Urban Legends

By Daisy Jordan

One night at a dive bar in the East Village, best friends Jansen, Jason, Hersh, and Clint create a secret society. One with a fake past full of murders, ghosts, and family secrets. A joke, meant to freak out their school friends, who will no doubt fall for it.

Because in the single-sex private schools of Manhattan’s über-wealthy Upper East Side, where GPAs and coke highs are through the roof, last night’s mind-numbing party is this morning’s eyeroll-inducingly exaggerated story, and relationships burn out faster than the cigarette between your fingers, induction to a secret society feels like a natural rite of passage.

The eerie notes left in Jansen’s, Jason’s, Hersh’s, and Clint’s bedrooms are the first clue their joke has hit too close to a very real, and very hidden, history of Manhattan. In a secret room only blocks from their penthouses, the mystery, one that began with long-dead twins named Anabelle and Jonathan, starts to unravel.

And after a cab chase, fruitless attempts at an impossible-to-crack code, and the offhand discovery of a book stacked on a desk in a backwater South Carolina bedroom comes the chilling realization their “joke” has also hit too close to home. Because as it turns out, murders, ghosts, and family secrets are the hidden history of their own parents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daisy Jordan
• Release date: Jan 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463075883

Daisy Jordan

I am a YA and adult fiction author currently living in Fort Myers, Florida. My books include YA and general fiction, mostly about relationships and everyday life, with some extra plot twists thrown in for fun! My characters reappear from one novel to the next, and even when they're not main characters in the current book, you can still get updates on their lives. I love writing because I get to capture emotions people feel in everyday life and play with my readers' emotions! ;) I write characters people can relate to, and I almost always end a book with a cliffhanger to keep my readers coming back. Plus, life is always better with a little suspense! ;)

Book preview

part 1

fortune

"fortune, the great commandress of the world,

hath divers ways to advance her followers"

~george chapman, all fools

chapter 1

Jansen Montgomery first got into a bar on her fourteenth birthday.

It was a dive bar in the East Village called Red Sulfur. She and her friends hadn’t planned on going to a bar. They had been wandering aimlessly away from the West Village, looking for anything to do that sparked their interest in the moment. The East Village appealed to them because it lacked glamour and had a reputation as a more dangerous area.

It was almost completely dark when Jansen, Hersh, Jason, and Clint looked across the street and saw the black awning with the words RED SULFUR shining through in an orangish-red print similar to the color of blood. It reminded Jansen of someplace out of a low-budget horror movie.

Hey, I bet we can get in that place, Clint said. The four of them exchanged excited, mischievous grins and knew they had to try.

The doorman, an old, friendly man whose work shirt bore a cursive inscription reading Claudio, gave them only a brief look-over before letting them in.

Jansen held hands with Hersh, whose real name was Corbin Hershey but whom all his friends had called Hersh since they could talk, flashed a flirtatious smile at Claudio, and walked down eight steps into the smoke-filled room. She briefly raised her right hand, the one not in Hersh’s, and grinned at the huge sapphire-look-alike ring on her middle finger.

A forty-something female bartender with short red and purple hair came to their table as soon as they sat down. Whadda y’all want? she asked with a bright smile.

Jansen liked her immediately. She embodied everything Jansen loved about the East Village. She seemed rebellious, and she was a far cry from anybody Jansen’s parents would hang out with, even though she was probably about their age.

It’s her birthday, Hersh said, locking his arm around Jansen.

I won’t ask how old you are, the bartender said. So whaddaya want?

Jansen, Jason, and Clint darted looks at each other, but Hersh totally kept his cool.

We’ll have shots of Patrón, he said. And then Jack to wash it down.

Coming up, the bartender said and spun away.

Jansen looked around. Even though the air was potent with smoke, there weren’t really that many people. Only four other booths were occupied. The room was long and narrow. The booths lined the wall opposite the bar, and there were a few tables in back. The floor was a dark shade of wood and uneven in places. The walls were also a dark wood, and the whole room was lit only by two dim bulbs hanging from the ceiling at either end of the bar. Jansen somehow felt protected and safe here, even though it was so grungy. She wasn’t sure why, but she thought it had something to do with how they’d come down steps right inside the door, and now they were underground.

