Sins for Cigarettes Read online

  Copyright © 2022 by Genicious

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior consent of the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial use permitted by copyright law. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is coincidental. Genicious asserts the moral rights to be identified as the author of this work.

  E-book ISBN: 978-0-6450108-9-3

  Editing by Karen Dale Harris

  Cover by Genicious

  Instagram: geniciousfox

  Website: https://genicious.com

  For my 10-year-old self who always dreamed of writing a novel: you did it

  CONTENT WARNINGS

  Sexually explicit scenes

  Mentions of suicide

  Mentions of sexual abuse

  Mentions of violence

  This book is intended for mature audiences.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  1. Summer

  2. The Nutcracker

  3. Sins for Cigarettes

  4. Cheeky Bastard

  5. The Drive

  6. Domino Effect

  7. Thunderstorm

  8. Addiction

  9. One Step at a Time

  10. Just a Game?

  11. High On Her

  12. Are You Wet Now?

  13. Come Undone

  14. The Treehouse

  15. Wilder

  16. Final Preparations

  17. The Date

  18. The Plunge

  19. The Fundraiser

  20. Undressing the Truth

  21. Collateral Damage

  22. The Downfall

  23. Aftermath

  24. Dreams Against Reality

  25. Admission

  26. Pivotal Moment

  27. I Choose You

  28. Are You Game?

  29. The Dark Past

  30. Bound by Hurt

  31. That Night

  32. Tell Me Everything

  33. The Auditions

  34. Only Temporary

  35. Rock Bottom

  36. Is This Goodbye?

  37. Chasing Memories

  38. Closure

  39. Hello Boston

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Also by Genicious

  PROLOGUE

  THE PAST

  Savannah

  A wild scream sliced midair.

  I wasn’t sure if anyone heard it or if it echoed inside my head, but the longer I tumbled, the more I began to accept my fate. It was like in the movies, where reality became too surreal and events decelerated time.

  The slow-mo effect, they called it—only activated when we fear for our lives.

  Everything magnified and grew sharply defined. My limbs fought the air. Icy rain struck, each drop like a silent bullet piercing my skin.

  The sky was ominous, and then like a river of electricity, the lightning stroke. Vivid veins scattered through the blackness, and explosive thunder followed.

  My ears bellowed in pain.

  I’d never thought about how I’d devote the last seconds of my life. All the things I wished I’d accomplished spiraled through me, taunting me.

  I didn’t have a major bucket list, but there were a few goals I’d like to have achieved. I wasn’t sure why it was then that I thought about whether I was truly happy.

  My body crumpled when it struck the black water. It almost seemed like the pits of hell, and my head snapped back… or forward. Splitting pain exploded, and then numbness overtook.

  Shock?

  Death?

  Whatever it was, I was confident that I’d never felt more at peace.

  Cold water engulfed me, and I invited it. But the serenity didn’t last long. It was ripped away as quickly as it came, and I felt everything.

  Fire in my lungs, my body convulsing with pain. This had to be hell.

  In the distance a familiar voice called my name, but I couldn’t pinpoint from where or how to reach it. It was as though I’d drifted into a different time realm. As much as I tried, I couldn’t open my eyes or persuade my limbs to move.

  All I could do was focus on the voice that frantically searched for me. It was the vibrant sound that, under normal circumstances, brought me elation, but now it pushed me to wonder how the preceding events brought me here.

  1

  SUMMER

  Savannah

  I salvaged a filthy book from the mess on the floor. The attic was jam-packed with things I hadn’t seen in years—my dad’s old golf gear, board games, bags and bags of my baby clothes that I doubted either of my parents knew were here.

  Blowing dust off the book, I skated my fingers over the rough leather cover before flipping it open. The pages, slightly yellowed and creased, had a distinct smell. A sweet and musky odor that wafted and lingered.

  The handwriting was cursive, neatly scribed on the page in black ink. It seemed like it’d gotten wet, and the ink ran down the pages, smudged every second or third line.

  The first entry began with the usual Dear Diary. I skimmed the first paragraph. Was this a vintage journal that my mother had bought through an antiques dealer? She’d gone through a stage of hoarding vintage journals. I didn’t realize it was a thing until I’d seen how high some were priced.

  They ranged from a few dollars if written by someone trivial, to a few thousand dollars if scribed by someone like Isadora Duncan—a famous dancer born in the 19th century. Although the one’s composed by men were worth a lot more.

  Pure patriarchal bullshit.

  Short on time, I tucked the diary under my arm, interested in delving into it later, and scanned for what I came up here for. My suitcase.

