Chapter 1
Taylor Dunkin stood in his tidy bedroom, staring at himself in the mirror that hung above his dresser. “You know what you need to do,” he said aloud and then took a deep breath. He dropped his blue eyes to a framed picture of himself and his ex-girlfriend Julie that sat on his dresser. It had been taken during the summer of 2016—before he blew out his knee, snorted a painkiller, or broke Julie’s tender heart. Picking up the photo and admiring the sparkle in her eyes, he wondered where she was at the moment, who she was with, and if there was any chance that she could still love him.
After carefully setting the picture down and glancing to his left, Taylor picked up another framed photograph and smiled. The snapshot of his immediate family had been taken five years prior, after Taylor and Jordan’s high school football team won the Super Bowl. Taylor had one arm hooked around his youngest brother Marc’s neck, and his other arm was holding a trophy high in the air. Jordan was pointing at the trophy with a cocky smirk on his fifteen-year-old face, and their parents were proudly gloating on either side of Taylor. He smiled again before setting the picture frame down on his bureau, filled with hope that he and his brothers would become close again.
Taking a deep breath, he sat down on his bed and rested his head in his hands. “Just do it, T,” he commanded himself. Lifting his head, he let out a heavy breath and then made his way over to his nightstand, which held his drug supply. He retrieved his big green box of drugs and opened its lid. Sifting through the contents, he estimated there was approximately $4,000 worth of his supplier’s product left to sell, which equated to a street value of roughly $10,000. He set the box down on the bed and let out another heavy breath. Looking up at the ceiling, he shook his head in disbelief that his life had become so complicated. It felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare. After regaining his composure, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to call his father.
“Hey, T. How’d things go with Marc?” his dad greeted him.
“Good—good enough for me to come home for Easter,” Taylor replied, knowing he could not mention anything about the police investigation over the phone, although he desperately needed his father’s advice.
“You have no idea how happy that makes me. Mom will be thrilled.”
“I was actually thinking of coming home tonight if that’s okay?”
“You don’t need to ask. You’ll always have a room here.”
“Thanks. It’s just been a while,” Taylor said in a regretful tone. “Do you want me to pick up Jordan to save you a trip into the city?”
“Oh, that would be great. He’ll be pumped to see you. He’s landing at 10:10 on JetBlue.”
“Awesome. I can’t wait to see him.”
“Mom and I will wait up for you guys. We’ll have food ready.”
“That sounds great. I’ll shoot him a text and let him know to look out for my Jeep.”
“I’ll leave him a voicemail, too. Oh, man. I’m so glad you and Marc talked.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he believed I was clean until he saw me,” Taylor remarked. “He seemed happy when he left.”
“I’m sure. He missed you. You’re his favorite person. Going four months without talking to you couldn’t have been easy.”
“I hurt him—a lot.”
“T, that wasn’t you. That was the painkillers. As long as you keep drugs in your past, your relationship with Marc will fix itself.”
Taylor glanced at the green box beside him that was filled with coke, molly, Adderall, marijuana, and acid. “I hope so.”
“You boys spent countless hours at Al-anon, yet you and Marc both seem to have a hard time understanding grace.”
Taylor sighed. “I’m trying. It’s just hard to forgive myself for hurting so many people. There were a lot of kids from Montgomery affected by my poor decisions—even some of Marc’s and Chris’s friends. They’re so young.”
“It was their decision to use the drugs—just like it was your decision to abuse your meds.”
“I know,” Taylor admitted begrudgingly. “I just can’t believe I did what I did. It feels like someone else was in control of my mind and body for a solid year. I can’t even wrap my head around how I let that happen.”
Taylor heard his father let out a heavy breath on the other end of the line. “Drugs were in control of your mind and body. I’ve told you this before; the devil uses drugs and alcohol to trap people in his grip, and then he condemns them for it. It’s all part of the spiritual battle being fought over your soul. If you learn to depend on God, He’ll help you win the war.”
“I hope I can learn how to do that because I need all the help I can get.”
“It’s good you’re coming home. The longer you stay, the more I can help you.”
