Good Grades & Mystery Games (North University Series Book 2)
Good Grades & Mystery Games: Chapter 8

The start of the school year always ends in a series of stupid decisions for me. It’s something I can’t get rid of. It’s almost like a canon event that has to happen or else the rest of the year will turn to shit. Well, either way, it will turn to shit.

At the start of first year, I was the only person in my class to turn up in a pantsuit, believing it was smart to look my best. Of course, when Branson wears a suit every day, everybody thinks it’s hot, but when I do it, I’m trying too hard.

Then I realised how easy college boys are. Like, a little too easy. Then I dated Jake, replaceing solace in warm bodies instead of being alone.

Then, in our sophomore year Evan and I’s competition went off the scales. Every lesson turned into an aggressive board meeting and after the Christmas 2021 Incident, where I revealed that I had sex with someone in our classroom as part of truth or dare, I don’t think he’s looked me in the eye since then. And now this year, my dad is in the hospital and I’m stuck working with Branson for the project, which I’m already anticipating will be months of torture.

See? Canon events of stupidity.

After spending the last few nights tossing and turning about what could have happened with my dad, I was relieved when my uncle Gio called me. I’m hoping that seeing him will give me some peace of mind; he usually does.

Growing up, as the business has always been a family thing, I got to see the different perspective that Gio brought to Voss. While my dad’s ideas were typically old-fashioned and he was stubborn in accepting new ones, Gio always managed to persuade my dad into new additions whether that be on the website, promotional advertisements, or the actual clothing.

Unlike many members of the team, Gio actually went to college, gaining a degree as an economist and in design and technology before joining Voss. Even though my dad would freak out if he knew, some of the ideas Gio has pitched have actually come from me too. It’s not that my dad doesn’t think I’m smart enough or capable to get involved, he just wants to keep me safe and there are lots of risks with joining a multi-million dollar business like ours. So, I keep my designs and plans to myself, waiting for the opportunity after I graduate to finally show my dad what I’m worth.

Gio and I have always been close. While the boys and my dad had a strong relationship, I gravitated more towards Gio. He always listened to me and took the time to get to know me. He understands what it’s like to be the youngest sibling in a family full of entrepreneurs and surrounded by insane amounts of money. We got even closer when his wife, Sara and their good friend Lucas died in a plane accident, which inevitably led to bad press for Voss with rumours speculating that Lucas and Sara were having an affair.

After losing Sara three years ago, Gio submerged himself into working closer with the business and brought about new changes in honour of his late wife. It’s been a tough journey for all of us, but that’s why I need to go and see him today. We’ve not spoken much about what has happened with my dad, but after talking to Evan, finally vocalising my fears out loud, I realise that I’m ready to dive into this. Whatever this is.

I walk up to Gio’s front door, taking in the surroundings of his secluded modern home in the mountains. He moved out here after Sara’s passing and the piece of land he has for himself here is gorgeous. The house gives off a natural, woodsy vibe and a gallery-like aesthetic on the inside, unable to tell if it looks straight out of a horror film or a cute family vacation home.

I knock twice and it takes all but five seconds for Gio to pull me inside, dead bolting the door behind me. He’s only a few inches taller than me, still a lot shorter than my dad. His face is rough around the edges, his olive skin a little paler, as the trees around this house hardly let any sun in. He’s been growing out a rugged beard over the last few weeks and he resembles Bruno from the movie ‘Encanto’ with his shoulder length dark brown curly hair.

“Jeez,” I mutter when he spins me around, walking us over to his huge kitchen. “Someone is in a rush today.”

He basically pushes me into the high, white glossy stool that rests next to his breakfast bar, and I hoist myself up onto it as he rounds the island, closing the blinds on the kitchen window.

It’s only then that I realise that his house is practically in darkness. Where the light usually shines from the floor to ceiling windows, it’s blocked out by thick black curtains. I notice the record player in the corner of the open living room which usually plays 50’s and 60’s Italian music is cut off, records lining up behind it. Just looking at the lifelessness in here makes me shiver.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Gio tenses, turning around from the blinds and leaning down on the breakfast table, pulling up his long sleeved shirt to display his sleeve of tattoos, most of them that match with my dad and Lucas.

“Did they follow you up here?” he asks.

“Who?”

“The press. They’ve been hot on my heels for weeks,” he murmurs, pulling up two glasses from the cabinet beneath the island. “Want a drink?”

He reaches for a bottle of whiskey, pouring some into one glass. “Just juice, please.” He nods, opening the fridge to pull out my favourite tropical juice. “What’s going on, G?”

Gio sighs again and it sounds a little shaky this time as he pours the juice into my glass, pushing it towards me. “I don’t know. I’ve just had the feeling I’m being watched all week. I took the plane to LAX on Monday and when I landed, there were reporters everywhere, bugging me with questions.”

