Rebel North by J.B. Salsbury
Thirteen
Gabriella
“Gabby, honey, I’m home!”
I sigh into my coffee as my peaceful morning on the terrace comes to an end.
“You’ll never believe who I ran into at the bakery.”
“I bet I will,” I mumble into my latte.
My mom breezes onto the terrace, all one hundred and ten pounds of Pilates-sculpted body wrapped in Lululemon’s finest. “I brought scones.” She places an open bakery box onto the table between us.
She always gets food she doesn’t eat. Filling bellies is her way of showing love, which says a lot about why she never fills her own.
“Kirby Greenfield.” Her eyes sparkle with scandal, and I wonder how my mom would spend her time if she didn’t have people to gossip about.
I grab a scone and take a bite. “How is she?”
Kirby and I were best friends through high school, and when she moved to Santa Barbara to go to college, I almost went with her. We visited each other on holidays, and people said we were inseparable. But that was before.
“She’s engaged,” she says excitedly. “To William Walker. Do you remember him?”
Yes.“Hmm… no, I don’t think so.”
Billy Walker was a prick of epic proportions. The definition of wealth and entitlement, Billy had one goal—to land a woman from a wealthy family. Gag.
“He’s a partner in his father’s firm, and she says they’re buying a summer house in the Hamptons.”
“Good for them.” I shove half a scone in my mouth.
“Oh, Gabby, don’t be so bitter.” Her gaze slips and settles on my scars.
“I’m not bitter. I just don’t care.” I stand and prepare to leave her to what I’m sure is going to be a million phone calls to share Kirby’s news.
“The only person holding you back from the kind of happiness Kirby has is you,” she says to my retreating back.
I freeze, just shy of the French doors. “I’m not holding myself back from anything. And don’t assume I want Kirby’s life.” I move into the kitchen. “Can’t think of anything worse,” I mumble.
“Kirby said she’s tried to get in touch with you since the accident—”
“I don’t want to talk about this—”
“After two years of you avoiding her, she finally gave up.”
She’s not lying. I did avoid her. Her and everyone else. After the accident, I lost a lot of friends because life-altering experiences are just that—life altering. I’m not the same person I was three years ago. Nothing refines a person’s values like death. If Kirby had been through what I had, she’d never agree to marry a jackass like Billy Walker. Not that I blame her for living in the dark. She’s never had the blinders taken off.
Neither has my mom.
“If you see her again, please tell her I wish her the best.” I walk away only to hear my mom’s sneakered feet follow behind me.
“How long are you going to keep up this ridiculous charade?”
I drop my coffee cup into the sink and brace my hands on the cold marble. “Charade, mom?” I tilt my head to see her eyes, which are the same blue as mine. “This is the life I’ve chosen to live, and I like it—”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You were at the top of your class at Ju—”
“Stop it!”
She bites down so hard her cheek twitches.
“That is not my life anymore, and it never will be again. You have to accept that. I have.”
She drops her gaze with a sigh. “Your brother is doing so well working for your father. Maybe there’s something you could do with them?”
I laugh humorlessly. “You don’t listen. I am content. Why is that never enough for you guys?” When she doesn’t answer, I turn to head upstairs. “I have to go. I’ll be late for work.”
“Work. That’s funny,” she mumbles.
I keep toward the stairs.
“I’m going back to Los Angeles this weekend! Maybe we can have dinner before I leave?”
“Can’t!” I holler down the stairs to her. “I have plans.”
Once behind the safety of my bedroom door, I flop onto my bed, slam my face in my pillow, and scream.
Kingston
It’s been two days since I’ve been transferred out of Hayes’ torture closet into Ms. Coleman’s department, and I’m actually missing my asshole brother.
I tried to fight the move. Showed up every day to Hayes’ office only to find the woman waiting for me. She reminded me I had a choice—grunt through whatever work she sends my way or give her dirt on August.
She placed me under the guidance of a woman named Lisa, who is supposed to show me the ropes and get me trained in all things project management. But everything she says sounds like a foreign language, and the paperwork she’s given me to study may as well be written in Sanskrit.
“Kingston,” Mrs. Miller, Alexander’s assistant, greets me as I approach her desk. She’s old enough to be my mother… Actually, I think my mom is younger. “Are you all right?”
I run a hand down my face and moan. “Not at all.”
She frowns. “The transfer isn’t all you thought it would be?”
“Actually, it’s exactly what I thought it would be.” I lift a chin toward Alex’s office door. “Is he in?”
“He is, but he’s asked that I don’t disturb him.”
I roll my eyes and bang on the frosted glass door. “Open up! I need your help.”
