***Please note the full book of Pretty Like A Devil was pulled from Patreon for publication 3/9/24. Tier 3-5 patrons got/will get finished ebook ARCS of the book 3/11/24 š
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Y'all... I am so excited! š© I can't believe it's already time to share another book with you! I had such a good time posting chapters of EAT YOUR HEART OUT as I wrote it. As you know, this is a new Legacy boy's story, and I can't wait to share it with you! These first two chapters are free and available to anyone. If you'd like to continue reading along after this (I'll be eventually posting the whole book before publication), you can join my Patreon officially here. Tiers 3 and higher get access to books as I write them! They also get a bimonthly signed book from me! Eek!
Okay, enough of my chatter. Get to reading, and I'll see you on the other end!
Note: these chapters are unedited and subjected to change prior to publication. Thanks!
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Prologue
Aspen - age 12
I held my legs, shaking.
Oh, please. Oh, please. Oh, please.
My eyes shut tight, āJupiterā by Mozart playing in my head. Symphony No. 41 was always my favorite. It always helped. This entire summer it helped.
Please. Please. Please.
My nails bit into my legs, my fear a white hot current. He wouldnāt hurt me. He didnāt hurt me.
But he did chase me.
The last time he was here he did, and when the leaves crunched outside the cabin, I hid my face in my lap. I cried. I sobbed. I just wanted my mama. I wanted myā
The door crept open, and I couldnāt even look. The fear overtook me, and I pressed myself so hard into the corner. I didnāt know what Iād do if he chased me again. I wouldnāt run again. I promised him I wouldnāt run.
I wonāt run. I wonāt run. I wonāt run.
I rocked while I thought it. I rocked while I said it. I knew I was saying it. Over and over, I was saying it out loud, but I wasnāt sure if he could even hear me. I was crying too loud, my wails too loud.
Heāll get mad.
I tried to silence myself, but as the floorboards of the small cabin crept beneath me I wasnāt sure I could. He was getting closer. He wasā¦
āPlease. I wonāt run. I wonāt run. I wonātāā
I jumped when a hand touched me, my voice instantly cutting off. In fact, I slammed into the wall so hard a searing pain shot into my shoulder. I groaned, gripping my arm, but even still, I couldnāt look at him. I just sobbed.
āAspenā¦ā
My head shot up, not his voice but someone elseās. That someone else was my mama, and I leaped from the floor, my body shaking.
Mom grabbed me, burying me in the ruffles of her dress. She was crying too, and she didnāt cry.
āBaby girl. My baby.ā Tear trails ran down her dark cheeks, her hands gripping me, my locs. My mama was crying, really crying.
She fell to the floor, me in her arms like I was five instead of twelve.
āBaby girl, did he hurt you?ā she asked me, and I gasped.
She knew about him. She knew about what heād done.
I couldnāt say anything. Well, I did say something, but it was just her name over and over. I kept saying mama. That was all I could hear in my head. That and āJupiter.ā āJupiterā saved me. It kept me from crying most nights being here, screaming.
āMama.ā I absolutely shook in my momās arms, and I wasnāt aware when she finally got me up off the floor. Once we did, we moved steadfast, her directing me, holding me.
We werenāt alone.
There was lights outside, flashing lights, cop cars. I saw so many, their lights blinding me in a forest of trees and cabins.
So many cabins.
The one I stayed in was one of many, vast, and I was sure that was why heād chosen it. No one would find me out here, not when the new cabins were being used on the other side of the campgrounds.
I buried my face in my mamaās chest. My mama wasnāt tall nor did she have a lot of body to hug, but she held me so hard. She kept me safe, and I hid my face from all the cop cars. I hid my face from all the campers. I saw them too, boys of various ages both older than me and younger in shorts and t-shirts. They all watched my mama and me alongside camp counselors.
Everyone was out of bed for this.
I couldnāt stop shaking, and it was only when I was in the back of a cop car with my momās arms and a blanket around me that I finally looked up. I looked up just in time to see another cop car pull away. Someone was in the back of that car too, but he was alone.
My visual nightmare was by himself.
He looked so unusual back there, a kid like me. He glanced over his shoulder at me, the car putting distance between us, and soon as he made eye contact, I pressed my face back into my momās shoulder. I couldnāt look at those cold blue eyes. I stared at them every day for an entire summer, and I couldnāt look at them again.
Instead, I let fear take me again because I only glanced up after his own cop car took him away. I saw nothing but a head of dark hair while a boy no older than me was driven into the night. The other campers saw him too. They saw what he did too. Thatcher Reed was a monster.
And now everyone else knew it.
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Chapter One
Aspen - the present
āExcuse me. Are you incompetent? My daughterās dresses go in her closet. Not on her coffee table, honestly.ā
Eugena Davis spun on her red bottom heels. The middle aged black woman directed her staff with a firm hand while she questioned their intelligence. She waved at another, her expression terse, frustrated. āAnd you definitely be careful with that. One string on that cello matters more than your life. I assure you.ā
Jesus Christ.