  Maya would arrive soon, and I still hadn’t packed for the vacation. I’d selected my outfits, flinging them around my room in overflowing piles. I doubted they’d all fit in the suitcase, so I’d have to unwillingly compromise.

  Finally, my gaze caught the edge of the suitcase toward the back, screened by another layer of dust. I smiled to myself as I hauled it out, tripping over a box in the process and cursing underneath my breath.

  In a few short hours, I’d be curling my toes in the sand and inhaling salty air.

  “Hurry!” I instructed Maya as I dragged my suitcase down the front steps.

  “Remind me what you did again to get grounded for the summer break?” Ringlets of her dark hair clung to her forehead. Southern California was having a heat wave.

  I huffed. I wouldn’t call it grounded, merely a slight inconvenience that wouldn’t stop me from going on this trip. How much trouble could a nineteen-year-old get into from her parents?

  However unfair it might seem, my parents were adamant that so long as I lived under their roof, I had to abide by their rules, which, in reality, were ridiculous and outdated.

  “I merely pointed out during an important dinner meeting at our house, that Henry Bowers was gawking at my boobs. It cost my father a multimillion-dollar deal.”

  One out of many. My father could and would survive. I suspected it wouldn’t even matter at the end of the year once all his other figures piled in. He owned a shit ton of investment companies and properties all over the US. He worked hard for his money—a businessman from an early age.

  Of course, the inheritance f
rom his grandparents had helped tremendously, but it wasn’t the only factor. Brains, determination and tenacity were the driving force of everything in the Elswood family.

  It wasn’t my father who was angry at me about the dinner. I bet he’d be proud of me for sticking up for myself if it weren’t for my mother. She was adamant that I was overreacting and imagining things. She always believed in keeping up appearances and avoiding scenes, especially in front of the country’s wealthiest people.

  Sometimes I swore she believed we lived in the 1950s. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d allow some bastard, who was old enough to be my father, to ogle me. Henry Bowers deserved to be called out, and I wasn’t sorry that it had been by me.

  “Hudson, stay.” I signaled with my forefinger at my five-year-old Alaskan malamute. He sank down inside the open front door and didn’t blink. “Good boy.”

  My parents had brought Hudson home when I started high school to educate me on responsibilities, and he’d ended up being the best company I could’ve asked for.

  “Don’t look at me like. I’ll be back in no time.” I eased the front door shut, leaving the puppy-dog eyes behind.

  “Your temper always gets you in trouble. You don’t lose it often but when it snaps, watch out.” Maya lugged her suitcase out of dense rose bushes like this was a strategic escape from Guantanamo Bay.

  Close enough.

  I couldn’t help myself. Perhaps I’d inherited the trait from my father. He was outspoken and assertive, unless it involved my mother.

  Speak of the devil.

  “Get back here, Savannah Marlene Elswood!” my mother yelled from the second-floor balcony.

  I glanced up to meet her glare. With her hands clenching the railing and the remainder of her draping over it, I feared she’d come tumbling down at any moment.

  I took my time lugging my suitcase into the trunk of my father’s favorite car. I knew for a fact that my mother wouldn’t risk running down the stairs and ruining her perfect makeup and hair. She had a dozen meetings scheduled with important clients today. We all have priorities, right?

  “I’ll see you in a week, Mom. Tell Dad I’m sorry about his deal and thanks for letting me use his prized possession.” I tapped the hood of the car. “Tell him to consider it an end-of-my-first-year-of-college gift.”

  About three times the size of my Mercedes coupe, the bullet-gray G-Wagon towered above me and would comfortably fit everyone’s luggage.

  “Savannah! You cannot do this. Absolutely not! Your father will be furious once he notices his car is gone!”

  If he notices. He was rarely around.

  I knew the exact look on her face even without seeing it. Her eyes narrowed, straining to crease her forehead. But of course she couldn’t from the Botox she injected every couple of months.

  “Bye, Mom.” I climbed behind the wheel. Damn the consequences. I’d deal with my parents after I was back.

  “Bye, Mrs. Elswood!” Maya chimed in.

  I slammed my foot on the gas, and the G-Wagon surged to life. With the roof off, I extended one hand above my head. Blonde hair blew in my face and obscured my vision. I bumped over the curve, whooping in relief while the breeze skated along my skin and urged me to enjoy the wild escapade.

  I’d envisaged this trip all year—long summer nights, the beach, and good company.

  A whole year of studying pre-law and struggling to attend my dance classes had drained me. Yet, my mother kept pushing me to get an internship at a law firm during the summer break.

  I had other plans.

  I connected my phone to the car Bluetooth, flicking the volume all the way. Maya grinned, her full lips moving in time to the lyrics.

