Done Deal (Arcadia High Anarchists Book 5) Read online

  Table of Contents

  BLURB

  FREE NOVELLA

  READER GROUP

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  BLACK WHOLE HEART PREVIEW

  ALSO BY MAX

  MALING LIST

  THE MUSIC

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DONE DEAL

  Arcadia High Anarchists #5

  Copyright © 2020 Max Henry

  Published by Max Henry

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Max Henry is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book.

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  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Worn down, stripped bare, and exposed for all to see - our secrets are out in the open. The people I once called friends are on their way to destroy what I have. With no ammunition left, only one option remains: declare a ceasefire and strike a deal.

  If only we had a common ground.

  ARCADIA HIGH ANARCHISTS

  Reading Order

  High Horse

  Good Girls

  Bad Boys

  Rich Riot

  Loyal Love

  Done Deal

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  Rebirth

  re·birth

  /rēˈbərTH/

  noun

  1.

  the process of being reincarnated or born again.

  2.

  the action of reappearing or starting to flourish or increase after a decline; revival.

  TUCK

  “Where do you want to go?”

  I glance across at Johnson as he settles himself in the passenger seat of my Hilux. I chose to park at the end of their driveway before it opened out into the yard purely to keep my distance from his nutcase of a sister.

  “We’ll go to the Royal. Roger might not serve us, but I need a decent fucking feed.” He fixes me with an unimpressed stare.

  “A pub feed it is, then.” I shift my focus back to the yard ahead as I turn us around to head out, smothering the smile that tries to break free.

  His situation isn’t funny by a long shot, but we’ve tried unsuccessfully to point out for years how weird it is he shacked up with his stepsister.

  And now it all blows up in his face.

  “Got to make a quick stop-off to pick up Beau,” I say.

  The devil dog managed to get himself a sleepover at Maggie’s last night. Some of us are hanging out to know if the guy grew some balls and made the most of it.

  “You realise you’re turning the wrong way?” Johnson asks when we reach the road.

  “He’s not at home.” I figure the surprise will be worth it to see the look on Johnson’s face when we rock up at Mag’s house. “How’s your little step-tornado doing?” I ask, referring to Amber.

  Johnson slides down the seat with a huff. “Up and down like a fucking yo-yo.”

  “Didn’t know she had it in her.”

  He frowns in my periphery. “What?”

  “Remorse.”

  Johnson laughs, tipping his head back into the seat. “Bro. Don’t get all messed up about it. She’s not remorseful; she’s frustrated.”

  “About what?”

  “Our olds getting wind of her perfect set up.” He turns his head to face me again, fists loose on his knee. “She’s played the henchman for Mandy all these years, always taking the rap but never getting the glory, and for once, she thought she had it all made to put her on top.”

  “By acting like a right bitch?” I don’t get it. How is that better?

  “By offering up our sleepy little town to the wolves in the city on a fucking silver platter.”

  I turn my head briefly to frown at him. “She wants to use us as her ticket to popularity?”

  “Not popularity,” Johnson corrects. “She wants to throw down the gauntlet.” He straightens in his seat. “If Amber shows she’s capable of doing this to the people she loves, then what the fuck would she do to strangers like them?”

  “Have you figured out what her endgame is, yet?” He mentioned she chose Portside as her next school for a reason, but not why.

  “Not yet.” He goes silent a second before adding. “Do you think it’s got something to do with all the shit over social media?”

  “What shit?” I briefly consider pulling over to give Johnson my full attention.

  He shifts in his seat; body turned toward me. I can tell he’s surprised, even without looking directly at him. “You haven’t seen all the pictures flying around socials overnight?” He chuckles. “There’s even a private chat group dedicated to it.”

  “What pictures?” I throttle the steering wheel in my hands. “I was busy with Dad this morning bringing the ute home, and after that … well, you know how shit the reception is at our place. I didn’t bother looking at my phone other to see if I had any missed calls or messages.”

  “I seriously can’t believe you haven’t seen them,” Johnson mutters.

  I take a deep breath and swallow—hard—before I lose my shit unnecessarily. “How about you put me out of my misery then and explain it to me.”

  “Pull over.” He jerks his head to the side of the road.

  “Why?”

  “It’s easier if you just check it all out for yourself.”

  I do as he says and direct the 4WD onto the grass verge. He unbuckles and jumps out, skirting the front of the ute while I round the back to swap sides. Johnson barely has us in the road again before my phone sits in my hand, the glaring evidence smack in my face.