āMom,ā I gritted. One would think after so many years of hearing my mother speak to people as if they were below her wouldnāt faze me, but I could honestly say the opposite. I cringed. āPlease.ā
She was embarrassing herself and me. I didnāt want people to think I was above them. Never had. Even with all the attention my career had gotten in the past few years.
My mama grunted, twisting in my direction. She popped her curled fists on her designer jeans, seemingly ready to tell me off. That was until someone came into the room with another one of my cellos and set it on the couch of all places.
I had to rub my temple when she told them what an idiot they were, how accidents could happen and someone could accidentally sit on it. Again, the cello itself mattered more than his life. At least to my mama and what was sad was I knew she believed that.
Instead of losing my fucking mind, I sat on the couch next to the cello case. I continued to let my mother direct bags upon bags into my new dorm room like I was some royal princess. Sheād had our staff pack up my entire life.
She glared at a man with hat boxes. āYou set those down gently. The pearls on thatā¦ā
āMatter more than his life.ā I was smart enough to keep the quip under my breath, but I did get the attention of Franklin Jones. He was surveying the room like he was supposed to, his suit polished, professional. The guy was jacked and looked like he belonged elbows deep in dirt while he dragged himself through trenches. Actually, that was how Iād first come across his work, a war film.
Keeping that thought to myself, I studied Franklinās eyes flare wide when my mom literally grabbed something out of someoneās hands. She once again called them incompetent, and I palmed my face.
Not long now and sheāll be gone.
Iād be counting the minutes. I had been counting the minutes and long before the decision was made for me to go to college this semester. Iād always planned to go to school, but life had different plans for me.
I didnāt think either my mom or I thought those cello lessons she invested for me when I was five would amount to anything. Most kids got involved with music at a young age, but Iād taken really well to it. In fact, so well that people now paid me to perform. This little dream my mom and I had turned into a career and a lifestyle I certainly hadnāt been ready for. My life seemingly changed overnight in a matter of years. The cover of music magazines. Award shows and sold out arenasā¦
Iād actually gone on tour with some of the biggest hiphop artists in the game. I played with people I grew up watching, and now, people paid to see just me. It was crazy, overwhelming.
My mouth dry, I continued to study my momās frustrations. People said we looked alike but I thought I resembled more old photos of my dad. Not that I could compare since he dipped when I was a kid. A judge, he had another life and apparently mama and me didnāt fit into it. He actually only started calling when he saw me at an award show, which was honestly just embarrassing. He had another family too according the tabloids, and I couldnāt help feeling sorry for them.
I wished I looked more like my mother. She was that classic American beauty featured in jean ads in the nineties. Literally, she used to do modeling before she put everything on hold for me and my career. We also both had locs and people compared us to looking more like sisters on red carpets than mom and daughter. This was also the reason she was rail thin, and though I didnāt get those genes, I was happy with my curves. They were modest, and I wasnāt anything more than a C-cup but I liked to eat and wasnāt willing to sacrifice them. If things were up to my mom though, that would be different. I had too look a certain way with this life, cameras and all that.
āYou can go. In fact, please go,ā my mom said, and I could breathe now that all my stuff was finally in the room. All my momās dictating was doing was stressing me the fuck out. Everyone but Franklin left the room, and once they had, Mom got out her phone. āIām obviously going to have to look into hiring some new help when I get back to LA. Honestly, weāll be lucky if they didnāt break anything.ā
These people were new, and that was due to the staffsā choice. No one wanted to work for us since my mom was so strict. She liked things a certain way and was the epitome of a momanger.
āEverything looks fine,ā I said, pretending to look and appease my mom. I got a look from Franklin along the way, the man doing his own pretending. I had to say heād done a lot of research for his role. He actually looked like a bodyguard over there with the way he studied the windows and peered outside at college students like he was making mental notes about them.
I guess thatās why youāre paying him.
That was why I was paying him, and he kept his mouth shut when my mom came over and asked him if he saw anything out of the ordinary outside. He probably wasnāt seeing much, which was the point of course. Queenstown Village was a college town, and that was what was down there on Pembroke Universityās quad. People were studying and listening to music belly down on the grass while others played frisbee nearby. It was a typical fall semester in the Midwest. At least, I believed it was typical. Iād only seen college on TV before this.
One thing the TV got right was how quiet things were, how normal. It all was the complete opposite of the busy and often frantic lifestyle I normally led in the music industry. I literally felt my body seep of stress when Iād gotten here, and itād been nice.
So nice.
This was another comment I kept to myself, and when Franklin gave my mother canned answers about the lay of the land outside, I breathed another sigh of relief. He was doing his job very well.
āEverything looks on the up and up, maāam,ā Franklin said before dismissing himself. My mom had worked out a two bedroom dorm so my hired security could have a room nearby. He was to stay with me all semester while I was here.
Little did my mother know that room wouldnāt be needed. She needed to believe I needed it though.
Mom allowed Franklin to leave. He stated he was going to analyze the perimeter again. It felt like heād said he had already done that a few times, but I wasnāt going to out his lies.
Play it cool.