Happy birthday, honey, the bartender said when she brought their drinks. She plunked the round tray in the middle of the table. There were limes to go with the tequila. What’s your name?

Jansen.

I’m Hersh, Hersh added, reaching out his hand to shake the bartender’s.

She shook his hand and looked to Jason and Clint.

Oh, I’m Jason.

Clint.

I’m Lydia, the bartender said as she turned to go. Let me know if y’all need anything else.

Sure thing, Hersh said as he lifted his shot of Patrón from the tray.

They hit their shot glasses together and tipped their heads back. Jansen made a slight face as hers went down. She grabbed her lime to suck on. This isn’t what we had at your birthday party, she said to Jason. That had been in his parents’ Park Avenue penthouse last fall, the first time she’d tried tequila.

No, Jason said, shaking his head and making a face too.

They smoked and drank their whiskeys and ordered more. When they were on their third, Hersh said to Jason and Clint, So I have coke.

No fuckin’ way! Clint cried. I’ve been wanting to try that for so long!

Jansen laughed a little. She thought Clint tried too hard to act like Hersh sometimes. She figured it would suck to have your best friend mature physically and athletically a lot sooner than you though. And Clint hadn’t had a girlfriend yet either.

Dude, cool, Jason said.

Jansen smiled again, studying Jason while he waited for Hersh to get out the coke. Jason had medium brown hair, which he wore kind of long, almost to his eyes, and tousled. Her favorite part about him was his eyes. They were really dark blue-green and really unique. He was the only person she’d ever seen with that eye color. Her favorite non-physical thing about him was how he never tried to be anything or anyone but himself. He didn’t feel a need to please other people or try to impress them. He was the most real person she knew. Hersh was real too, but sometimes Jansen thought he tried pretty hard to look cool to the older guys at his school. He cared more about his reputation than Jason did.

Hersh looked around to see if any workers were close, then pulled the bag out of his pocket. Lydia had left the drink tray on the table, and he emptied a little onto it, dividing it into four lines with a broken, hollowed-out piece of a pen. Then he put the bag away, looked around again, and offered the pen in the direction of Jason and Clint.

Jason took it. He leaned forward with total confidence, put his head down, balanced the pen between the tray and his nose, and snorted one of the lines. He sniffed as he raised his head, then grinned at them. That was badass. He held the pen out to Jansen questioningly.

I just did some. In the park. I can still feel it. I did some at Hersh’s after school too. Jansen smiled to herself, thinking back to Hersh’s bedroom in his West Village townhouse a few hours ago. He had done a line first, demonstrating for Jansen, and then she had done one. She’d liked the way her nose felt afterward, and she’d liked the immediate rush. The aftertaste in the back of her throat had been unpleasant but overlookable.

Oh, Jason said, raising his eyebrows, excited for her. He handed Clint the pen.

Jansen thought Clint looked nervous, but he did it without hesitation.

Yeah, that was awesome, he agreed, nodding.

I can feel it already, Jason said.

Hersh grinned at both of them, then leaned down to do a line himself. After he did, he looked up at Jansen. You sure? he asked, motioning to the one he’d prepared for her.

I’m sure, Jansen said. She felt wide awake and excited, like she had since her first line at Hersh’s.

Have you done it before tonight? Jason asked her.

No. Hersh surprised me for my birthday.

So you like your present? Hersh asked her now.

Oh yeah. Jansen felt the ring between her fingers. I like it a lot. Hey, will you put some more in my ring? She held out her hand.

Why, you gonna do some later by yourself? Hersh asked.

It goes in your ring? Jason asked, leaning forward curiously.

Yeah, look, the top twists off! Jansen spun the dark blue stone off and held out her hand to Jason to show him. See? Hersh got me this too.

Sweet ass, Jason said.

Jewelry? Clint asked sarcastically. What are you guys, like engaged?

I saw it in a shop on Broadway like a month ago and said I liked it, Jansen snapped defensively. He remembered and went back and got it for me.

