Straight Till London - Penelope Rivers.pdf

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Straight Till London
Penelope Rivers
Copyright © November 2012, Straight Till London
Cover art by For The Muses Designs © November
2012
ISBN: 978-1-939151-03-2
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events
portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used
fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right
to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any
form.
Sugar and Spice Press
North Carolina, USA
www.sugarnspicepress.com
Prologue
London Hales sat in a chair with a full plate of
food in front of him and felt queasy. It wasn't the
meal that repulsed him―it was lobster bisque with
rich European bread cut in thick slabs that were
smothered in butter. It was his parents, Lucy and
Franco, who were in front of him, talking. His
older sister, Georgia, two years older than he, had
her fists balled over the tablecloth. This was not
unusual.
"You don't understand," eighteen-year-old
Georgia said. "I want to go to San Francisco,
maybe work at an art gallery for a while until I get
my feet underneath me."
There was silence at the table, and London
knew that it was the quiet before the storm. Franco
reached up, wiped his face with a napkin, and
stared down Georgia as if she was something
worse than a toad. Her face paled as she saw his
expression.
"You're going to a university and that's final,"
Franco said.
"Shouldn't it be my choice?" Georgia asked,
pushing her soup away and causing it to slosh onto
the white tablecloth. Their Southern mother gasped
and frowned.
"Just because you're eighteen doesn't mean you
know what's best for you," Franco growled.
"You're stupid. You're incompetent. You could
never make it on your own. Why don't you be more
like your brother, who knows when to hold his
tongue and when to listen?"
Please don't bring me into this.
London was
horrified. He felt like a spectacle beneath their
stares. His whole life he had made a point of
steering clear of his father―of flying under the
radar. His sister knew that, too. That must have
been why she sent him a pitying look before
turning to face their father again.
"Right…Perfect London…" Georgia had tears in
her eyes. "The boy you brainwashed into thinking
he's nothing so that way you could get him to do
whatever you want. Got it. Right."
Heat filled his face. He was half-scared for
himself and half-scared for Georgia. Franco
leaped to his feet and their mother grabbed his
arm, trying to hold him back. Their father had
never hit them before, but then again, he didn't
need to. He kept them under control using his
words alone. Nobody had raised their voice to him
before though. Georgia could be in real trouble.
"I'd like to see you try it, Dad. I really would."
She stole a dark look at their father's tightened,
quivering fists. "Go ahead, Mom. Let him hit me.
See how long it would take me to get child
services over here. I could make them take
London."
"Georgia―" Lucy began.
"How dare you speak to me like that, young
lady! I should put you over my knee and tan your
hide like my father used to do to me!" Franco
glared at her. "Go upstairs to your room before I
do something I'll regret."
With an angry expression, Georgia whipped
around, her waist-length, golden hair landing in
some soup, and stormed to the exit of the dining
room. At the threshold, she turned to glare at their
father, and London thought it was amazing how she

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