Keep paris, p.1
Keep Paris, page 1
Keep Paris
..
Boston Brothers: A second chance series
Kelly Kay
Keep Paris
Copyright @2022 by Kelly Kay/Kelly Kreglow
All rights reserved
Visit my website www.kellykayromance.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination, public domain and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales are coincidental, or if an actual place or person, they are used fictitiously.
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Published by Decorated Cast Publishing, LLC
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To those who show up.
The ones who ever have my back.
You know who you are, because I’ve got yours. Love you. Thanks.
Quick note from Kelly
Hello Readers—
I’m thrilled you’re here, but I wanted to give you a quick content warning.
There is a tense situation involving a near date assault. This book also discusses a past incidence of domestic violence. I hope I’ve dealt with the subject matter with respect and honesty. It’s never my intention to be exploitative.
Know that, like with all of my books, a portion of the profits will go to a not-for-profit charity that reflects issues in my books. Just by reading this, you’re helping the Connections for Abused Women and their Children -CAWC- in Chicago. Thank you. https://www.cawc.org/
Talk soon,
Kelly K
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Contents
I. Première Partie
Ten Years Ago
II. Deuxième Partie
Present Day (aka…ten years later)
III. Troisième Partie
Still the Present
Epilogue
Hey Kel, What Else Can I Read?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Part One
Première Partie
Ten Years Ago
LIZZIE
I’m already more continental. My parents insisted I go on this trip and I convinced my best friend’s parents to let Kristin come as well. My senior year is kind of a joke since I basically could have graduated last fall. I’ve finished all my credits and I am currently number two in my class. I’ll never beat Jennifer Liu. That bish has it on lock.
My high school hooked up with some travel group and offered twelve weeks in Paris for our spring semester. Intense study, culture, and because I speak fluent French, it’s also AP credits. I want baguettes, architecture walks, to read French poetry on the steps of the Notre-Dame and to reread my favorite Lost Generation authors—in the cafés they loved. Words have always been my escape from my parents, peer pressure, or heartbreak.
Our group has twenty-three kids from various parts of the West Coast, my best friend Kristin and I are the only ones from Burlingame. She’s, like, model tall with a wicked sense of sarcasm and short pixie hair that’s braver than I ever could be. We’ve basically formed a gang with hysterical three girls from Reno. They ordered cocktails on the plane once we hit international waters. I hope I’m good at being part of a gang.
We’re moving into our rooms at our dorm/hotel. There’s a couple other groups from around the US and Australia. Maybe I can kiss an Aussie. I want to know if kissing gets better than a dude shoving his tongue into your mouth and wiggling. I’m eighteen and I’ve kissed my fair share of boys, but I keep waiting for it to be better.
The rooms have twin beds and the suite connects through a shared Jack and Jill bathroom. Because we’re here for almost three months and my parents made sure I had my own space to study, but Kris is my suite-mate.
“AHHHHH. Holy shit, this is cool.” Kristin does a spin and tosses her stuff anywhere she wants in her room. She has a ton of siblings, so to have her own space must feel decadent. “We could make a lounge out of one room, put the beds on the wall like couches.”
I consider it for a second, then see her stuff everywhere and panic. “Let’s see what it’s like to have big rooms all to ourselves. Maybe later we can create a lounge.”
“PERFECTO!”
“You know that’s Italian, not French.”
“C’est moi. Comme ci comme ca.’’
I smile at her. “I’m making one mega bed out of the two. I’ll call down for king-size sheets.”
I say, “Sounds good.”
I head back into my room. I like things the way I like them. I unpack and arrange my toiletries around the closet sink. Kristin pops a beer as she comes into my room. I didn’t know she had one.
“Where did that come from?”
“Reno girls. They want us down in their room when we’re settled. You know, when you’re done organizing. I swear, your fucking sweaters are folded like you work at the Gap.”
“I dream of owning one of those folding boards.”
She tosses her loofah sponge thing at me.
We make our way to Makenzie and Maggie’s room. We don’t have to be anywhere until dinner where all the students hear the rules and meet the teachers.
“Seriously, their room number is 666?” Kris’s boisterous laugh fills the hallway as she knocks.
Makenzie flings the door open and French pop music comes spilling out. “I don’t know what they’re saying, but we’re dancing our asses off to it.”