“Thanks,” Taylor said, feeling a sharp pang of guilt as he glanced again at his box of drugs. “Well… I should go pack, and I have to run a few errands before I head to the airport, but I’ll see you around eleven.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Bye, Dad,” Taylor said distractedly and ended the call. He glanced again at the green box beside him and then rested his head in his hands. His palms were sweating, and his heart was pounding heavily against his muscular chest. He felt more anxious than he ever had before a big game, and he desperately wanted to suppress his emotions so he could think clearly. Although his primary care doctor had prescribed him Xanax to help him sleep, he had not taken it in months because he feared it could cause him to relapse. That night was no exception.
He lifted his blonde head-of-hair out of his sweaty hands and stood up. While walking over to the safe in his closet, he felt like cinder blocks were attached to his legs. Kneeling before the safe, he entered the code 0-3-2-7, chosen for March 27th—the day of his and Julie’s first date. Two days prior would have been their two-year anniversary. In November, his deep love for her and hatred for himself had moved him to end their relationship because he believed she deserved more than he could offer. Shortly after, he realized he was addicted to painkillers and somehow found the will to get sober. Nevertheless, trying to reconcile with Julie was out of the question until he could free himself from the violent crime ring he had ignorantly joined.
Opening the safe, Taylor locked his blue eyes on his handgun, wondering if he would be safer armed or if that would intensify the problem. Reaching past the gun, he retrieved two envelopes: a white one filled with money for his supplier (forty percent of his recent sales) and a yellow one filled with his own share of the profits. Between the two envelopes, he had roughly $1,000, which was all he had to show for three and a half months of drug dealing. On numerous occasions, he had easily sold $1,000 worth of coke in one night. His supplier, Donny Bilotti, was going to find Taylor’s level of production completely unacceptable.
Taking a deep breath, he reached further into his safe and pulled out another yellow envelope with $2,400 in it—money he had set aside for his April rent that was due to his landlord on Monday. Sitting back, he eyed the cash before him, trying to focus on what his gut was telling him to do. The problem was he no longer trusted himself or his instincts, so he questioned everything he perceived. His heart was beating so loudly that he feared he was on the verge of a panic attack. Leaving the money spread out on the floor, he hustled downstairs to his living room and retrieved his dab pen, which was filled with a blend of CBD and THC oil. He eyed it apprehensively, fearful of what would happen to him if he hit it and fearful of what would happen if he didn’t.
Marijuana was legal in Massachusetts but so was alcohol. Getting drunk would ruin his four months of sobriety, so getting high would too, right? He feared that weed would cloud his judgment and weaken his will, which could cause him to relapse. He did not want to do anything to threaten his sobriety because it was the only thing that made him feel remotely proud. He also needed a clear head for the difficult task ahead of him. Anxiety or not, he couldn’t allow himself to get high.
After setting the dab pen back inside its box, he leaned back on his couch and placed both of his hands over his throbbing heart. He took a few deep breaths and tried to find the nerve to do what needed to be done. An image of a gun barrel pointing at his forehead flashed into his mind, followed by another vision of himself tied up in chains with burns and cuts all over his body. With that thought, he rushed over to the sink in his kitchen, afraid that he might vomit. After splashing cold water on his face, he slumped onto the cold tile floor and buried his head in his hands. The combination of trepidation and self-loathing that overcame him caused tears to well up inside his eyes, plunge down his cheeks, and drip from his chiseled jaw into his sweat-coated hands. He knew every step he took from that point on would be pivotal for his survival.
Chapter 2
With a two-hour layover, Jordan Dunkin was sitting by the gate for his flight to Boston in Newark Liberty International Airport. He had opted to dive into some of his coursework for his Christian ethics class, while sipping on a Vanilla Bean Frappuccino. Jordan had signed up for the course to fulfill a core requirement, never imagining he would find the curriculum very interesting. However, he had quickly realized there was an immense amount of wisdom in what was being taught.
Prior to taking the course, Jordan was trying his best to become a better Catholic than he had been in high school. He wanted his family, coaches, and professors to take him seriously. After earning a starting spot on Notre Dame’s football team and having a winning season, Jordan began to believe God was blessing him for the positive changes he was making to his lifestyle. When he ran into Michelle Taylor over Christmas break, she expressed interest in keeping in touch, which he took as a sign he was on the right path. His Christian ethics class gave him and Michelle a lot to discuss because she was a devout Christian with a sound understanding of the Bible. She had a knack for explaining things in a way that made sense to Jordan, and he found himself growing more and more interested in not only Michelle, but also the things of God. He finally desired to have the type of relationship with Christ that his father had been talking about for years.