Mrs. Miller’s desk phone rings. “Yes, Mr. North?” She studies me. “He does, sir. Distressed, a little pale, and uncharacteristically modest. Yes, I will.” She hangs up the phone. “You can go on in.”
The door clicks, indicating that it’s now unlocked, and I push inside to find my brother in front of multiple computer screens, his focused gaze darting between them.
“What do you want?” he barks.
“I want my job with Hayes back.” I lie down on his couch, one foot thrown over the arm, the other flat on the ground. I’m a mess.
“Ms. Coleman’s that bad?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s the problem then?”
I sigh and sit up so I can make eye contact with my oldest brother while I beg. “Let me come work for you. Design is so much more my thing.”
“I work alone,” he says firmly.
“I know, but I’m sure there’s something I can do—”
“There’s not.” He leans back in his executive chair, his scowl on me.
“I can’t do the job that Coleman’s asking me to do.” With my elbows propped on my knees, I run my hands through my hair. “All the people in the department have experience in engineering. I don’t understand any of the shit they’re trying to teach me.” I turn my head to meet his gaze because I know he’ll understand what I have to say next. “I’m so sick of feeling stupid.”
His scowl darkens.
“I shouldn’t even be here. North Industries is not my gig.”
He makes an mm-hm sound.
“There isn’t a single department in this company that I’d fit into.” I slump back against the couch. “Why is he forcing me to work here?”
He stands and moves to his drafting table. “My best guess? He wants you to earn your money.”
“I get that. I do. I just wish there was a department more my speed, somewhere I could lend my talent and interest.”
“Create one.”
My gaze snaps to the top of his head, the only thing I can see with his head down. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a North. You belong here. There’s no reason why we can’t modify the company to include your skills.”
I cross to him and lean against the bookshelf. “I don’t think North Industries has any interest in the fashion business.”
His cold, hazel eyes come to mine. “Interior design.” He hunches back over the drafting table. “You did a great job decorating Jordan’s restaurant. I don’t see why we can’t offer your services to our clients.”
“Hold on,” I say with hope swelling in my chest. “You think August would go for that?”
“Be stupid not to,” he says so softly it’s almost to himself.
“You really are a goddamn genius.” I try to pull him in for a hug, but he shoves me away.
“Fuck off.”
“I love you, brother!” I say as I jog out of his office. “Have I told you lately, Mrs. Miller, that you get even more beautiful every day?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “There’s the Kingston I know.”
I blow her a kiss and take off toward August’s office. His assistant isn’t at her desk, so I grip the handle, only to find it locked. I knock on the glass. “August, you in there?”
“Go away,” he says, accompanied by a female giggle.
“Gross.” I take his assistant’s seat, and my mind goes crazy with ideas—textures, fabrics, natural woods, and colors. I picture buildings as blank canvases and how I could bring them to life with my ideas. The structure its body, the interior its soul. Industrial, coastal, modern. From tile to art, the visions surge and make me feel the most alive I have ever felt inside the walls of North Industries.
“Oh!” Miss Vogul stumbles out of August’s office with the buttons of her blouse done up all wrong. “Kingston.” She tries to smooth her hair as if that’ll help her freshly fucked look. “I didn’t realize you’d still be here.”
The man keeps piling reasons upon reasons for me not to like him. Using his position of authority to seduce his assistant is another layer that makes me sick we share the same blood. I grab my pages of notes and head in to see August.
“August, do you have a minute?”
He’s slipping on his suit coat, looking much more put together than his assistant. “No. I’m busy.”
“One minute.” I hold out my pages of notes. “I have an idea of how I can contribute to North Industries.”
He holds his palm up, ignoring my offered notes. “And how’s that? Adding a nap room? Arts and crafts time? Maybe we can get Mrs. Miller to read bedtime stories over the PA.”
Okay… ouch. “If you’d just hear me out, I really think I’m onto something—”
“Forgive me, Princess, but I’m running a real business here with adults that have earned their positions and have bills to pay.”
“I—”
“You’ll continue on with Sophia, and when she gets sick of your lackluster performance, you’ll move to another department until you either find a place that fits or you quit and you’re off my payroll. Is that understood?”
I clench my jaw. “If you’d just listen to my idea—”
“I don’t pay you for ideas.” He chuckles. “I’m not sure what I pay you for, but I know it’s not your little ideas.”
My heart feels like it’s shrinking, and a bitter grin pulls my lips. “And what exactly are you paying Miss Vogul for, huh?”
His face reddens.
“Better tell your wife to make room in the penthouse for another North heir.”
“How dare you—”
I nod to his pants. “Your fly is down.” I turn on a heel, feeling as small as humanly possible. “Prick,” I mumble before walking out the door.