Much Ado About Something Read online

  Table of Contents

  The Beginning

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Much Ado

  About Something

  Michelle Ray

  Also by Michelle Ray

  Falling for Hamlet

  Mac/Beth

  MUCH ADO ABOUT SOMETHING

  Copyright © 2016, Michelle Ray

  All Rights Reserved.

  To Jason O’Connell, whose portrayal of Benedick at the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival made me see the character in a new way.

  And to my Harvard/Westlake friends and teachers who provided the positive high school memories I drew upon.

  I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will.

  — William Shakespeare

  Love is a battlefield.

  — Pat Benatar

  Scandal Rocks Messina Prep

  BEVERLY HILLS, CA— Expulsion hearings are underway for a group of male students at the exclusive Messina Preparatory School after an incident at a school dance led to a suicide. Among these students is Ben Richardson, son of renowned actor Lance Richardson.

  Dave Robertson, Messina Prep’s headmaster, said in a public statement that the matter is being handled internally. However, due to the nature of the offense and the death that followed, the police are likely to become involved. An anonymous source confirmed that the LAPD has been made aware of the incident.

  Ben Richardson I want everyone to stop calling and texting. Everyone.

  Beatriz Garcia Rojas Ben, if you see this, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.

  Antonio Garcia Rojas The next person who touches or insults my sister is dead.

  Clay Chen Haven’t we had enough death?

  1

  Three months earlier

  Beatriz Garcia Rojas I want to know why the soccer team gets a luxury coach liner while the swim team drives themselves to meets.

  Beatriz

  When I was little, things made sense. Bad kids got in trouble. Smart people got good grades. Boys were gross. Girls could play pretend. Friends were there for you when you needed them. Parents knew what was best. Logic was possible.

  I think I adjusted to the new order of life with a certain amount of grace. I accepted injustice. I liked boys fine and dated a bit. I thought about college rather than Barbies. I accepted that at parties, there was more likely to be beer than cake, though I really missed the cake. And as for parents and friends, well, I knew they sometimes let you down.

  But nothing prepared me for the chain of events that started one random Friday after a soccer game in September.

  • • •

  “Looking for Clay?” I asked my cousin Hope.

  “Who?” asked innocently.

  “The guy you’ve been staring at all week.”

  “Oh, him.” Hope blushed.

  If it were anyone else, I would have laughed, but Hope was sensitive. And she’d been through a lot.

  I changed the subject. “You made it to the end of your first week at Messina. What do you think?”

  “It’s intense. Having you and Antonio here has made it a lot easier.”

  “Who’d a thought the three Garcia cousins would end up in the same city, let alone the same school?”

  She didn’t respond, and I followed her gaze, which had drifted back to the crowd. No Clay so far. Figuring she’d hang back forever if given a choice, I pulled her by the hand. “Come on, Cinderella, let’s go see if your prince has a second to spare.”

  “Cinderella?” she asked as we walked. “That girl was messed up. Talking to those birds and mice? If I saw a mouse hanging out in my room I’d smash it.”

  I laughed.

  We weaved between parked cars, and after a few steps, she asked hesitantly, “You never dated Clay, right?”

  “No. I was too busy being stupid over a certain someone not worthy of my time.”

  Certain Someone alert: I spotted Ben and grabbed him by the arm.

  He spun to me and a smile cracked across his face. Covering my hand with his own and pressing it hard against his bicep (a dizzyingly awesome bicep, by the way), he said, “I knew you couldn’t resist my charms forever.”

  I yanked my hand away. “When your charms show up, let me know and I’ll see if I can resist them.”

  He put his hand over his heart like he’d been shot.

  I ignored this. “Student council went fine today, in case you were wondering,” I said. “You do remember you’re co-President?”

  “I remember.”

  “Funny. Cuz I don’t remember you being at a single meeting since club pictures were taken for the yearbook. Very convenient.”

  “The picture would have suffered without me in it,” he said, framing his irritatingly gorgeous face with his hands. Then he dropped them and said, “I had a game.”

  “If you can’t make time for us, maybe you should quit.”

  “B, that might make you happy, but I think our class would be disappointed. They did elect me.”

  “Us. They elected us. And you’re usually pretty quick to run from commitment. It surprises me that you’re following through with this.”

  Amusement drained from his eyes and I felt a little kick in my stomach. I liked attacking Ben, but sometimes, when I knew I’d hurt him — the very thing I’d set out to do — I felt kind of bad.

  Kind of.

  He asked flatly, “What do you want, B?”

  “Do you know where Clay is?”

  “Just went to the locker room.” Then he took a beat and a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Care to join? I bet Clay wouldn’t mind. And you might like all those sweaty guys showering and—”

  “Ew!” I interjected.

  “Right. I forgot who I was talking to.”

  He gave a knowing smirk and I swatted at him, caught between irritation and understanding. This was the game we’d been playing for so long, but sometimes I just wanted a straight answer. And I didn’t like his constant jokes about my prudishness.