Jordan noticed that the more deeply he dove into the curriculum, the more his perspective on life was changing. One year prior, he never would have passed up on a spring break trip to the Caribbean to go home. Now, he was excited to spend a week in Montgomery with his family. He specifically wanted to uncover what was going on in his older brother Taylor’s life. Taylor, who had once been Jordan’s greatest role model, had been struggling with a painkiller addiction for over a year. Although Jordan was doing everything in his power to avoid following his older brother’s footsteps, he respected the leader Taylor had once been and hoped that person still existed somewhere inside of him.
It had been like a dream to attend Montgomery Lake High as Taylor Dunkin’s younger brother. Taylor had paved the way for Jordan to have great success on the football field without much effort. Making varsity as a freshman was unheard of, but Taylor made it happen for Jordan. Of course, as Captain, Taylor trained Jordan harder than anyone else on the team, making sure he was an effective receiver. Taylor and Jordan grew up playing catch together in their backyard, so the connection they shared on the field was unprecedented. As a freshman, Jordan became the number one targeted receiver, and MLH had an undefeated season. The opportunity that Taylor gave Jordan to shine led to numerous recruiters contacting him—albeit illegally—well before his junior year of high school.
It honestly felt wrong to attend Notre Dame without Taylor. It was the university Taylor had chosen over Vanderbilt, Auburn, USC, ‘Bama, BC, Northeastern, Clemson, The U, and Penn. At the time, Taylor and Jordan had dreamed of playing on the same team again, and that had motivated Jordan to focus in school. When Taylor lost his chance with Notre Dame—due to an arrest after a supposed senior-prank-gone-wrong—Jordan assumed Taylor would, at the very least, try to transfer there in the future. He never expected Taylor to settle for playing on an unranked team. When Taylor opted not to transfer as a sophomore, Jordan grew concerned about his brother’s mental health.
It became apparent that losing his chance to play for a ranked team had taken some wind out of Taylor’s sails. His arrest had been unfortunate because it was completely out of character for Taylor to participate in any sort of prank. The news had completely shocked Jordan, who had always considered his older brother a bit uptight. Moreover, it shook the bottoms off their parents and teachers. Jordan honestly believed that if Taylor had never been arrested, his current situation would have been very different. He assumed the resulting failure and embarrassment Taylor felt was what drove him to begin experimenting with recreational drugs in college. While most people blamed Taylor’s painkiller addiction on his knee injury, Jordan believed Taylor’s 2013 senior-prank-gone-wrong was the root cause.
Jordan’s cell phone vibrated on his lap, pulling his attention away from his ethics book. He smiled when he saw a text from Michelle on the screen. Sliding her message open, he read:
Michelle: When do you land in Boston? I’m in the Seaport now with my friends. You won’t believe it, but I ran into Taylor at Northeastern today.
Jordan: I hope you’re still pulling for ND after your tour today!
Michelle: For sure!!
Jordan: 🙂 I land around 10. My parents are picking me up. Otherwise I would take an Uber and meet you in the Seaport. How did Taylor look?
Michelle: Oh bummer… are we still good for tomorrow? Taylor looked and sounded great.
Jordan: We are most definitely good for tomorrow. I’m going to head into the city to visit T in the morning and then I’m all yours.
Michelle: 🙂 Will you text me after you land in Boston safely?
Jordan: Sure thing
Michelle: Praying you have a safe flight!
Jordan: Thanks. Have fun tonight!
Jordan smiled as he set his phone down on his lap. He felt incredibly blessed to have Michelle back in his life. She had first caught his eye when he was a junior and she was a freshman in high school. Of course, at the time, he had been too immature to appreciate her inherent goodness or purity. In fact, during his senior year, he had foolishly told his younger brother Marc that he planned to take Michelle’s virginity, which was most likely why Marc erroneously believed Jordan had slipped something into Michelle’s drink at a party. While home for spring break, Jordan hoped to set the record straight with Marc. The secret of what really happened that night had been concealed for over two years, and it was time for the truth to be told.