Hersh took her hand and funneled some more coke from the bag into the ring. There you go, baby.

Thanks. Jansen spun the blue stone back on, then squeezed her fingers around the band again as she put her hand under the table. She didn’t even know if she would use the coke in the ring, but she liked having it there. It made her feel daring and reckless.

Are you guys bored? Hersh asked.

Jansen looked at him in surprise.

No, I’m having fun, Jason said.

No, Hersh said. I mean like, in life. I feel like we need to shake things up. We just do the same stuff all the time.

Jansen frowned. They were doing something new right now. A couple new things, actually. This night was huge for her, in a really good way. Hersh’s comment made her uneasy. What else could he possibly want?

Shake things up how? Jason asked.

I don’t know. Like something to fuck with our school friends. A practical joke or something.

Now Jansen smiled as relief washed over her. Oooohh, I like that.

What kind of joke? Clint asked.

Something they’d never see coming.

You could pretend you and Jansen broke up and she was back with Jason, Clint said.

Jansen glared at him. He was so annoying sometimes.

Hersh quickly shook his head, blowing off the idea. No. Something better than that. Not just like, a joke that’ll blow over in a day. Like, a project.

I love it, Jansen said, picturing the four of them spending hours here at Red Sulfur, leaning together across the table, laughing hysterically as they schemed up something genius to blow the minds of all their school friends. It was her idea of heaven.

I have an idea, Jason said, and all eyes turned to him.

What? Hersh asked after a moment of dead silence.

A secret society.

∞∞∞∞

When Jansen woke up the next morning she was totally hungover. What the hell was that noise? she moaned into the plush pillow. Whatever had awakened her had left the impression of blaring rock music, which definitely wasn’t her alarm, but was a vaguely familiar sound to wake up to.

It was my alarm, Jason said. He hit her over the head with a pillow.

Jansen squeezed her eyelids together, then finally opened them. Oh, she said when she saw her surroundings. She was in Jason’s bed. She remembered now that she, Jason, and Clint had shared a cab home from that bar, and she had told Jason she needed to stay at his house because she’d told her parents he was having a birthday party for her. They didn’t care when she stayed over at his house or Hersh’s or Clint’s, because Jansen had grown up with all three of the boys and all their parents were friends. The four of them had been having sleepovers since they were five. Her parents would probably care if they knew she went to Hersh’s house alone with him every day after school though, so she didn’t bother telling them about that.

Are the bagels here yet? she asked. The other reason she’d wanted to stay at Jason’s was his parents had fresh bagels delivered every week morning from a bakery.

Jason laughed as he disappeared into his bathroom. I think they’ll be here soon; it’s almost seven, he called back, then shut the door.

Jansen moaned again, then finally pulled herself into a sitting position and out of bed. She desperately wanted a cigarette. She found her purse on the floor and dug in it, pulling out a pack of Parisienne Noires. It was the brand her maid special-ordered for her from Switzerland. She grabbed a lighter off Jason’s nightstand and lit one, inhaling deeply. Then she breathed out, feeling much better already.

When she finished smoking she got out of bed and went over to Jason’s closet. She looked down and saw she was wearing a pair of his shorts and his tiny t-shirt she always wore when she slept over. It said Fifth Av, the name of his school, and the last time he had worn it had been in about fourth grade. Jansen had adopted it in sixth grade, and it was her favorite shirt. It smelled like Jason and his apartment.

She pulled one of her school uniforms out of the closet and left Jason’s bedroom, heading for the guest room next door to shower. She kept a couple uniforms here and at Clint’s and Hersh’s for situations exactly like this.

After her shower she felt slightly more awake and joined Jason and his sixth-grade sister Kella in the breakfast room. Jäger, the black cat Jansen and Jason had adopted from the Humane Society last summer when they’d been slightly drunk after sneaking a nearly empty bottle of her parents’ Jäger, jumped onto the bar. Jansen scratched Jäger’s head, wishing Kella wasn’t here because she was dying to talk to Jason about last night. She squeezed her ring between her fingers and smiled to herself.