There are always reporters when it comes to my dad and Gio, so I’m not surprised. Especially in California, since that is where HQ is. I’ve lived in Salt Lake my whole life, but the boys had to live in LA for a few years before I was born. My mom says we moved to get away from the busy and non-private lifestyle. Still, there is an odd reporter here or there when we go out as a family here.

It’s definitely better here, it’s quieter and I get recognised less. But when I join them on business trips to LA, it’s hell. They like the drama there way more than they do here. There are a million different things to do and a million different scandals to get caught up in. But when I’m here, I feel safer.

“What were they asking? Was it about dad?” I quiz, taking a sip of my drink, loving the familiar taste.

“Yes,” he confirms, pausing as he glances back to the closed blinds and then back at me. “Scarlett, tesoro, I don’t know what to tell you.” He takes in a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Something doesn’t feel right. It hasn’t felt right for a long time.”

My whole body goes rigid. The more I hear my family addressing it out loud, it makes it seem more real. As if this isn’t something I’ve just made up in my head but a real, possibly life-threatening thing that is going to affect us.

“Do you mean about the whole thing with Tinzin?” I ask, whispering the last word as if we’re talking about Voldemort. “Because we don’t actually know anything about it, do we? It’s all speculation. A coincidence that it somehow traced back to Voss, right?”

He shakes his head, not in a way of disagreeing, but almost in a way to shake his head of the thought. As if there is something I’m completely missing. “It’s probably nothing, amore,” he says. If it’s stressing him out this much, it can’t be nothing.

“G, you can tell me. I’m not like Arthur. I’m not going to narc. I just want to understand the situation better. You know how it feels to be out of the loop,” I say, playing the youngest sibling card that gets him every time. I watch as his features soften, his jaw unclenching as he leans against the sink, arms dropped to his sides.

“Like I said, it’s probably nothing,” he says, trying to downplay it again and I raise my eyebrow, urging him to continue. “When I was at HQ, I heard a few of the shipping managers discussing the next import for solitaire diamond pendants and where they were getting it from just didn’t seem right to me. We always, and I mean, always, use imports from Canada or Botswana that are ethically sourced. We never get local imports. As much as it would be better for the small businesses, we don’t do that with the diamonds. It’s just not the way things are done.”

I blink at him, trying to make sense of it. “So, these shipping managers were thinking of getting it from somewhere else?” He nods. “Why is this a problem? Aren’t they just changing it up a little? It would be better for the small businesses, no?”

“I have never seen those shipping managers before in my life, Scarlett,” he explains, and it sounds like a punch to the stomach. This is not good at all. God, I think I’m going to be sick. “When I asked them who signed them on, they said it was from Mateo. I checked the records, and they were right. They were signed the day before he went into the hospital.”

“Oh my god,” I mutter. “What do you think they were doing? I mean, isn’t it always better to have the best product for us to sell?”

“Yes, of course. That’s what worried me. They said Mateo gave them the orders, but he and I never spoke about it. It’s making me wonder if I was spaced out during the meetings. If maybe I was in on this too and I’ve just forgotten. The store name sounded too familiar for me to have never heard of it before,” he explains.

“Which store?”

“‘Julia’s’ in Provo. Almost an hour from here,” he says before shaking his head again, looking at the ground. “Like I said, Scarlett, it’s all speculation. You know how hard it’s been for me. I wouldn’t be insulted if you thought I was going a little bit crazy. Maybe this was the plan for this rota, and I just missed out.”

“I don’t think you’re going crazy, G,” I say quickly. “You’re the furthest away from that. I believe you.”

He looks up at me, a small smile on his lips. “Don’t tell your brothers about this yet, okay? I need to figure out a few things before I talk to your mom too,” he warns, and I nod. I would never tell them anything. Henry, maybe. But Arthur has been an uptight prick since Alex left and Leo’s too high to care. “We’re going to figure out what happened to your dad, Scarlett. I promise you.”

“I know,” I say, and I believe him because one way or another, I’m going to figure it out. I have to. I need to. I’ve been second best to everyone my whole life, if I can figure this out, they’ll finally see how special I am.

* * *

When I walk out of Gio’s house a few hours later, taking the long route down to my black Lamborghini Urus, I pull out my phone, texting the group chat with the girls in it. They don’t know much about what is going on with my family, other than my suspicions with my dad’s hospitalisation. I’m sure they’ve picked up on the true crime documentaries I’ve been watching recently too.

Maybe that’s why I swear I hear a branch snap from a nearby tree. My brain tells me that someone is here, lurking somewhere. Watching. But my heart tells me that isn’t true. If I can tell myself over and over that it will be fine, I’ll start to believe it. I know I will. I take a quick look around and it’s all woods. No one is coming for me. I’m safe.

I glance back down at my phone.

STARBUCKS LOVERS

ME: OMG. Guys. I feel like I’m in an episode of HTGAWM!!