They all have beer. Misty is smoking out the window and Kris joins her. I meekly take a beer and panic a little we’ll get caught and kicked out.
Kris exhales. “Lighten up, Lizzie. You’re fine.” She knows me. I sway to the music. The lyrics are about partying and enjoying life. Ok. I get you, universe, message received. I toss back a sip and they cheer.
I’m dancing with Maggie and we’re laughing hard when a phone ring cuts through our party. Fuck. It’s management. It’s the chaperons. We’re so busted.
I turn off the radio and Makenzie bolts for the phone. Shit. I start pacing. I’m the only one terrified. Shit. My parents will kill me. All this money and opportunity and I throw it away within a few hours of being here. Shit. The institutional wall color is supposed to soothe me; it does not. Fuck you, pale yellow. Fuck you.
We all hold our breath as Makenzie answers. “Hello?”
We watch as her eyes widen.
“No.” She answers a male voice. I never do anything, and here, the first time I let loose—busted. I’m never doing anything wrong again.
Then Makenzie smiles.
“Not possessed.” We all exchange looks of curiosity and relief. “Why don’t you come down here and meet my coven for yourself? Or maybe you want me to hex you?” Makenzie’s fucking flirting.
“There’s five of us… That’s my lucky number, too.”
I really, really hope it’s not a chaperone. Christ. I don’t know her well. Please let her not be an edu-chaser.
She hangs up and pulls on a pair of leggings. She was dancing in her underwear.
“What?” We’re all staring at her. She grins and sits on the bed, moving her long jet-black hair out of her face. Then s
“Tony and his friends are on their way down.”
“Who’s Tony?” Maggie asks.
Makenzie shrugs. “We’ll find out.”
DANNY
Been here four days, sober about twenty-five minutes. It’s wicked pissah awesome. We convinced our parents we needed to come early to Paris. Why the fuck not? I haven’t seen my parents in months because of my football scholarship at a snooty boys academy, and since I’m the star quarterback, and I’m fucking good, I haven’t done shit with my grades all year. Charm and a good arm open all my doors. I’m waiting on the rest of my college offers but Penn State wants me bad. Duke wasn’t willing to negotiate because my grades weren’t stellar since I was born. Fuck them. I want a Big Ten or Pac-12 school. It would be fucking sweet to be the hometown hero in Boston but I’ll play at the best program that wants me. Football is my path forward.
Tony, my suite-mate at Xavier Prep, is a fucking rich-ass party hound. He’s from Boston too, but a very different Boston. He’s never been down to Southie.
Tony’s my tour guide through the world of money. Within an hour of landing in Paris, he had a pocket full of speed and a bag of coke. I don’t touch that shit. Won’t risk my scholarship or conditioning. He’s that guy who always lands on his feet. I’m not that guy, so I stay clean.
I’ve known his parents since I played Pee Wee football All-City All-Stars with Tony’s brother and started hanging around their house. They’re kind and good parents. They paid for my plane ticket to Paris. They’ve been really fucking good to me. I told my mom the team paid so she didn’t feel bad. I’ll pay the back someday.
I’ve never let a training moment slide or slack off, despite what my father thinks. With the season over and my prospects good, Tony begged me to come on this trip. I don’t need French credits, but three months bumming around Europe with his deep pockets sounded pretty fucking good. We might go to his house in Italy. His parents have a house in a foreign country. My parents have eaten at IHOP.
We’re sitting around drinking and playing cards. I’m the shark and currently earning my spending money for the week. I’ve been regularly taking these assholes’ extra cash for two years. My neighborhood and my Italian mother taught me a thing or two about tells. I learned early—you read the person, not the cards. Everyone has a tell. Mine’s flicking my thumbs on my forefingers. Sometimes I have to sit on my hands.
Colton, my brilliant wide receiver and all around good fucking dude, calls my bluff. I toss the pot to him. He’s from Boston but his dad is a Senator, so he splits his time between home and DC. We knew him from city sports but damn can he catch whatever the hell I throw. I love that he turned up at Xavier. Fucking love it. His folks have political money and power. He’s a pussy cat though, who never lacks for company.
“You’re slipping there, gangsta.”
“Lulling you into a false sense of security until I take you for all your spending cash.”