Chapter 3
Michelle Taylor pulled her long brown hair into a tight ponytail, allowing a few wispy pieces to frame her makeup-less face. She wiped beads of sweat off the back of her neck with a soft towel that the bathroom attendant had handed her and then tossed the dirty cloth into the bamboo hamper, which looked like it belonged in a day spa. After smiling at the attendant, she sat down on a white leather bench to wait for her friends to finish using the facilities. Although they were patrons at the most upscale, eighteen-plus nightclub in Boston, the atmosphere made Michelle feel grimy.
Girls rocking perfect curls and fake eyelashes were hustling in and out of the bathroom. While some of their outfits were shockingly revealing, others were perfectly appropriate for the scene. Michelle, on the other hand, appeared quite out of place. Earlier that day, she had toured a couple of local colleges with her friend Katie McKnight. Michelle’s high-waisted, pinstripe dress pants, white long-sleeved blouse, and high-heeled boots were perfect for meeting with admissions counselors. For dancing inside a steamy, overcrowded nightclub? Not so much.
Michelle locked her eyes on her friends Missy Kent and Laurelle Mahoney as they came out of a stall together, laughing and giddily holding each other’s hands like small children. Missy’s platinum blonde hair was styled in a braided updo centered perfectly on top of her head. Her baby-blue lace top, which matched the color of her eyes, had been purchased in the lingerie section of Victoria’s Secret; together with her high-waisted, tight, white skirt and white platform heels, Missy was a gorgeous spectacle. Laurelle, revealing much less skin, had a bohemian flair to her style. Her pink and white lace dress was sheer in the sleeves and across the stomach. It flowed loosely down to her knees, about three inches above the top of her leather cowboy boots. Wherever Missy and Laurelle went, their contagious laughter, bright smiles, and childlike pep captivated everyone’s attention.
As Missy and Laurelle skipped over to the sinks, a stall door opened to reveal Michelle’s best friend, Day Angeletti. Michelle assumed Day felt just as out of place as she did. Wearing a sleeveless, black blouse, an argyle skirt, nylons, and heeled pumps, Day was likely less drenched in sweat than Michelle but just as morally conflicted. Observing the overwhelmed expression on Day’s face, Michelle assumed the atmosphere of the club was stirring up memories Day would have rather forgotten.
Michelle stood up from her seat to join her friends by the sinks. Laurelle was repeatedly filling the palm of her hand with water and pouring it on the back of hers and Missy’s necks. Every time the water landed on Missy’s skin, she would close her eyes and say how good it felt.
“Laurelle, you’re getting water all over me!” Day exclaimed in an annoyed tone after water splashed onto her shirt for the third time.
Laurelle laughed. “It’s raining!” she cried and flung her hands up in the air, causing water droplets to fall on top of Day’s head.
“Tell Katie I’m going to find John,” Day huffed before abruptly exiting the bathroom.
Michelle glanced towards the stalls, wondering why Katie was taking so long. “Katie?” she called out loudly.
“Sorry!” Katie cried and immediately swung her stall door open. With her phone to her ear, she raised one finger to Michelle. “Missy put you guys on the guest list,” Katie spoke into her phone, “so you shouldn’t have to wait in line… No, I’m in the bathroom so I can hear you… Text me when you get here, and I’ll let you know where we are… See you soon!” She hung up the phone and looked at Michelle apologetically. “Sorry. That was Ally,” she said. “Matt’s looking for parking. Robby’s with them.”
“Oh, good. Day’s at her wits end with them,” she whispered and gestured towards Missy and Laurelle. “She’ll be glad to see Ally.”
“Day thought we were all coming here for a fancy dinner,” Katie said while washing her hands. “She didn’t know this place turns into a club after eight.”
“I had no idea either. We should have checked online instead of trusting Luke with the plans,” Michelle stated dryly.
Katie peered at her reflection and chuckled. “Shell, we look like we’re going on job interviews.”
Michelle latched onto Katie’s arm and laughed. “Can you imagine if Jordan came here from the airport to see me? He’d question everything he thinks he knows about me.”