KEN: Who did you kill?

ME: No one. Jesus, Ken. Just LOTS of family drama. Wanna come investigate?

KEN: Can’t. Shelbia has us under a ball and chain.

ME: Boooo. What about Wrenny?

KEN: Dunno. Check her location.

When I’m strapped into my car, driving the twenty minute drive from Gio’s house to our apartment near campus, I hook my phone up to the speaker, double checking Wren’s location. She’s at home, which means I’ll be able to coax her into coming with me to stakeout the store. I know Gio didn’t tell me to go, but he also didn’t tell me not to go so…I’m going to go.

Wren answers on the fifth ring.

“Wren!” I basically squeal when the call connects, stopping at the stop sign. “Oh my god, you’re not going to believe this.”

“What is it?” she asks. She’s breathing really fast and hard, like she sprinted up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. Weird. But I’m too excited, so I continue.

“You know when I was saying that I hoped the stuff with my dad could turn into a real mystery? Well, I think it just has,” I say, my voice an octave higher than usual.

“Oh,” she says. Strange. She takes in another deep breath. “That’s- That’s really great, Scar.’

This time I don’t jump at the chance to speak and that’s when I hear it. The rhythmic sound of squeaking followed by the sound of thumping like something is banging against a hard surface. No way…

No.

Way.

“Wren, darling?” I ask sweetly, smirking when I get a sharp inhale as a response.

“Mm hm?’

“Are you having sex right now?”

“No,” she cries, and it sounds awfully similar to a moan. She’s panting harder now. “Of course, I’m not…Fuck, Mi-‘

Anddd, that’s my que.

I end the call, shuddering. Unfortunately, that is not the first time this has happened. She’ll deny it every time, but I’m not that stupid.

I’m happy though; she’s really grown into herself this past year and I love to see it. I’m still smiling when I pull into my parking space outside the apartment, hoping that they’ve finished so I can grab my friend and take her on this adventure.

My smile drops when I get to my apartment door. Not only can I still hear the bed hitting the wall, but Evan is also standing outside my door.

He’s dressed in his usual attire; black dress pants, a crisp white shirt and a black tie hanging lazily from his neck. It’s never actually tied and it pisses me off every time. If you’re going to wear a tie, tie it. I can’t tell if he enjoys dressing like he goes to a private prep school or if this is his only choice in outfit. Either way, it’s ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as him standing outside the door, ankles crossed, and his hands shoved into his pockets.

He’s been here a few times since our Friendsmas meal that he was invited to by proxy and countless game nights that bring out the worst in us.

He’s not said anything since I appeared in front of him, just staring because apparently that’s his thing now. Great.

I cross my arms against my chest, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What are you doing, you perv?” I ask, nodding to my apartment door, which is basically shaking at this point. I swear, they are absolute animals.

“What?” he gasps, blinking at me. Then the realisation dawns on him as he sighs. “Oh. ‘Cause they’re…Yeah. It’s worse at my house. Try sharing a wall with Miles’ room and you learn to tune them out.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask again.

“Waiting for you, obviously,” he says and my chest pinches. I hate feeling so nervous around him. He has no reason to make me feel like he can see just straight through me. Like every thought in my brain is just on display for him to have a pick at.

“Why?”

He groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “For the project…Why else would I be here?”

I tilt my head. “Oh, so you’re not here to listen to our friends have sex? I totally misread the situation,” I say in a mocking tone, loving the way his eyebrows pinch together.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, sighing. “Miles is hardly my friend,” is his pathetic excuse.

I snort because I can imagine the argument they would get into if Miles could hear him right now.

Miles Davis is friends with everybody. He’s been living with Evan for almost three years, I’m sure he would be insulted if he heard this blasphemy.

“I saw the pictures he posted from Wren’s birthday. And in case you’re forgetting, I was there too. So, the memory is forever etched into my brain.” Then, making my voice sound extra sweet, I add, “The matching outfits were cute.”

It was Wren’s 20th birthday in June, and we all had to come in matching outfits. Wren, Kennedy, and I came as the Chippettes while Evan, Miles and Grey went as Alvin and the Chipmunks. I almost peed myself laughing at Evan in a blue shirt, glasses and freckles scattered across his nose.

“It was Miles’s idea, not mine,” he mumbles.

“And yet, you let him,” I retort. He’s got to drop this grump act. His roommates can be annoying, but I know he loves them deep down. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to say now the small talk has died down.

When I look up, his eyes are still on me, and I can’t stop the words that come out of my mouth. It’s either this or interrupting my best friend doing it with her boyfriend.

“Wanna help me with this mystery?”

His eyes practically light up. Well, I think so. I’m still undecided if his eyes are blue or green. Still, his features smooth out a little as his eyes widen. “You got a lead?”

I shrug. “Sort of. Let’s go.”