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  ‘Today, Amber Cross, manager at the Young Minds Centre, called a press conference to address the Berkley-O’Neil purchase of the building in which the counselling centre is housed. Jared Holmes spoke to Amber Cross from the centre and now reports.’

  ‘Can you believe it? She just wants to get on TV to bitch about the takeover. It really pisses me off when people don’t understand progress, you know?’ Craig yapped at me.

  But all I saw was the beautiful woman on my high-definition screen. She stood waiting to say her piece about our latest buy, with none of the ‘Ooh I’m on TV’ flush that people usually had when they got their thirty seconds of fame. She looked calm and composed as she opened her mouth to speak. I shushed Craig to hear her better.

  ‘Needless to say,’ she said, ‘we at the Young Minds Centre are devastated by the impending eviction of all occupants after Berkley-O’Neil thought it was a good idea to add our charity building to their already rocketing property development business. By doing this, they are taking away the only place where confused gay teens and young adults can come for help. These young people need us. They need to know that they are more important than some corporation’s bank account. That’s why I’m speaking out and bringing our plight to the public. I believe our teens are more important than a block of flats and I’m sure anyone with a heart not made of stone will agree.’

  Her words didn’t upset me, nor did they challenge me, but deep inside, I didn’t like this pretty and intelligent woman making our company look bad. My grinning brother was staring at the screen, relishing the plea of the woman on television and his power over their fate. I shook my head in dismay at his reaction. He sensed a fight, and he was looking forward to it.

  I’d only been working for the family business for over a month, so I was pretty much in the dark about recent purchases.

  ‘What exactly do they do at the centre?’ I asked Craig.

  Without facing me, he replied, ‘I dunno. Some kind of counselling place for gay teenagers.’

  Amber’s voice continued to float through the air.

  ‘It takes a special kind of heartless money-monger to close down a place like our centre for their own unnecessary gain. They would never dare show their faces, to come and see for themselves what a difference the Young Minds Centre makes in people’s lives every day. In fact’—she turned her face directly to the camera as if she were addressing me—‘I invite the buyers at Berkley, O’Neil and Associates to visit us for just one day. I challenge them to persevere in their monetary pursuits of turning this endearing and trusted site into some high-end apartment building or hotel. This is not just a building; it is a hub of life and hope to the users of the service we provide.’

  I couldn’t stop looking at her. Not only was she a natural, down-to-earth beauty with stunning red hair and big green eyes, I was intensely attracted to her attitude. Amber Cross exhibited a warring spirit but still came across as compassionate toward her fellow man. Anyone who chose happiness over money had my solid admiration, but of course, that didn’t go for Craig.

  ‘Can you believe that shit? Huh? Incredible. Not only is she making a complete idiot of herself in public by challenging the likes of us, she thinks that provoking us will get our attention. It’s a shame such a pretty thing is so desperate.’ He gestured to his crotch area. ‘Of course, if she wants my attention, I’d be happy to give her a good once-over at one of our hotels—on the house.’

  He winked and let out a lascivious laugh. The sound unsettled me.

  I watched his face change to a serious display of irritation. This Amber Cross had clearly got under his skin, regardless of the charade he was putting on. He sat quietly for a while, his eyes jumping from side to side as his brain worked overtime. Then his eyes snapped up to meet mine.

  ‘I won’t allow a small-time nobody to get in the way of my business, Josh. Hell no,’ he insisted in a more robust voice that dripped with anger. ‘This purchase is but one of many I planned and carefully executed. And you know what? I won’t have insignificant members of the public cause holdups and obstacles for my vision of the future. I won’t take this shit from anybody.’

  ‘Relax, Craig,’ I said calmly, thinking of the upheaval an eviction would mean to the youngsters. I doubted I could change Craig’s mind but it was worth a try. I gave my brother a tight-lipped smile. ‘You have more than enough money as it is. I’m sure that old place won’t make a difference in your … great vision anyway. Why don’t you let them stay there? A gesture of goodwill, so to speak.’

  Craig looked at me as if he wanted to skewer me alive. His face shifted from rage to confusion. ‘Wait. You’re not seriously considering this fucking challenge, are you? Are you off your rocker? You’ll give in to please some whiny bitch and in doing so compromise this company’s integrity and … and power?’

  ‘I never said that,’ I defended. ‘Listen to what I’m telling you. If we don’t respond to this woman’s challenge, we might as well say goodbye to the project.’

  He instantly looked less intimidating and even gestured with his head that he was eager to hear what I had to say, but I knew he was just doing this to give me the benefit of the doubt. Usually, he ignored my opinion anyway after listening to it, but it was worth voicing.

  ‘The public will believe everything she said and think we’re cowards hiding in the shadows, where we bully the needy and abolish all moral rules to make a pound, get it?’

  Craig opened his mouth to argue, then promptly closed it when I raised my hand.

  ‘That woman will be a hero and be proven right for calling us out as silent, faceless corporate bastards,’ I impressed upon him. ‘Is that what you want?’

  He jumped up from the sofa, walked over to my desk and stared me down as the thunder cracked outside. My brother looked like his old mean self, breathing his foul breath in my face as he leant on the arm of my chair, his face inches from mine.