Katie playfully nudged Michelle. “The Jordan Dunkin I remember would be the master of this space.”
“He’s not who everyone thinks he is.”
Katie widened her eyes. “Sounds like you’re in love.”
“There’s more to him than just football and partying—”
“—Girls! Lots of girls!” Katie interjected.
Michelle rolled her eyes.
Katie peered at her in an amused manner. “You know he’s probably been with, like, a hundred girls, right?”
“No, he hasn’t!” Michelle exclaimed.
Katie laughed.
“Don’t forget that he’s kept our secret for over two years,” Michelle retorted.
Katie smiled. “I know. I’m just playing.”
“At the expense of people thinking he tried to date rape me,” Michelle added.
Katie leaned back against the sink and crossed her arms. “I can’t believe Marc still thinks that.”
“Jordan could have told him the truth, but he stayed quiet to protect our friend. He’s a good kid.”
“It’s not just about her,” Katie said matter-of-factly. “It’s about you. He kept silent because you asked him to.”
Michelle groaned. “Marc and Jordan’s relationship is suffering over something that never even happened.”
Katie gazed at Michelle thoughtfully. “You’re going to tell Marc the truth, aren’t you?”
Michelle placed her hands on the sink, put her head down, and slowly nodded.
Katie stared at Michelle’s reflection in the mirror. “You know what could happen, right?”
Michelle lifted her head and looked at Katie’s reflection before turning around to face her. “Marc won’t tell anyone,” she insisted.
“Maybe you should wait until college decisions come out?” Katie suggested.
Michelle sighed. “Jordan’s been the scapegoat for two and a half years, Katie. Marc will barely speak to him. I have to set things straight while he’s home for spring break.”
“We told Marc that Jordan was trying to take care of you. Marc doesn’t want to believe it because he’s still in love with you.”
Michelle shook her head. “We’re best friends. That’s it.”
Katie rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have a big choice to make on May first.”
“I have to get into Notre Dame and BC before I can make that decision,” Michelle retorted.
“Are you or are you not third in our class?” Katie questioned her facetiously.
Michelle laughed. “Stop.”
“With a 34 ACT?” Katie continued.
Michelle could feel her cheeks turning red.
“Oh, and three 700+ subject tests!” Katie exclaimed.
“Oh my gosh, we are such nerds!” Michelle cried and began to laugh, realizing again how out of place she and Katie were inside the club. “Who hides in the bathroom at a nightclub to discuss class rank and test scores?”
Katie chuckled. “Stop being so humble! You’re going to get into both of those schools and have a huge decision to make.”
Michelle glanced over at Missy and Laurelle, who were sitting together on a nearby chair. Missy was perched on Laurelle’s lap with her arms around Laurelle’s neck. They appeared to be in a deep conversation.
“We should go find everyone else,” Michelle suggested, deliberately shifting the conversation away from Marc and Jordan.
“If we can get them to leave the bathroom,” Katie remarked dryly before walking over to the girls.
“Hi!” Missy cried as soon as she noticed Katie and Michelle. “Do you guys want to sit down?”
“We want to find Day and the boys,” Michelle replied.
“Oh, they’re fine,” Laurelle assumed and waved off Michelle.
Katie laughed. “Well, we didn’t come here for the bathroom. There are places to sit in the club, too.”
Missy sighed. “Just tell Luke we’ll be out in a few minutes. It’s fine. He won’t care.”
Wondering if it was a good idea to leave Missy and Laurelle unattended, Michelle made eye contact with Katie. Katie looked amused by the girls’ altered states of mind.
“Enjoy the bathroom, you weirdos!” Katie cried sarcastically. “I can’t wait to see what your boyfriends are up to.”
“Pat’s not my boyfriend!” Laurelle insisted.
“He is so your boyfriend,” Katie teased her. “In fact, you guys will be the next ones to get engaged.”
Laurelle laughed. “When two people can be with anyone else they want but choose to keep seeing each other, that’s beautiful. That’s our style. No commitment, just choosing each other over and over again.”
“You guys are so in love,” Missy sang.
“There’s a chance he could—”
“—We’re going to find everyone else,” Katie interrupted Laurelle and tugged on Michelle’s arm.