Coffee, Miss Jansen? Greta asked. Greta was the Auerbachs’ maid. She was from Switzerland or Sweden or Norway or somewhere, Jansen thought. She was really blonde, anyway, and had a slight accent that Jansen couldn’t quite place. She was in her late twenties.

Yes, please, Jansen said, even though she normally bought her coffee at the coffee shop a couple blocks from her school because it was so much better than homemade. But this morning she needed some right this second.

Greta poured her coffee.

Jansen, how was your birthday?! Was it fun?! Kella asked. She didn’t look much like Jason on first glance; she had hair as blonde as Greta’s and eyes that were almost navy blue, but Jansen thought Kella and Jason actually did look a lot alike if you looked closer. Their faces were shaped similarly, they had the same flawless complexion, and they both had wide eyes with long eyelashes and lips somewhere between thin and full.

Yeah, it was good, Jansen said, looking at Jason. He met her gaze with a tiny smile, then quickly wiped it off his lips.

What’d you do? Kella asked.

Hung out at Hersh’s.

In the Village, Jason added.

I know where Hersh lives! Kella snapped. She looked back to Jansen. "He is sooo hot, she sighed dreamily. You’re so lucky."

Jansen smiled again. Yeah.

After ten more minutes of small talk, during which Jansen could tell Kella was dying to ask more questions about last night, finally breakfast was over, and they left for school. Jason had to walk west four blocks over to Fifth Avenue Prep at 78th and 5th, and Jansen and Kella had to walk south four blocks to Park Avenue Academy at 74th and Park.

Bye, Jason said outside his building, pulling lightly on Jansen’s messy and still-wet dark red ponytail. Have fun at school.

Thanks, you too, Jansen said sarcastically.

Now that it was just the two of them, Kella started back up on the questions about Hersh and last night as she and Jansen walked to school, and Jansen looked to the side and rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore and broke out a cigarette. She normally tried not to smoke in front of Kella, but whatever.

Oh, can I have one?! Kella asked eagerly.

No.

Why not?

It’s bad for you.

But you and Jason and Hersh and Clint all do it.

That doesn’t mean it’s not bad for you.

"Pleeeaaase?"

Jansen was about to say no again when a high-pitched girl’s voice screamed her name from behind.

Jansen!

Jansen sighed and practically threw a cigarette at Kella as she turned around to meet Summer Lindley, her best friend at school.

Hey! Summer cried excitedly, rushing up to give Jansen air kisses on both cheeks. Jansen air-kissed her back halfheartedly, then took another drag on her cigarette. She wanted more coffee. Today was going to be hell, dealing with her school friends. She just wanted to be back at Red Sulfur with Hersh.

Hey! cried the two other girls with Summer, Taylan and Tierney Barclay. They were twins and Jansen’s other best friends at school. She called them her best friends at school because her real best friends were Hersh, Jason, and Clint. These girls were fine to hang out with during the day, but they annoyed her a lot because they were so much like all the adults on the Upper East Side, caught up in being fabulous and showing off their loads of money.

Suddenly Jansen remembered Jason’s idea about a secret society, and she smiled as she thought of how readily these girls would fall for it. They would throw themselves at it like it was the coolest thing that had ever happened to them. It probably would be.

How was last night?! Summer cried. Jansen had told these girls she was spending her birthday with just Hersh so they wouldn’t feel bad they weren’t invited to her party.

Kella was still hanging around, and Jansen realized Kella had no way to light her cigarette. Jansen held hers out till Kella’s caught. It was good, she said without much expression, giving Summer a sharp look and jerking her head slightly in Kella’s direction. She didn’t really care so much about hiding the details from Kella; she just had no intention of giving them to Summer, Tierney, and Taylan either.

Oh! Summer said quickly, glancing at Kella. Taylan and Tierney widened their eyes and nodded.

Hersh got me this ring, Jansen said, holding out her right hand. She couldn’t help but grin giddily when she saw it herself. It shone in the morning sun, yet it didn’t sparkle too much; it was too dark of a blue. Jansen loved that about it…it added to the ring’s mystique.