  “Why don’t you go shower, Ben?” I said. “You stink. And you might like being with all those guys, sweaty and—”

  “That’s below the belt, Missy.”

  “At least something is.”

  “Oooh!” he shouted, and a few kids around us joined in. “If you change your mind, B, you know where to find me.” Then he winked (yes, even his baby blues were dang perfect, as if the rest weren’t enough!).

  Ben trotted off laughing just as my uncle, Leonardo, approached and kissed Hope on the cheek. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

  Hope mumbled that it was fine and Leonardo fidgeted uncomfortably.

  To break the awkwardness, I pretended for a second to care about sports. “How was the game?”

  “Great,” he said, looking relieved to have something to talk about.

  Knowing kids around us were still listening, I flipped my hair and lifted my chin to give myself a greater air of superiority. “So, how many points did dear Benjamin score? I promised to do a shot for every goal he made. I bet I’ll be going home sober this evening.”

  Leonardo’s face fell. “You’d better be joking about drinking.”

  “Of course I am, Tío Leo,” I said, pinching his cheeks. “You know I don’t drink.” />
  My uncle backed away, eyeing me. “You joke, but Ben scored almost as many goals as your brother. They make an incredible team. You should see them play.”

  I rolled my eyes. Ben and sports in one place? Forget it.

  “I’ll see you back home, okay sweetheart?” my uncle said to Hope, but all she did was wince.

  After her father left, Hope turned to me. “You’re too hard on Ben.”

  I shrugged, not really agreeing. The same could be said about how she was acting toward her dad, but I didn’t say that. See? I’m not always difficult. No matter what Ben might tell you.

  Hope asked, “Have you seen Ben in action? My dad says he passes well.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of his passes,” I said suggestively.

  “I meant he’s a good player.”

  I said with exaggerated innocence, “I know he’s a player, but how is he on the field?”

  “Go easy on him,” reprimanded Hope.

  “I’m not easy at all, which is why we broke up.” Hurt had crept into my voice, so I stopped. It wasn’t good for me to rehash the past, and not good for my image for people to see me bitter. Witty, sure, and wicked sometimes, but bitter meant Ben had won. And I wouldn’t allow that.

  “You broke up a year ago, B,” Hope reminded me, smoothing her long auburn hair before looking anxiously back at the door to see if anyone from the team had come out. “Isn’t it time to let it go?”

  I felt my cheeks go hot. “If he weren’t still a jerk I might, and if he weren’t always around maybe I could. He’s with me on student council. Yearbook. Physics. Spanish class. The nightmare never ends.” I swung my key chain around my index finger, the rhythm soothing me, and mused, “The fact is I do better in most classes than he does. He can’t keep up with me, so he seeks dumber pastures. Every month he’s with a new girl and not one of them is worth his time.”

  “You keep track of what he does?” asked Hope, not even trying to hide her amusement.

  I glared at Hope. Really? Was this helping? “It’s impossible to ignore when he’s always parading some little thing or other through the school and the yearbook room.”

  Hope broke in with, “Think you and Ben will ever get back together?”

  “When pigs fly,” I snapped.

  I took a deep breath. Enough mulling over the past. Enough avoiding. I caught my keys in my palm and walked Hope toward my uncle and the re-emerging team. Clay came out of the gym door, followed by Ben.

  “Hey boys,” said my uncle. “You remember Hope?”

  “Your daughter, right?” Clay asked, as his cheeks turned noticeably pink.

  “According to her mother.”

  “You were worried enough to ask?” joked Ben.

  “No, Richardson. You were just a baby, so I didn’t have to worry about you back then.”

  The crowd laughed and Leonardo told them all to have a safe weekend before he went to lock up.

  “Daaaamn,” said Clay. “Even Coach knows enough about your reputation.”

  “Who doesn’t?” I asked with raised eyebrows. Ben blew me a kiss, which I pretended to block and knock away.

  Clay turned to Hope and said, “You look just like your father, but with lighter hair.”

  “Poor thing,” I teased.

  “Shut up, B,” Clay said, elbowing me. “She’s beautiful.”

  Hope blushed and looked at the ground, but inched closer to Clay. Clay, in turn, blushed himself and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  I smiled. It was sweet. Seeing people flirting sometimes made me want to puke, but this was different because: A) my cousin and Clay were actually cute together, and B) they were both people I liked, so it was okay. More than okay. I said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t let her down. She needed a little happiness.

  “So,” Hope asked, blinking up at him. (This was a girl skill I wished I had.) “How’d the game go?”

  Clay launched into a detailed play by play that did not interest me in the least, so I took a few steps away to give them privacy.

  Unfortunately, Ben decided to talk. “Beatriz,” he said, exaggerating the Z. He never used that name for me except to be rude, since he knew I didn’t much like it. “All the girls love me except you. Why is that?”

  I sighed indifferently. “Ben, I don’t want to talk about other girls.”