We’re all playing except Tony is prank calling within the hotel. He’s scaring the shit out of other kids or annoying the chaperones. No one can trace our calls on these museum piece phones. Most of this place is like a shrine to the ’80s. We keep calling it a minimum security prison.
We turn our attention to Tony who leaps in the air yelling, “Jack-fucking-pot, gentlemen. Time to ride, my good men. Grab your armor and provisions, we have lands to conquer and worlds to bring to their knees. Hopefully with our dicks in their mouths.” I roll my eyes. He loves a grand gesture. Last year during some medieval humanities unit we were the modern Knights of the Round Table. He dubbed himself king and we were all given a place at the table. He bought us chalices for Christmas and hung banners and flags with our “logo” on them. Other factions challenge us to soccer or flag football from time to time to try and take his “crown.” He still has it.
His voice raises and returns to normal. “Up. Not kidding. Grab the beer.” He starts clapping.
Colton pushes up from our makeshift poker table and groans. “Adventure?”
Tony puts his coat on and lifts his umbrella to the sky. “Onward to adventure, good chaps! The numbers are in our favor!” We all grab our coats and the beer cooler, and the elevator takes us down two floors. Not the adventure I’d thought.
“Come, the witches await.”
He knocks on the door to room 666. A short, pretty girl with sparkling golden eyes and luscious long highlighted hair opens the door and says, “Tony?”
He smirks. “Are you the charming woman I spoke with?”
Another girl appears as the first opens the door wider. She’s tall and skinny with straight dark hair and stunning dark eyes to match. They’re both hot.
She looks Tony up and down and says, "Ok. I’ll allow it. Come in. I’m Makenzie.”
She winks at Tony and turns into the room as the first girl keeps the door open. Colton takes over door duty and smiles at her. She giggles at him as he winks. Colton is a man of few words, but that damn wink gets him laid every time. I’m the last one to file in, leaving Colton and sparkly eyes to themselves.
Tony and his female counterpart are in the middle of introductions as I remove my jacket. When I lift my face, it’s like my O line isn’t even there and I’ve been sacked. Breathless. Fuck me, she’s gorgeous. I mean, like, otherworldly ethereal.
Her umber colored bangs unfurl over the lightest green eyes. Then she shifts her focus to me. Her eyes are saying things only I can understand and hear. Normally my attention would have already drifted to her legs, hips, and tits, but I can’t look away from her face. My lips twitch into a smile that mirrors hers. Tony and the brunette point to her, but she doesn’t look away from me as she speaks. We’re in our own fucking world.
“I’m Lizzie.”
Without prompting, I say, “Dan. Dan.” She grins and it’s as if all the stadium lights on a Friday night blaze to life.
“Hi, Dan Dan. That’s funny, you know.” Her face pales a bit, as if she’s worried she’s made fun of me.
“No, it’s cool. Actually, everyone just calls me Dan.”
She looks down and then back up, and her long-ass eyelashes reveal her seriously stunning sea glass green eyes again. “I’m Lizzie Fox.” She shakes her head because she’s introduced herself twice, and I want to snap her up on my lap. Flustered Lizzie Fox is fucking hot.
“Dan Dan, Lizzie and Lizzie Fox?” I say.
She laughs. “Let’s just go with Lizzie and Danny.”
My stomach bottoms out as she chooses a name for me. Dan’s the nickname everyone uses at school. I say, “Danny’s good.” I’ve never been Danny, but I can be Danny to her. Fuck, she’s beautiful. She’s hitting all the spots in my brain. And in my crotch.
Tony and Makenzie start catcalling, and it pulls our attention from each other. Tony raises his umbrella, but this time he points his long and annoying fake sword towards Lizzie, then over to me.
“Consider this union blessed by the king. Go forth, Knight Danson and fair maiden…”
Makenzie fills in for him, “The Lady Fox.”
Lizzie protests, “Why does he get to be a knight and I have to be a fair maiden?”
The room looks at her. She shies away for a second, then the tall girl sitting next to her nudges her and whispers in her ear.
Her face is blooming red, but she says, “Why can’t I be a knight?” It’s flush with pink now and she’s even more beautiful the more flustered she gets.
He bows to her, and her friend pushes her up. Lizzie curtseys. Then he nods and she kneels. He places his umbrella on each shoulder.
“Arise, fair knight, and go forth and make knightlets for me. So I may rule with an attractive army.”
