Read Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) for Free Online Page B

arm as she gazed adoringly into my eyes. “Of course, darling. Whatever you say.”
    I had to give it to her. She really was a good actress.
     

     
    “WELCOME TO LYONS Place,” said Mrs. Smythe with a flourish as she led me back to her office.
    I gazed around at the orphanage, taking in the freshly painted walls in the foyer and the staff who milled around. I got a good vibe from the place, and it put a spring in my step. For once, I was doing something I wanted, not something Harry Goldberg, my new Hollywood agent, had recommended. He was all about the social aspect of my career—especially Blair—and that was essential, but I also wanted to do something that was just for me. Something relevant.
    A wiry janitorial lady loaded down with cleaning supplies and pushing a mop bucket stopped me for my autograph. She fumbled around in the pockets of her uniform and pulled out a piece of notepaper. Her hands shook. “Sebastian Tate! Good God, my daughter will go nuts when she sees this. Thank you!” She beamed at me.
    I signed it and handed it back. “No problem. Anytime.” Feeling nostalgic, I leaned in and gave her a quick hug. Truth was she kinda reminded me of my own mom, Rachel, who’d died fifteen years ago. She’d been a hardworking lady too, spending her days at a local LA diner to contribute to the family. Dad had been a musician, and her extra tip money had come in handy.
    The cleaning lady left whistling, and I followed Mrs. Smythe into her office and sat down in a leather chair. Petite and fiftyish, she sent me a cool businesslike smile. I got the impression she wasn’t impressed with my star power. “Well. I was shocked to get your email and then your persistent phone messages about your interest here. It’s not everyday we get requests from celebrities offering their services. Money, yes, but not their actual time, Mr. Tate—”
    I sent her my best charming smile. “Call me Sebastian, please.”
    “Okay,” she said on a blush and then cleared her throat. “To tell you about us, we’re a new facility focused on the arts with a heavy emphasis on music. We house a hundred kids here, with plans to develop it further in the future.”
    I nodded. I’d read up on the place on the internet after I’d seen the sign going up one day on my way to the music studio. Black and gold, the signage had caught my eye because of the lion on it. He was standing on his hind legs and roaring—just like a family crest. I’d had a thing for lions since my sister-in-law Nora called me one. Long story short, she tended to match people up with animals. A lot. For example, my brother, Leo, was a tiger, Mila was a bunny, and I was the lion of the family because of my great hair and general awesomeness. I was the king of the jungle—or at least the king of Hollywood. Anyway, it was my family nickname. I even had a tribal lion tattooed across my shoulder and down my back.
    She continued. “Our students—orphans—are teens. Most are from poverty backgrounds and face underlying emotional issues such as ADHD or Autism. Some even have past drug problems. Some are recently orphaned and others have been in the system since birth. I guess what I’m trying to say is each child is different and hand selected by our board of directors and benefactor, who prefers to remain anonymous.” She sighed and tapped a pen on her desk. “To be honest, I am still trying to figure out what to do with you. Is there a particular reason you chose us?”
    I’d gripped the chair while she talked, my past pricking at my heart. Sure the sign had captured my attention, but there was also a piece of me that remembered my own gangster neighborhood and how I’d lost my parents. That was the part of me that wanted to give back and be part of this community. I wanted roots here, and what better way than investing myself.
    “Lots of reasons. I’m an LA boy at heart … I grew up here. When I was eight, I lost my parents to a junkie who shot them in a