Mom joined me on the couch. āSo Iāve spoken to the Chancellor personally,ā she said, her tone serious. She was serious, and I knew she was. She frowned. āHeās kept the details of you being here on the low. Not even any of the professors know. Youāll be able to attend classes like everyone else as long as you remain discreet.ā
Iād already been told about that. I was to keep to myself and not draw attention. No one was supposed to know I was here. I was to blend in.
Mom touched my shoulder, her fingers twisting one of my locs. āYouāll be safe, Aspen, and we will get to the bottom of those threats.ā
A pang of tightness hit my stomach, the threats the reason I was actually here and blending in as a student this term. I was at Pembroke-U to go to school, but I wouldnāt be going to school if what happened at Carnegie Hall hadnāt occurred. Iād been playing the biggest concert of my life, my literal dream. Iād done a lot in my career but the opportunity to play Carnegie Hall hadnāt come right away. It eventually had, and it proved to be the worst night of my life.
My mouth dried as my mother studied my face, actual concern there, and I knew she had it. I mean, if my daughterās life had been threatened on the biggest night of her career Iād be unnerved too, and this wasnāt the first time Iād put her through the ringer. Iād been kidnapped once. She almost lost me once.
Of course, that was a long time ago, but neither of us forgot. I mean, how could we, how could I? My mother and her overbearing nature kicked into overdrive after the summer I turned twelve. Sheād already been that way since it had just been us for so long. I was my momās life, and I knew that.
She moved a few of my lengthy locs over my shoulder. āNow, mind Franklin. You can have fun but be responsible about it.ā
Be responsible meaning blend in. I was to wear a disguise at all times. Again, no one was supposed to know I was here. I nodded. āI will.ā
āAnd of course, stay militant about your practice schedule. Your music isnāt your focus here, but we donāt want you getting loosey goosey and obliterating everything youāve worked for,ā she continued.
No, we wouldnāt want me getting loosey goosey, which was why sheād arranged for my teacher, Deborah Hays, to send me weekly emails of all the rigorous sheet music she wanted me to perfect while I was here. They ranged in difficulty but knowing Deborah theyād be challenging. I was also to keep up on my workout schedule and various appointments with my trainer, which would be conducted via Zoom now that I was here instead of in LA.
āThe Peloton is in your room,ā Mom informed, the perfect place for it to stare me down when I didnāt feel like doing it. She studied me in my jeans and tube top. āWe wouldnāt want you gaining the freshman fifteen while youāre here, and dear God donāt eat anything you canāt pronounce or has additives. Basically, stay out of that cafeteria. Thatās why we got you a meal delivery service. You donāt need to get fat just because youāre here.ā
Franklin came back in right around the time Mom said that, and though his attention averted to the room, that didnāt mean he failed to hear Momās comment.
God.
āThen thereās your medications, Aspen. You have a lot of responsibility being here on your own, and we donāt want you having aāā
āIāll be fine.ā I stood, adjusting my shirt, adjusting everything. She made me so fucking self conscious sometimes and like a child more often than not. Between the schedules and the appointments it was just too fucking much.
Calm down.
I focused on the positive thoughts that soon my mother and her habits would be gone. Sheād leave me alone, and sheād look into those threats.
Sheād leave.
That was when the guilt hit, sharp, and it always did when I got frustrated with her. I knew she was only this way because she cared.
Because of that, I didnāt fight her hug before she finally did leave. She told me she loved me, and I truly did believe she wanted me to have fun. Her delivery was just crap sometimes, and she did mention for me to have a good time again before she left. She told me not to worry about anything and that should would find out who threatened me that night at Carnegie Hall. Thereād been letters. Ones she foundā¦
āYour fee as promise,ā I said to Franklin whoād waited after my mom departed. We made sure she had before I got my purse. I nodded at the check. āAnd thereās extra there. For your discretion?ā
Heād already signed an NDA, but heād had to deal with a lot in the few days heād been with Mom and me. My mom could be a lot, and I got that.
The white manās eyes flashed. I assumed at the amount. It was worth it if he kept our agreement on the low.
Opening his jacket, he pocketed the check. āNo problem. Though, Iām confused why you wouldnāt actually hire security for yourself.ā
I was sure he was. The whole world heard about those threats Iād gotten. Itād been a few letters. The words on them had been cut out from magazines and pasted on the paper like something out of a psycho killer film. The threats had also been graphic about what the person would do to me if they found me.
My throat got thick all the sudden, my heart racing. I was scared but I was sure not for the reason Franklin believed. āI appreciate your concern, but Iāll be fine.ā
Gratefully for me, Franklin wasnāt being paid for his opinions, and I was sure he didnāt care enough to make anymore. He took his money. He left, and I was also grateful for something else after he did. I was grateful my mom didnāt have time to watch movies. More specifically, war films like the ones Franklin, the actor I just paid, starred in. Itād definitely set off red flags for her.
And sheād probably question the same thing Franklin did before exiting my life.
Ā©2023 Eden O'Neill
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***Pretty Like A Devil was officially removed from Patreon 3/9/24 for publishing, and I thank you all for reading the story while it was here! If you'd like to order the official ebook you can do so here.
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