Tierney and Summer both shrieked.

Oh my gosh, that’s so beautiful! Taylan said.

Is it real? Summer asked, grabbing Jansen’s hand to look more closely.

Of course, Jansen said, because even though the truth was it had cost seventy bucks at that shop on Broadway, they wouldn’t see the appeal of it not being a real sapphire like she did. They would wrinkle their noses and think, yuck, what a cheap, stupid gift.

"Oh my gosh, it’s so pretty," Kella gushed.

They were standing outside school now, and other girls heard the shrieking and started to gather around. They gasped and fell all over themselves to say how gorgeous the ring was and how much it must have cost.

Jansen just smiled and answered their questions vaguely, withholding the details they were going crazy for. She loved the compliments, she loved being mysterious, and she loved how all these girls were jealous she was with Hersh. And it would be fun to sit in class and smile innocently at her teachers while she wore her ring with the coke in it. Her school day was looking up.

chapter 2

This place is the best, Clint pronounced a few weeks later.

It was the Tuesday of spring break, and Jansen, Hersh, Jason, Clint, and their families were on Mistress of the Sea, the private island in the Seychelles owned―and named―by Clint’s dad. Even though Jansen thought the name would be way more appropriate for a boat, she loved the island. It sat a thousand miles off the east coast of Africa in the Indian Ocean, and while everybody from her school and the boys’ school had heard of the Seychelles, none of them had ever been here.

Jansen smiled at the sky, her eyes closed as the sun soaked into her skin. Yeah it is, she agreed with Clint. She didn’t mean the place so much as just being here with him, Hersh, and Jason. It didn’t get much better than her guy friends.

What, you mean you don’t wish you were skiing with Summer and the T-Twins? Hersh asked jokingly.

No way. I’m a beach girl.

Summer, Tierney, and Taylan always pretended not to be jealous, bragging about their annual skiing trip to British Columbia for weeks in advance, but Jansen heard the tightness in their voices and saw the longing looks on their faces when she talked about Mistress of the Sea.

Jansen thought they were partly jealous because every Upper East Side girl would die to vacation on a private island and a little more jealous because of her friendship with Hersh, Jason, and Clint. Even though they would never admit it, Summer, Tierney, and Taylan would give anything to be in her shoes, hanging out and having sleepovers and traveling with boys all the time, being the only girl in a tight-knit and often-talked-about group envied by everybody at school.

Are we going to Mahé tonight? Jason asked.

Mahé was a much bigger island a short boat ride away. Some nights Jason’s and Hersh’s parents would cook for everybody with food Clint’s dad had flown in, but other nights they would take Clint’s dad’s boat over to Mahé and eat in one of the five-star restaurants there.

Usually Jansen looked forward to those nights, but this year she wasn’t really feeling it. She’d rather just hang out with Hersh, and dinner on Mahé meant spending most of the night with the adults.

Yeah, Hersh answered Jason.

Sweet, Jason said. The food’s so good over there.

Yeah it is, Clint said. This is the life.

Jansen smiled. It was true; the food was always mouth-watering. She loved the Auerbachs’ and Hersheys’ cooking, and having more of the night to herself with the boys, but she loved eating out in expensive restaurants too. There were a lot of things about the Upper East Side lifestyle she scoffed at and wanted no part of, but fine dining was definitely not one of them.

This was kind of the life.

∞∞∞∞

Jansen, that is such a gorgeous ring! Where did you get it?

Jansen smirked but made it look like a small, flattered smile. Hersh got it for me, she said with a coy look in his direction.

Oh, you two are just precious! Aren’t they just precious?! Vivian turned to Jansen’s and Hersh’s parents for concurrence.

We like them together, Hersh’s dad Benjamin said, raising his champagne glass in Hersh and Jansen’s direction. Now it was Hersh who flashed a small smile at Jansen.

They were on the boat on their way over to Mahé, and Jansen was trying to speak as little as possible, like she usually did around her parents.