  I’m surprised the social sites haven’t pulled half this shit, yet. I’ve had pictures removed for less.

  “What the fuck is this goddamn mess?” I mutter, still scrolling past update after update about some subscription s
ite that shared dick pics.

  “I don’t know, but I think your girl has something to do with it.”

  “How?” Oh, fuck no. The further I scroll, the more I find. It turns out girls would submit carefully cropped shots of various body parts as well. “Don’t tell me one of these is hers.” I twist my phone to Johnson, displaying some chick’s oiled up tits.

  He laughs. “You’d know.”

  I punch him in the upper arm.

  “In all seriousness, though,” he says. “I don’t think so. Amber was ranting some shit about Lacey and Colt trying to take away her thunder. So, my guess is the rich fucks think your girl and her bro did this as some weird-ass retribution.”

  “How old are these?” I would have known if she was doing something like this while I’ve known her. Can’t believe I even think she would.

  “A few years. From what Amber said, it happened around the same time Lacey attended Portside.”

  “Fuck.” This overshadows my issues majorly.

  “What were you going to explain to me, then?” Johnson asks, as though reading my mind.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Not when there are way worse issues at play.

  ***

  “Have you seen the shit that’s going around?” I ask Beau the second he opens the back door.

  “Why is Johnson behind the wheel?”

  “Answer the damn question, Maun,” I demand as he settles in with a groan.

  Maggie stands none-to-subtly at the front door of her house to see him off.

  “You tap that?” Johnson asks.

  “None of your fucking business,” Beau snaps.

  Totally did something. “You seen it all?” I ask again.

  “All what? The shit the girls are going nuts over?”

  “Guess so.” I face forward again, refreshing my feed. “You didn’t look for yourself?”

  Beau shakes his head, so I pass my open device back for him to browse. He goes quiet, eyes slowly growing wider the further along he gets. “Wow.”

  “Hardcore, right?”

  A brief second passes before he shakes his head. “Yeah, it is. But I was talking about what Lacey just text you.” He grins like a fucking looney as he passes the phone back.

  Johnson chuckles beside me while I open the thread to read her message.

  L: Wish we hadn’t been interrupted ;)

  I kill the screen, shifting my hips a little at the memory of her taste. I’ll reply later when these jerks don’t watch over my shoulder.

  “Wanna share?” Johnson teases.

  “Nope.” I stare out the window with a deep frown.

  Something nudges my elbow. I turn to look at Beau, where he sits behind Johnson, and catch the inquisitive lift of his eyebrows. “Does he know?”

  I shake my head. J seems not to notice the exchange, preoccupied with turning into the Royal’s parking lot.

  “Your old man have anything else to say before you left?” I ask as casually as I can muster.

  “Nah.” Johnson shakes his head, lining up my truck between two dirty work vehicles. “I don’t think he even noticed I left. They were both fussing over Amber when I last saw them.”

  “Got to be a first.”

  His old man rides him about everything. Every tiny detail. For him to give Johnson such a wide pass might be a good sign that Mick took his conversation with Maggie’s mum seriously.

  “Is Ed meeting us here?” Johnson asks.

  “No. Why?” I take the keys from him.

  “Thought if we’re all catching up to talk about Dee’s, he should be in on it.”

  Shit. I never thought it would seem that way when I offered to give Beau a lift home, albeit with a detour.

  “I guess that would be a good idea, huh?” I laugh.

  Beau shakes his head, making it look awkward to climb out of the back without bashing his cast arm.

  “How the fuck did that happen?” Johnson asks as I pull out my phone to contact the fourth member of our party.

  “Fell off Betty.”

  “He may have had one too many,” I add.

  I look up when I realise our trio has gone quiet. “What?”

  “You guys got drunk without me?” Johnson asks.

  “Bro.” I pause with my thumb over Ed’s number. “We haven’t exactly been tight for the last few weeks. I didn’t think you’d want to join us.”

  “Sure.” He strides away, heading for the bistro doors. “Whatever.”

  “Did we do wrong?” I ask Beau once Johnson is out of earshot.

  He shakes his head, watching our troubled buddy. “Don’t sweat it. He’s just a bit lost, I reckon.”

  “True.” I nudge my elbow into Beau’s side, making him wince. “So? Did you hook up?”

  His lips curl up on one side. “What do you think?”

  LACEY

  “Delete it all.” Dad pushes his laptop across the kitchen table toward Colt. “You’re playing with the emotions of people who never asked to have a part in this.”

  I catch the glimmer of understanding in Colt’s eyes.