“Come find us soon!” Michelle called back to the girls as Katie pulled her towards the exit.
“They’re going to sit in that chair and talk about Pat and Luke for hours,” Katie whispered to Michelle.
Michelle opened the bathroom door and paused. “They’d rather talk about them than hang out with them?”
Katie playfully pushed Michelle through the doorway. “It only makes sense to people on molly.”
“Is that what they took?” Michelle asked while gazing at the crowded dance floor, where at least 300 bodies were bumping and grinding to EDM.
“Oh, yeah,” Katie replied assuredly. “I could tell by their pupils.”
“Do you see anyone?” Michelle asked.
“No. I’ll text Day,” Katie said and pulled out her phone. “Oh, Ally texted me that they’re here, over to the right of the stage.”
“I dread walking through that crowd—all that body heat and sweat,” Michelle groaned. “I am, like, sweltering.”
“Do you want to go outside?” Katie asked. “I’m totally fine with that.”
“Maybe just for a second,” Michelle agreed. She could feel numerous pairs of eyes on her, and without any of her guy friends by her side, she felt vulnerable. “Actually, I’d rather find Matt, Robby, or John,” she admitted.
“I don’t want to fight our way through that dance floor,” Katie admitted. “I’ll text Robby to meet us by the bathrooms.”
During the few minutes it took for Robby to find his way to the girls, Michelle and Katie were approached by three different groups of college kids. When one boy would not stop leaning closely into Michelle, Katie cried out, “Do you know who her boyfriend is?”
“Is he here?” the kid responded.
“Jordan Dunkin. Does that name mean anything to you?” Katie asked and crossed her arms.
The kid squinted at Katie in thought. “Is he related to Taylor Dunkin?”
Michelle’s heart began to pound. She was not Jordan’s girlfriend, and she hoped it would not get back to him that Katie had made that claim.
Katie looked startled to hear Taylor’s name come out of the boy’s mouth. “How do you know Taylor?” she asked.
The boy looked surprised by her question. “Everyone in this club knows Taylor.”
“He’s got the pure stuff,” one of the other guys said.
“But we haven’t seen him here in months,” another kid chimed in.
“Do you have his number?” the boy closest to Michelle asked in an excited manner.
Katie and Michelle shot each other confused looks.
“I think we’re talking about two different people,” Michelle replied. “We thought you meant my friend’s brother.”
“Northeastern football player?” one of the kids asked.
Michelle felt a lump form in her throat. Were these guys implying that Taylor was a drug dealer? Jordan and Marc had told her about Taylor’s struggle with painkillers after his surgery, but the idea of Taylor dealing drugs was foreign to her.
“Must be a different person,” Katie responded and inconspicuously nudged Michelle. “The Taylor we know isn’t in college.”
“Hey, girls,” Robby greeted them as he stepped into their circle. Robby was dressed nicely in a button-up shirt and khakis, but his attire was far different from the metrosexual-hipster look that the majority of the guys were rocking. Michelle assumed Robby had known as little about the venue as her.
Katie threw her arms around Robby and kissed him on the cheek. Thankfully, the group of guys who had been huddled around them walked away without another word. Michelle was a bit stunned by the conversation that had transpired. As out of place as she looked inside the club, she believed she was meant to be there to hear the rumor about Taylor. She wanted to find out if Jordan or Marc knew anything about Taylor dealing drugs. She could not picture Taylor doing such a thing. In Montgomery, he was highly regarded as a role model, and even though he was no longer playing football, people considered him a living legend.
Free sample excerpt from Gripped Part 4: Smoke & Mirrors © Stacy A. Padula. For personal reading only—please purchase the full book to continue.
This award-winning novel is part of the gripping Gripped series and is currently being adapted for TV by Emmy® award-winning producer Mark Blutman. It’s perfect for teens navigating real pressures, parents wanting to understand today’s challenges, and anyone who loves suspenseful, character-driven YA with heart and hope.
- Gold Winner for “Best Teen Book” in the 2026 Readers’ Choice Book Awards
- Average Amazon rating: 4.7 out of 5 stars
- Average Goodreads rating: 4.9 out of 5 stars
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