  ‘It appals me how someone of your wealth and success would give a shit what the public and that pathetic bitch think of us,’ he whispered hard against my cheek. ‘You are a disgrace to this family. Weak. Cute and wholesome. There’s no place in this world for a snivelling wimp like you. Step aside and let the big dogs deal with business, all right?’

  Sweat beaded on his top lip and I wondered just how much self-control it took for him not to punch me in the face.

  I had nothing to say. He had responded the way he always did: callous and arrogant and furiously pissed that our parents had left me equal shares in the company. It was a relief they’d seen that Craig was not a man who should be given absolute power—not over anything. My parents had always kept him in check, but unfortunately, they weren’t around anymore to maintain that balance, and he’d become a big black block of negativity, out to conquer the entire property empire of London and its surroundings. I couldn’t stop him, and he knew it. But I had given up running my own successful business to save my father’s legacy before Craig could destroy it, so I had to at least try to minimise any potential damage he might cause. Engaging in a dispute with a charity that helped teenagers was not the sort of fight I wanted played out in the public domain.

  I watched with quiet amusement as Craig stormed toward the door at a brisk gait, shaking his head while mumbling what a waste I was. He cast me one last hateful glare before he jerked the door wide open and slammed it shut behind him.

  ‘Yeah, off you tread on your high horse,’ I said out loud.

  He had turned off the TV so I switched it back on to see if I could catch her again.

  Amber. Amber Cross. The woman haunted my mind on so many levels and I couldn’t let this incident go. I had to do something about our reputation, regardless of what my brother thought. Besides, he was no higher in authority than I was. My decisions were as important as his, held as much weight, and that’s why he hated me more than when we were children.

  ‘Gina,’ I told my personal assistant on the phone. ‘Get me Priscilla Jones at London Morning and Jim
my Grails at Channel 5. Tell them I would like to be interviewed regarding the Young Minds Centre issue … Yes, that’s right. Regarding the Amber Cross public invitation.’

  I sat back in my chair. Not only would Amber hear a rebuttal from the heartless money-monger she’d called out on TV, but Craig would be livid. A double score for me. I grinned at the black screen that had so recently held the image of her arresting face. Today had just got interesting.

  Chapter 3

  Zack

  Why did adults lie? They made statements as if they were set in stone: don’t worry about it; you’ll soon get over it; everything will be all right. What exactly did these words mean to someone whose whole world had caved in? Jack shit was what they meant. As far as I was concerned, adults could stick their ‘I know best’ platitudes up their arses. Fucking bunch of losers with their smarmy smiles, patronising voices and fake promises of better things to come. Well guess what? Nothing ever got better. If anything, they just got worse.

  I looked down at my mum’s gravestone and I brushed away my tears at the thought of her buried six feet under mud, mixing with worms and insects.

  At seventeen, I was supposed to be a man (well nearly), so crying was the last thing I should be doing according to society. I should have held my grief inside, had a stiff upper lip and just got on with life. If only it were that easy. My mum had been everything to me and now she was gone. I had no one, well no one who genuinely cared. My uncle tried to put on a good show about being there for me but work always came first. From the minute he woke up, his head was in a newspaper or his iPad, then he’d leave the house and wouldn’t return until he thought I was asleep. The last time I checked, looking after someone involved more than putting a roof over their head, but that was all my uncle had done for me. We were as far apart as two continents.

  My mobile phone bleeped. Without thinking, I removed it from my pocket but didn’t check my messages straight away. I knew who they were from: Hope, the one girl all the guys lusted over at college, but for some reason, she was only interested in me. I gave it a few minutes before I flipped open my phone. When I did, my heartbeat pounded in my chest, making it nearly impossible for me to breathe as I read and re-read the words over and over.

  I know why you don’t want me.

  What does she know? She couldn’t have found out the truth. I forgot about my mum lying stone cold beneath my feet as I quickly punched in some text:

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  I waited. Every second that ticked by seemed like an hour. When she still hadn’t replied five minutes later, my panic level elevated to red. I paced the gravel floor—four steps forward, an abrupt turn, then four paces back. My hands trembled as I checked and re-checked my phone.

  ‘Come on, Hope. Answer me for fuck’s sake.’ I licked my lips, aware that my voice was shaking. ‘Bloody answer me.’

  A passer-by stared at me with suspicion as she hurried past with a bunch of flowers held tightly against her chest. I attempted to give her a reassuring look, but it didn’t work. She bowed her head and quickened her pace.

  ‘Oh piss off then,’ I muttered under my breath.

  She probably believes all the shit she reads in the paper about teenagers being the new terrorist.

  I turned my attention back to my phone.

  The phone bleeped again and I inhaled deeply, prepared for the worst.

  You know exactly what it means.

  You’ve been keeping secrets.

  My legs buckled beneath me and I used my mum’s headstone to keep upright. With my free hand, I smacked my forehead hard. ‘No, no, no, no, she can’t know.’

  My breath rasped in my throat and my thoughts were muddled as I tried to figure out how to respond. Before I got the chance, my phone bleeped one more time. Even though I dreaded to see the words in black and white, I couldn’t help but look.

