One of Six (Den Hollows #1)

1. Beatrice

1

BEATRICE

Beatrice Alexandria Lincoln. This has been my name since the day I was born eighteen years ago. My parents, Richard, and Elisabeth are patrons of the town of Mount Sterling in the Deep South. Sweet tea, served with a side of sweet fancy, is the official offering to visitors to the house.

I often wonder if anyone else would appreciate my life more than I do. My father is the one who bought and paid for my entire existence.

We live in a white mansion, a five-minute walk from the edge of town. It's where the wealth is. Lush gardens, sleek and shiny vehicles, designer flower beds, and fake people. The town of Mount Sterling is known for its old-fashioned charm and Southern hospitality, and residents like my parents keep those traditions alive. Despite the material wealth that surrounds us, I sometimes long for a simpler life. My father is the mayor. My grandfather is the judge, and my uncle is the sheriff. You see what I mean?

The residents want to be in my parents' circle of friends. They push their offspring in my direction, hoping that being my friend will bring them recognition. I don't bother anymore. I have one friend and she’s enough. It can be lonely living in a community where people are more interested in your family position than who you really are as a person.

I feel like a robot. A Stepford wife. Every waking moment is planned, even more so since I graduated from high school. I want to go to college. Not that I am interested in any field, but to get away from my family. I'm not sure that is going to turn out to my advantage, as my parents are against it. If my parents hadn't been on my back all the time about grades, maybe I would have fought harder. But now it's too late.

My skin itches against the cotton fabric of the dress I wear. The humidity makes sweat run between my breasts and down my back. The weather makes me sleepy as I listen to the drone of my mother and her three closest friends. The suffocating feeling of being trapped in this picture-perfect life is overwhelming. I long for freedom, for a chance to discover who I really am beyond my family's expectations.

Today's meeting is for them to decide which of their sons I will date first. I don't want to date any of them. I have no choice. Richard Lincoln has spoken. I feel like a pawn in their game of social status and tradition, with no say in my own future. The weight of their expectations crushes me.

I smile in all the right places, only half listening. A loud vibration shakes the China on the dining room table. My eyes wander out the window as a slight smile appears on my lips. Motorcycles roar past the house. The men who ride them live across the railroad tracks in Den Hollows. There are no white mansions with manicured lawns in Den Hollows.

I want to be free like them. Free to ride like the wind through the town without a care in the world.

Seconds later, my dream shatters as the sirens announce the arrival of the sheriff’s deputies. I sigh, wishing my uncle’s deputies would leave the men alone.

They are real men. No tailored three-piece suits covering their pasty white—sometimes overweight—bodies. Jeans and T-shirts cover their muscular frames. I imagine it’s one of them every time I use my vibrator.

A blush covers my cheeks as I turn my attention back to my mother. I wish I'd paid more attention, because ten minutes later they agree on something I missed.

As mother walks them out, I go to my bedroom and close the door with a huge sigh of relief. I throw the clothes off and into the hamper. In the shower, I scrub my hair to get the hairspray out, which Mom insists on before I scrub my body until I'm red and clean.

When I’m done, I brush out my red hair and put on shorts and a vest. I go downstairs barefoot and follow the sound of my mother's voice into the kitchen.

She gives me a scathing look, her mouth tight. "Beatrice, I asked you to be polite. I didn't expect it to be so difficult for you."

"I was there. I served the sweet tea and the fancies. I smiled and spoke when spoken to. What did I do wrong?" I clench my fists behind my back, angry at the words I force from my lips when I want to say so much more.

"Honestly, child." She grabs my arm and drags me through the house. "My friends noticed when you were distracted by the window." Her eyes narrow. "Those Redd boys and their gang of thieves."

"They're not thieves, Mom." The second the words are out of my mouth; I feel a sharp pinch on my arm. "Ouch."

"You watch what you say to me!" she snaps. "Your father was right. You need a man to keep you in line."

"I'm eighteen. I want to go to college and get an education." I pull my arm free, feeling the bruise already marking my skin. “Dad said he would think about it."

Mom sits down. "Yes, well, your father has thought about it. You are going to get married. We can keep an eye on you here until that happens. Make sure you stay pure for your husband."

My mouth falls open.

"Oh, Beatrice, stop catching flies." Her eyes sweep over me in disgust. "You have a date with Jason Greenwood tomorrow night. You will behave like a lady or face your father. Do I make myself clear?"

"Jason? Isn't he old?"

"He's a respectable lawyer in town. He just turned thirty." Her eyes narrow. "Didn't I ask you a question?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I say. "I'm clear." Inside, where no one can hear me, I scream.

“Instead of sulking around the house, go to the store and buy some milk.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to go get it herself in her nice, air-conditioned car. But I don't. My dad's hand hurts bad.

I take the ten dollars she hands me. "Get yourself something to drink so you don't faint on the way home."

As soon as I slip my feet into a pair of ballet flats, I step outside, and the heat envelops me. This summer is hot.

The houses I pass make me sick. None of the people who live in them deserve it. They don't care about anyone but making more money for themselves and kissing my family's ass.

I walk through the gates that are supposed to keep others out, wondering which guard will lose his job because the men from Den Hollows rode through. The men ask for trouble by doing what they did today. Part of me doesn't blame them. If I was told to stay away from somewhere, I'd want to go. The only difference is that I wouldn't have the courage to do it.

I walk through the pretty town, past the barber shop, the post office, and the library on the corner. I cross the street and pass a few restaurants and the sheriff's office. I turn right and walk towards the big grocery store.

The store is quiet as I enter, and I take a moment to stand under one of the air conditioning units in the ceiling. My eyes go wide when I catch my reflection in a mirror. My red hair is completely dried and sticks up everywhere. There is no rhyme or reason to it.

"Beatrice, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Gleeson. Mama sent me for milk." I sound like my ten-year-old self. "And a popsicle." I like the owner of this store. He has always looked the same—slim, with a head full of white hair, a big nose, and dark eyes that miss nothing hidden behind large black specks.

He smiles warmly, revealing a row of perfectly straight teeth. "You always liked the popsicles."

"I deserve two today. Or maybe three.”

"You know where everything is." He smiles. "I'll ring you up when you're ready."

"Thank you." I move away but pause. "Mr. Gleeson?"

"Yes, Beatrice."

"Did you see Den Hollows come through town?"

Mr. Gleeson's smile falters slightly before he answers. "I'd have to be dead not to know when they ride those bikes." He winks. "The sheriff's men chased them right back out of town."

"Oh!" Disappointment settles in my stomach, and I'm not sure why. It's not like I know how to talk to them. If I did, I would feel my father's hand afterwards.

I walk over to the popsicles, pick out a pink one and bite into it with my teeth. As soon as the popsicle bursts it's wrapping, I lick it slowly, savoring the taste. I close my eyes and sigh with pleasure. I wrap my tongue around the ice before taking it into my mouth. It tastes so good.

The sound of a growl makes my eyes open wide. My heart stutters in my chest. The Redd brothers stand on the other side of the store with all eyes focused on my mouth. It has been a long time since I have seen one of them. I don't think I've ever seen them all together—Atilio, Nico, Boone, Galen, Ridge, and Essex. Six brothers. Six heartbreakers. Six Den Hollows.