  We’d only known each other for two years. Her parents had relocated from Australia to California after her father secured a deal with a major finance company. We’d linked up through our parents, but friendship had bloomed as soon as Maya opened her mouth.

  We’d met at a fundraiser with a guest-list of high profile businesspeople, when she’d enlightened me that my ass looked like I’d fallen in a pile of shit and then proceeded to drag me to the bathroom to clean me up. We’d tried to eliminate the chocolate stain with baby wipes, but by the time Maya gave up on scouring my ass, it’d appeared a hundred times worse. At that point, even the dry cleaners wouldn’t have been able to save my custom-made designer silk dress.

  Even though the event had just started, I’d refused to go back out. I wasn’t about to embarrass myself in front of everyone. So, Maya had rummaged through her bag until eventually she’d plucked out a half-sucked, crumpled joint that’d seen better days. A powder-blue lighter followed.

  “Are you insane?” My head had swung toward the door where anyone could barge in at any given moment, including one of our mothers.

  Maya didn’t bat an eyelid at my protest. She rose, walked to the door, and locked it.

  We’d been friends ever since.

  Now, with her in the front seat beside be, I veered onto a long, winding road to pick up Jake and then Maya’s friend Corina before we began our three-hour drive.

  “We’re going to Malibu, not Hawaii.” I grinned at Jake as he appeared in his driveway, wearing a fire-engine red shirt patterned with colorful exotic flowers.

  He flicked me the middle finger and offered a fake smile in return that scrunched his entire face. Jake had been my best friend since sixth grade. At this point, I considered him family. Better than family. A brother from another mother as he liked to say.

  “Oh, cheer up.” My grin widened. “This is going to be the best week of your life.”

  “Find me a sexy guy with a big dick, and then we’ll talk.” He ruffled a hand through his bedhead hair.

  Jake was worried that spending the next week with straight people meant he’d have a tough time getting laid. His words, not mine. I’d reminded him that we were going to the beach and not the moon. He was bound to find someone who tickled his fancy, especially at the clubs and bars.

  Next, we stopped at Corina’s house. Corina danced in the same dance academy as me, but she studied things like hip-hop and jazz, not ballet. We didn’t run into each other much and weren’t close. It was Maya who’d invited her after they’d bonded at another charity event, only a few months ago.

  “Since I got the car…” I hopped out of the driver’s seat.

  “And I got the booze,” Maya chimed as she scrambled into the back to beat Jake to a seat, flashing her hot-pink G-string in the process.

  “And I don’t have my license,” Jake said, grasping where this conversation was headed.

  “You’re driving, Corina,” I finished, dangling the keys.

  “Hey! That’s not fair,” Corina said, pouting. She gave a flip of her dark curls back from her generous chest.

  “Life wasn’t made to be fair, babe,” Jake said, sliding in beside me with a smug look after shooing Maya back to the front passenger seat.

  By the time we swerved into the driveway of the beach house, we’d polished off a bottle of Midori between Maya, Jake, and me. Well, mostly Jake. As the culprit who’d downed the most, he toppled toward me when we took the turn, thrashing his hands above his head in the backseat. “It’s summertime, baby!”

  I was glad he was having fun. But if he didn’t slow down on the booze, he’d soon be in the bathroom, head plunged in the toilet, retching.

  I stole the bottle from him, and he scowled like I’d done the unthinkable. He quickly forgot as the tires screeched to a halt. I grasped Jake’s legs so he didn’t smack his face on the seat in front of him. Corina wasn’t exactly a smooth driver.

  “If my father saw the way you parked the car, he’d have a heart attack,” I said.

  “Maybe he should teach me.” She winked, biting her lower lip.

  “Gross!” Jake and I exclaimed simultaneously.

  “Corina has a thing for older men,” Maya explained. “She’s been sleeping with a fifty-something-year-old teacher.”

  Igno
ring that revelation about her, I studied the three-story villa that we’d be occupying for the next week. This was the only house the group of us could agree on. Of course, it came with a hefty price tag. Jake had saved his tips from his parents’ restaurant all year to pay for his share.

  His family were far from poor, but they didn’t throw money around. They believed success required sacrifice and hard work. So they hammered away every day at their Italian trattoria, arriving home well after the last customer left. And they hammered away at Jake about how he needed to understand every aspect of the business, since someday he’d be running the place.

  I liked them a lot, and Jake loved them. But I knew he was as happy to escape to this beach house as I was.

  Behind the screen of tropical palm trees fencing the front, the ash-white exterior slanted toward the sun as though pursuing its warmth. Salty brine laced the air, and I imagined the panoramic arched windows that I knew faced the ocean at the back. My toes curled at the thought of days on the private beach. Seclusion was another bonus and would allow us all to be as noisy as we liked.