  Mel told me that you want to shag her.

  Mel? Relief hit me like a bucket of ice water. I laughed out loud as I combed my fingers through my hair and looked heavenward.

  ‘Thank you, God,’ I said, more out of habit than in the belief that a grey-haired man in the sky was looking over me. Trust Mel to save the day with her wild fantasies.

  That was one text message I wouldn’t be responding to. Best to leave Hope with the image of me being a bastard than her finding out the truth.

  I bent down and kissed my mum’s headstone, promising her I’d visit next week, then I headed towards the exit. As I walked, I thought about all the things that could go wrong if anyone found out about me. Not only would I have the piss taken out of me on a daily basis, but the news could also get back to my uncle. I didn’t particularly like lying but it was the only choice I had. Not that it really mattered. That was another thing adults lied about: always tell the truth. It was funny how the ones who surrounded me did anything but.

  Chapter 4

  Amber

  Before the previous day was over, I had received the official documentation concerning the eviction. We had twenty-eight days to leave the building. How on earth were we supposed to find the right office space and pay peanuts for rent? Because that’s about all we could afford. Finding an affordable property was a heavy yolk on me, especially since I’d received an email this morning from one of the companies I’d applied to for a job. They were pretty impressed with my CV and had asked me to come in for an interview in two weeks. Was this enough time to get my arse in gear? I had two weeks to save the centre, after which time I could attend the interview guilt-free.

  This news I was keeping close to my chest. Under normal circumstances, I would have been straight on the phone to Jen to share the good news, and right about now she’d be telling me what not to wear and how I should do my hair—the sort of chat that went on between close friends. But these were not normal circumstances and as much as I wanted to, I wouldn’t be telling Jen anything. If news of me seeking employment elsewhere came out while I was embroiled in this humongous task of saving our tenancy, it would be a catastrophe. My colleagues, volunteer friends and my teens would perceive me as a coward and a traitor who was leaving them in the muddy shit of this predicament, including Jen. It would look as if I were abandoning Young Minds and leaving them to fight a battle when they had the least power to do so.

  I couldn’t remember how many times I must have read that order to vacate. Somehow it made me feel better about my secret pursuit of other work, because the more I read it to find loopholes I could use to stop the eviction, the more I realised how tight the contract was. We didn’t stand a chance of winning this battle and I didn’t need to employ a solicitor to tell me that. Yet no matter how I spun it, how I tried to redirect the wording to find a plausible solution, I couldn’t get past the fact they were throwing us out.

  I munched on my marmalade toast as I looked through my kitchen window, watching the street below. I scrutinised the people walking briskly down the road, imagining what urged them to commute every day. I gave each one a fake name and guessed their occupation, their home life, and their capacity at work and in the lives of others.

  A mother, maybe single with three children, crossed the road. She looked tired and a bit sad. I wondered if she had a house or a flat, if she had money for food and when she last washed her blonde hair with proper shampoo. What was she looking forward to at this juncture in her life and what were her problems?

  A beggar, but not the dirty and annoying type, was minding his own business. His clothing was ragged and old, his face showing signs of exposure to the elements. I wondered how he’d got there. What had pushed him beyond a functioning life and into destitute hopelessness? Perhaps he’d been an alcoholic millionaire once but had lost his home and wife and was unable to pick himself up. Maybe he’d had a good life, but got sick and had to neglect his routine. Eventually, he probably gave up. Or perhaps he’d had a home and had been evicted.

  Evicted.

  Maybe he was thrown out and left with nothing, too poor to keep up a
nd stuck in a job that paid too little for him to survive. No … this was my scenario, my looming homelessness if I didn’t land a decent job, and my looming total loss of work if I didn’t change the minds of the property developers.

  My last piece of toast choked me and I gulped down the dregs of my cold tea. On my way to get my shoes by the front door, I looked in the mirror. I didn’t see an attractive woman in her late twenties with the charm of emerald eyes on Celtic features. No sight of beauty or youth, no hint of vibrancy or zeal. Weariness, worry and woe shaded my light green eyes and pulled at the corners of my mouth. I looked tired. I turned away from the mirror, not needing another reminder of my troubles.

  Fridays at the centre were usually filled with weekend anticipation and fun cracks at one another about what we guessed the others would be getting up to over the weekend, but I was certain today would be quite different. I pulled my kinky hair back in a ponytail, leaving it to look unkempt as it twirled to my collarbones.

  Feeling a bit under the weather and off kilter in mood, I let out a deep breath, ‘Sod it,’ and pulled the tight long-sleeved shirt over my shoulders. My jeans were stylish, taking the attention off my less than glamorous shoes. I didn’t feel like wearing make-up, but I ran my lip gloss over my lips before touching up my eyes with black eyeliner. After months of financial difficulty, the eye pencil was hardly longer than my thumb and I scraped away at what was left of the point.

  The eviction notice, folded in three sections, perked up from atop the glass surface of the kitchen table. Among my mobile phone, my handbag and my coat, it stood out in bright white to distinguish itself from all the other items to remind me of the task ahead. I never knew a piece of paper could agitate me so.