Frederick and Scarlett Montgomery. The finest of New York’s finest, the one percent of Manhattan society…or at least that’s how they saw themselves. They were just so…annoying and uppity, so proud of themselves and their money. Jansen couldn’t stand it. Jason’s and Hersh’s parents she didn’t mind; she even liked them. She would take them over hers any day.

Not Clint’s dad, though. He and whatever girlfriend he brought along every year were always amusing and something to laugh at, but Jansen would never want him as her dad. He and Clint’s mom barely spoke; they’d been divorced since Clint was one. His mom now lived in South Carolina or somewhere with her second husband. She sent Clint gifts at Christmas and on his birthday, and that was their only contact. Clint hadn’t seen her since he was six. Clint’s dad had remarried once. That had lasted for three years, from the time Clint was two till he was five, and ever since then, his dad had dated a never-ending string of pretty but flaky women who were nothing more than flings. Most of them had to be after his money, Jansen thought. He was heavyset with too wide of a forehead, obnoxious red hair, and a more obnoxious personality.

They didn’t talk to Clint about it because they didn’t know if he’d feel embarrassed or upset, but every year Jansen, Jason, and Hersh got a good laugh out of what they called his dad’s spring break fling. All winter they would talk about the women he was dating and speculate which would be the lucky one to go to the Seychelles with him, only to, unbeknownst to her of course, be invariably dumped a week after getting back to New York. Or sometimes less. Two years ago he had never seen the woman again after they walked out of JFK and into separate cabs.

It wasn’t that the women got sick of him; it was that he got sick of them. To go on vacation together was the kiss of death for his relationships. Jansen, Jason, and Hersh laughed about how the women probably felt like the relationship was really moving forward—they were traveling together!—while the whole time Clint’s dad already knew a week would be overkill, so the fling would be over once vacation was. Jansen didn’t feel too sorry for the women because she thought most of them were annoying as hell, and the way she saw it, at least they got a free trip out of it, to somewhere they’d sure as hell never come again.

Vivian was no different from the rest. It was halfway through the week, and she could tell Clint’s dad was starting to pull away, so now she was trying to suck up to him and get closer to him by bonding with his friends and his friends’ kids. Jansen wanted to puke over the side of the boat.

To Hersh, she said sweetly, raising her champagne flute and flashing Vivian a demure smile.

To Hersh and Jansen, Hersh’s dad chimed in with a smooth grin, and everybody raised their flutes in a toast.

Jansen and Hersh snuck another grin at each other behind their flutes as they tipped them up to drink.

This was the first year their parents had let them drink wine and champagne in the evenings; always before they’d had to drink sparkling juice or cider. Clint’s dad had actually been encouraging Clint to drink and party since the beginning of seventh grade, saying it was time for Clint to become a man, and Jason’s parents had let Jason and his friends drink at their penthouse for the last year or so as long as everyone slept over. But Hersh said he wasn’t sure what his parents would think about him drinking and he didn’t want to find out, and Jansen’s parents had no idea she drank outside of their supervision.

When they arrived at Mahé and anchored the boat, they all stepped off and headed up the dock at a leisurely pace, the adults in front. Kella and her friend Grace walked closely behind Jansen, Hersh, Clint, and Jason, trying to overhear them.

"Hey, ne parlons qu’en français," Jason said in a low voice, a mischievous grin on his lips.

Jansen giggled, liking the idea. Let’s talk only in French, Jason had said. She knew he had said it just because he thought it’d be fun; they were on a French-speaking island so it would be a good time to practice their French, and she, Jason, and Hersh had always liked learning other languages. Clint wasn’t very good at it; even though he’d traveled a lot, he never tried very hard to pick up the languages or learn anything about the cultures. Jansen thought he didn’t try because it didn’t come naturally to him. His dad didn’t speak a lick of any other languages either.

"Oui, d’accord, Jansen said. J’ai bien hâte d’ouvrir ma bague plus tard ce soir. She spoke fast, not thinking Kella and Grace would know that much vocabulary but wanting to make sure they didn’t catch what she said: I can’t wait to open my ring later tonight."

Hersh laughed and grabbed Jansen’s hand. "Oui, oui, la cocaína,"