply stopped playing with dangerous toys. Mom paid them both tons to never contact me again. The assistant dumped the loser the day after the check cleared. Take some notes if you need to,” Hunter offered.

Barry shook his head. “You and your mom have been through so much. I know she’s also seeing her own therapist. She’ll speak to you when she gets herself straightened out, but probably not before.”

“Whatever.” Hunter glared at the limo, still holding at gate two. “If I’m forced to go to Colorado today, I’m done with her. And I’m not going to be sitting by the phone waiting for
Mommy
to call. I learned long ago not to believe that woman’s promises. My agent swears he’s going to get me out of the judge’s contract in a few weeks.”

“Luckily, your mom made sure the agreement is rock solid: Report to Colorado after we release you, or report to the nearest juvenile detention center. It’s for the whole school year whether your agent likes it or not.”

Hunter crossed his arms. “Martin is a strong force to be reckoned with. He’ll win for me. You’ll see.”

“Son, you need to rest. It’s critical.” Barry trapped his gaze. “I’d think twice about Martin’s intentions. Can’t you see he’s obviously in it for the money?”

Hunter sighed. “I know.” He flicked a glare at the limo. “But at least he keeps his promises. He’ll come through. And like I said, isn’t everyone in it for the money?” Hunter fronted, hiding his true panic about the situation. If Martin couldn’t convince his mom to change her mind soon, Hunter was stuck.

Stuck in Colorado.

His own mom had slapped huge vandalism charges on him. Between his totaled car, and the damage Hunter had done to the house, he’d wrecked about a million dollars worth of stuff.

$240K came from his pimped out Porsche 911 alone.

But it had been his Porsche!

His house! His front door, his silk carpets, his stupid antique, Italian fountain. All paid for with money he’d earned! All things he'd offered to replace.

Sadly, none of that had mattered to the judge. Every item Hunter had trashed was in his mom’s name. They’d screwed him to the wall with that one fact. The judge had also bought his mom’s sob story that her son might ‘
recover better’
while on a forced rest out of the public eye. And in another state!

Barry let out a long breath as they watched the third gate admit the limo into the inner driveway. “Well I’m happy you have no choice. For
your sake
, Hunter. Not for the money.”

Hunter didn’t respond. They both knew Barry had been paid $865 an hour to hang out with him all this time.

Her limo finally parked. It reminded Hunter of a wheeled, shiny, black casket.

For my funeral.

“You going to be okay?” Barry asked, as though he sensed Hunter’s heart couldn’t decide if it should slow down or stop beating all together.

“Wish I knew.”

Barry broke eye contact with Hunter and ran his hand through his sparse salt and pepper hair. His expression slipped to nervous. Hunter couldn’t blame the guy. His mom terrified the shit out of everyone.

“Take it one day at a time, son. One hour.” Barry was babbling now, “Call me if you need to talk. You need time. Time.”

“Yeah. Time to get my own set of lawyers.”

2: stupid dumb crush

VERE

“Seriously? This form makes me feel like a drug addict.” Vere Roth scrawled her full name across the signature line at the bottom of the
Palmer Divide High—Zero Tolerance—Drug and Alcohol Contract
. “I took headache medicine at my locker before coming in here. According to number seven, I think I should report myself to the police. Or...is it the principal?”

Vere glanced at her best friend, Jenna, before frowning back at the form, “Actually, now that I’ve told YOU about this ‘drug ingestion’
you
must report it or face your own suspension!”

“If only I could be so lucky.” Jenna fluttered her lashes behind her black framed, hipster glasses. Glasses that had clear lenses and no prescription whatsoever, but were very cute.

Vere added a date, put the form aside and picked up the next one. “Year Book Order Form. Yay! We will finally get to have the bigger pictures! And we’ll get to be near the front of the book. I can’t wait for that! We. Are. Big-time. So awesome!”

“Big-time, yes. Insignificant, still. And why are you
reading
the stupid registration forms? Just fill them out and sign.”

Jenna was going through her pile of forms by bending the stack, scribbling her name on the bottom lines, and dating each without looking.

“Jenna, you’re missing half of the form information lines.
Hello?
It’s only Spirit Week and you are already failing.”

“I have a plan connected to this.” Jenna flipped her blonde braids behind her back and adjusted the Peter Pan collar on her back-to-school, red-checked, button down shirt. “I’m going to turn these forms in all jacked-up to see how long it takes someone to call me down to the office.”

“What? Why?”

Jenna beamed, her green eyes glittering with mischief. “Maybe I’ll get pulled out of some lame quiz next month. Maybe for a couple of days! And,
FYI,
there are no grades this week, you brown nosing, teacher-pleasing-missile.”

“I’d laugh at that comment if it weren’t so hot in this room. I need every drop of extra credit I can get. If only perfect forms could count for AP Biology.” Vere groaned and flexed her fingers before signing the last one in her stack using Jenna’s method. It was something about sports and after-school activities. A new head-injury safety plan for all students in sports, clubs or student council.

She and Jenna did Drama Club. Not so they could be in the spotlight or anything insane like that.

They did stage tech.

Sets, costumes, lights, sound, special effects and props—all while wearing the ‘invisible’ black outfits that came with the job. Lighting was her favorite.

Vere’s phone buzzed against the table.

“Who dares text you besides me?” Jenna wiggled her brows. “I mean,
who e-ffing
dares text you?”

“My mom.” Vere flashed the screen to Jenna so she could read: VERE—VERE ARE YOU THERE?

Jenna laughed. “And you can’t
eff-ing
ground your mom for texting you at school?”

Vere grimaced. “Jenna. I hate your new ‘geek-street’ persona. You sound and look—” Vere paused, glancing at Jenna’s outfit with an affectionate grin. “—like a Hello Kitty hipster, crossed with some trash-mouthed prairie-girl.”

Jenna grinned. “I know. I’m
ahhmazing
cute, huh? And yet I still hang out with a girl who’s sporting her dad’s jeans cut down to shorts from nineteen-eighty seven. AGAIN. Matched with her big brother’s monstrous, grubby hoodie. AGAIN. Plus the same brown, twisty bun? A look you’ve held on to since eighth grade. At least my whole outfit can be found in a magazine.”