  “I’d love to, Dad, but the pictures shared on social media didn’t come from me.” Colt gently closes the lid of the laptop. “I sent their submissions back to a select few by way of Messenger. The shots circulating the feeds today must have come from opportunistic bottom-feeders.”

  Dad sighs heavily, one hand dragging down his face. “Regardless, you started this.”

  “I know.”

  Our father shakes his head slowly, gaze fixed firmly on Colt. “I thought I raised you with more morals than this.”

  “You did,” my brother offers softly. “Mum didn’t.”

  “Let’s not fall down that well right now,” I state, breaking their intense stare-off. “Dad, we screwed up—”

  “You weren’t involved in this,” Colt interjects.

  I hold my hand up to urge him to let me finish. “And there will be plenty of time to decide on an adequate punishment later. Right now, we have to figure out how to put out the fires we already started.” I hesitate to swallow. “And, we need your guidance.”

  Our father glances at each of us in turn before settling his gaze on the tabletop before his hands. “I can’t even place a name to what I feel right now,” he reveals, brow knitted tight. “Shame? Anger? Maybe even a little fear?” His clouded eyes bore into us in turn. “There are some real, adult consequences on the table here.”

  “I know,” Colt murmurs.

  “Did it cross your mind at all before you cooked up this scheme?”

  My brother shrugs a singular shoulder.

  “I take that as a no, then.”

  “What would you have done?” I ask quietly.

  I’m sick of our parents lambasting us for our choices on the one hand and then revealing they did much the same at our age on the other. There appears to be way too much pot calling the kettle black for my liking.

  “I don’t know,” Dad answers quietly.

  “Mum’s family didn’t like you at the start, did they?” Colt asks.

  Dad shakes his head, staring back down at his hands.

  “How did you handle that?”

  “By ignoring them to begin with,” he explains. “And then when that became frustrating, I figured I’d beat them at their own game and prove upbringing means jack shit when it comes to success.”

  “But it did, didn’t it?” Colt states.

  “Only because I got slack.” Dad sighs, stretching his arms out across the wooden surface. “I became complacent. Forgot that our friends were nothing of the sort and stopped approaching every situation from their point of view.”

  My eyes widen at his explanation of it all. He’s so right. Colt and I approached this whole affair from the viewpoint of our hurt ego. If we wanted to find the best way to impact our peers, we should have put ourselves in their shoes.

  Every one of us has a reason for the hurt we cause. Be it directed from our selfish desires, or the influence of others, nothin
g is done without an expected result. And I don’t talk about the harm inflicted.

  “They just want to be loved,” I blurt.

  “What?” Colt asks.

  Both he and Dad swing their heads to face me.

  “Okay, so hear me out.” I straighten in my seat at the dining table, placing my elbows on the surface—my mother would be horrified. “To some degree, there are ones like Christian who get a kick out of playing games with people, but,” I state loudly to show I don’t want to be interrupted. “Think about why the others treat us the way they do.”

  Dad’s eyes dart over points on the table while he mulls it over. Colt simply shrugs.

  “Who taught them those beliefs?” I hint.

  “Their parents,” Dad says.

  “Exactly.” I scoot a little closer to the front of my seat. “Take me as an example. I knew everything I did with Libby was wrong. I was well aware that the way we treated our peers was mean. But I did it anyway. Why?”

  “Because you wanted to keep Mum happy,” Colt supplies.

  “Right.” I wave a pointer finger his way. “I don’t expect the steadfast ones like Libby and Richard to sway overnight but look at the others. They already show signs of remorse, of questioning what it is they do.”

  Dad leans in.

  “Christian set up Marion today, right?”

  Colt nods. “He’s also spoken to me in the past about wanting to make his father proud by showing he can conduct his own savvy investment without any help.”

  “Right. And Greer has completely turned around.”

  Dad’s gaze flicks to my brother.

  I choose to question that later. “Ingrid acts like a wounded bull half the time, and before we moved out here, Barrett revealed something pretty big to me.”

  “What?” Dad asks.

  I glance at him, and then to Colt. “I think the reason why he hasn’t been around is that he might be in rehab.”

  Dad leans back in his seat. “Shit.”

  “How else do you dampen a guilty conscience if not with drugs?” Colt muses, no doubt drawing parallels to his misuse of alcohol from time to time.

  “I think you might be on to something, honey.” Dad taps his fingertips in a line atop the table. “Further punishment won’t work, then.”

  “I think we need to flip this completely on its head and give them what they’re missing from the people they care about.”