  “Trouble is,” he said, ignoring me, “I don’t love any of them back.”

  “They should count their blessings, because you are a disastrous boyfriend.”

  “They’re not all looking for boyfriends,” he said, winking at me.

  I crossed my arms. “Then that works out well for you, doesn’t it?” I said, trying to keep the rawness out of my voice. How did he manage to get to me every time? Every. Time. I straightened up and returned to imperiousness. “As for me, at this point I don’t want anyone. I just want to focus on getting into college and starting fresh with men rather than boys.”

  “I hope you keep your word on that, or else some poor sucker’s gonna end up with blue balls and a scratched face.”

  That was the last straw. “Go to hell,” I said, turning away.

  “You’re a rare bird, B.”

  I spun back around, nearly blinded with anger. There was teasing and there was going too far. Putting our issues out there for people to hear was going too far. “I’d rather be a bird than some simpering puppy chasing after you all day like those girls,” I said, flicking my thumb over my shoulder at the huddle of giggling freshman girls staring at us.

  “I wish my dog ran as fast as your mouth.”

  “Screw you,” I said before grabbing a reluctant Hope away from Clay and peeling out of the driveway.

  Can you believe I ever liked that guy?

  Ben Richardson A victory isn’t as sweet when some people refuse to be.

  Ben

  Now I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, that Ben is a total dick.” But she started it. I bet in her version of the story, she left out the part where the second I walked out of the locker room, she looked at me like I was a piece of dirt. And she probably made some crack about me being with lots of girls, right? Not that I’m going to dispute that I’m good with girls. I am. I like them. A lot. But hooking up is not all I’m about. And what I did when she and I were dating — Okay, it was inexcusable, but it was also a long time ago. And since then, B and I had been forced to spend so much time together, and sometimes she was just difficult and I didn’t want to be nice. But again, it wasn’t all my fault.

  To prove my point, let me tell you what Clay said the second she left: “B sure has a temper.” Not, “Ben, you’re a dick,” which he would have if it was my fault because Clay is honest. Sometimes too honest.

  At that moment, B’s car screeched away and the sound seemed pretty fitting.

  Clay added, “Maybe now that Hope is around, she’ll mellow out.”

  See? No, there are two sides to everything, my friends. Two sides. And my side, in case you want to cozy up to one of us, is less thorny.

  Now that I have your attention, I’ll tell you a couple things to balance out whatever information B might have given about me. I like to laugh. I love the weekends. I enjoy not knowing what’s gonna happen next. And having a famous actor for a father and a high-powered agent for a mom, I’ve learned a few important things: 1) Have fun because fame and popularity won’t last forever. 2) You are your image. 3) Don’t do dumb stuff on camera.

  If some people had considered #2 and #3 right around this time, I probably wouldn’t have been in the mess that I ended up in, but I really don’t want to talk about that right now.

  As I was standing there completely irritated by yet another Ben vs. Beatriz match, John Crotalus and Bryce Krunk, the biggest jerks both on the team and in the school brushed past us. Normally I would have ignored them, but John slammed into me and pretended it was an accident.

  “Throwing elbows like you do on the field?” I asked.

  “At least I’m more accurate with my hi
ts than you are with your kicks,” John said.

  “That’s bull. I scored, which is more than you can say.” When John sneered, I continued, “Hard to help your team when you’re red carded for roughness.”

  “At least I’m man enough to get rough. See you girls around.” And with that he threw his BMW keys to Bryce and they drove off.

  I was seething when Peter trotted up and said, “Guys, my folks are in Venice for the week, so we’re good for a party tonight. Come early and help me set up.” Then he rubbed my head and Clay’s as he ran to his car, something Peter knew we both hated. Which made him do it more.

  Clay smoothed his floppy black hair quickly, but I took more time to mold and sculpt my dark strands into their intentional messiness. A girl off to my side was staring and I swear to God she swooned a little. How frickin’ awesome is that?

  “You’re giving me a ride, right?” Clay asked.

  I nodded and we started to go.

  “Ben, what do you think of Hope?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t really notice.” It was true. My total focus was on B being a pain. She was like my kryptonite. I lost my power to check out girls when she was around.

  “I think Hope’s hot,” Clay admitted.

  I stopped to consider it, trying to remember her face and body.

  Clay blanched at the smile creeping onto my face as I began to recall Hope’s amazing cheekbones and all the rest that came in the package.

  He said quickly, “But if she’s like B, she’s probably not your type.”

  That was enough to snap me out of my fantasy. “B wouldn’t let me get near her cousin anyway. Not if I want to keep all my limbs.”

  “So . . . I’m not crazy? About Hope.”

  “Why do you care what I think?”

  “You’re a better judge of girls.”

  I grimaced, thinking about the chat I’d just had with B. Sometimes our fights were annoying. Sometimes they were funny. But it was getting old. Why were things always so crappy between us? It had been great once but then—