by L. J. Woods
Of course, they do. These kids have way too much spending money to not have a variety of identification to get whatever it is they want.
“Fine,” I say, shoulders dropping as I give Damien one last glare. Flipping him the bird crosses my mind but I don’t want him to know how much he’s getting to me. As if I needed any more humiliation, the bouncer escorts me right to the door and I’m getting thrown out of yet another elite event.
All thanks to Damien.
After pacing back and forth in the lobby, I wait outside the club for Allie for almost an hour. But she doesn’t show up. A few more texts don’t help either.
Damien’s been so foul that I’m starting to wonder if he set this up too? Did he send Lea to Allie? Does he know about them?
I’m not sure how much time passes when Damien comes swaying down the stairs looking more fucked up than earlier. He staggers as he makes his way towards the exit but a girl calls after him. She’s pretty and glamorous, blonde with shimmering highlights. Standing next to her is not what I want to be doing right now with my bare unpolished feet and tangled strands. My mascaras runs, eyes stinging. I’ve been trying to hold back so many tears. Tears of frustration. Anger. Hurt.
He leans against the wall as she says something to him before she heads to the coat booth. Standing across from him, he doesn’t look the least bit remorseful. Unless that’s what his sudden change in sobriety means.
I speak first, though I don’t know why. “Done being a dick?”
“You like it when I’m a dick.” A hand moves to his crotch and I hate that I follow. “You like my dick too.”
“Fuck off,” I snip, even though that reminder has me clenching my legs.
“Okay,” he says, the girl returning to his side with a couple of jackets. One pink. One black. And I know that’s not a simple okay. He’s leaving with her. And it does more to me than I’d like to admit. He takes a step closer and a breath catches in my throat. His jaw tenses, like he’s stopping himself before he says, “By the way, Lea left with Allie a long time ago.”
Fuck.
He walks away, looking over a shoulder with a smirk that says he’s won.
As I watch Damien leave with whoever the fuck that is, I’m starting to feel more alone than I’ve felt in a while. Even Willow has a squad that has her back but mine leave me at the drop of a dime for pussy. Or cock in Nate’s situation.
Pulling out my phone I tap at the screen and order an Uber. So much for my friends having my back. They led me right into the lion’s den and hung me out to dry.
* * *
A yawn escapes my mouth when I step foot on Academy grounds the next morning. Another night of zero sleep is taking its toll on me.
Willow stayed with Bella the entire night and I envy whatever friendship they’ve got going on. Allie called this morning to apologize and offered me a ride to school but I declined. I’m not sure what to think about her at the moment. I want to trust her but not when she’s lying to my face all the time.
Christian’s in the foyer when I enter the school, texting on his phone. There’s a fresh cut on the side of his head, a blazer hanging off his shoulder. I smile his way but he turns around to leave. Damien’s at the end of the hallway and when Christian walks towards him, giving him that bro-ey hug, I have to stop my jaw from dropping to the floor.
Really? After all that, he’s still siding with Damien?
With the history that these people have with each other, I’ll never fit in. I’ll never be the one on everyone’s side. “Jerk,” I mumble when the two start talking and laughing like nothing ever happened.
“Excuse me?” Lea appears beside me in a bright red hairband, her minions behind her.
Rolling my eyes I groan, “I wasn’t talking about you, but I guess if the shoe fits.” I shrug.
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t think I didn’t see you at LOFT last night. Talking to Craig Carson?”
“So?”
“You’d think that your little failed Picasso project would’ve taught you a lesson. My tactics must be lacking.”
The sound in the hallway muffles, my eyes narrowing at her. My mind pieces it together and it all makes sense. Taking a step forward I look down at her, my fists balling in my pockets. “You’re the one who did that?” My cheeks are hot, my heart thumping against my chest.
“The penis?” she asks. Her pink lips move into a tight smile, blinking like it’s obvious. “I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of dick in your time so I only thought it was appropriate.”
“What the fuck, Lea?” My fists are out of my jacket now and I’m only yelling so I don’t deck her in that perfect face. “This isn’t about your fucked up emotional neglect. That was my future! My scholarship was on the line you selfish cu—”
Lea cackles, “You? A scholarship? Let’s be real, Medusa. You never had a chance.”
I’m seeing red when the words slip out of my mouth, “Like you’ll never have a real chance at being who you are?” I turn to the crowd formed around us, body shaking with anger. Buzzing with rage. “Is that why you’re fucking Allie Perez?” When I turn back to her, her face is deep red, round red cheeks making her look like a big red ball.
“What?!” A stern woman’s voice cuts through the chatter. When I look to where it’s coming from, Cindy Huang is leaving the Headmaster’s office. And she looks like she heard everything.
Her cheeks are as red as her daughter’s, her white wrap coat making them brighter. “Lea, is this true?” Her heels clack towards us, the group of students in front of her parting like the red sea.
Lea’s blinking eyes dart between her mom and to someone behind me before she stops, her eyes going wide.
Shit.
My heart drops into my stomach. I don’t need her to say anything to know who it is.
Twenty-Three
“You know what? Yeah!”
Allie speaks up from behind me, confirming what I already suspect. Whispers and gasps get louder around us. “Yeah, it is true,” she says. “I’m totally into Lea. It’s messed up, but I am and I’m tired of hiding it.”
Lea looks like a deer in the headlights but I can’t backtrack now. Way too late. I outed Lea and the person who’s supposed to be my closest ally. My best friend. Shit. Damien’s right. I’m as twisted as he is.
“Lea?” Cindy Huang ignores Allie, waiting for an answer from her daughter. “Are you a le—” She brings her long red nails to her matching red lips. “Lesb—”
Shit. She can’t even say it.
Lea stammers before she straightens her posture, turning a rigid face away from Allie, her hair whipping against my face. “No! I don’t know what these losers are talking about.” There’s a crack in her voice and that gives her away, no matter how hard she tries to deny it.
Cindy’s eyes narrow, her slender body frozen in place. It’s like she doesn’t believe a word that’s coming out of her mouth either and after what Allie said, it’s not convincing. Not at all. “You and I should talk, young lady.” Cindy leads Lea away and the chatter returns.
Taking a deep breath, I turn around, ready to spit out an apology. Allie’s watching Lea walk away like a bully walking away with her lunch money. I’ve never seen her look so hurt. She usually has emotions of steel but Allie seems guttered. And I’m to blame. There’s even a quiver in her bottom lip but if she’s anything like me, she won’t let us see her cry.
“Allie I—”
She puts her hand up, stopping me with a shake of her head, her eyebrows knitting like she’s trying to piece it all together. “I hope that helps, Jo.” That’s the last thing she says before she walks away, her glasses in her hand.
“Shit, Scandal,” Nate’s voice comes from behind me and he doesn’t need to say it. I already feel like absolute scum. His upper lip nearly reaches his nose, like I’m the pile of shit that I know I am. “That wasn’t even scandalous, that was just … bitchy. You fit into this school more than you realize.” He gives me a cut of the eye before he sha
kes his head and does a light jog to catch up to Allie.
Well if I didn’t feel lonely before, I sure as hell do now.
I don’t even register what I’m doing until I’m almost in front of his face. I need a shoulder. A punching bag. Anything. And if Damien was trying to prove that I’m like him, then he did exactly that. Christian starts to walk away when he sees me approaching and Damien doesn’t change his posture, slumping against his locker.
“You weren’t lying,” I say, shoulders dropping when I‘m in front of him. I’m holding back tears, holding back all the normal human emotion you’d get after embarrassing your closest friend. He arches a thick eyebrow with a smug look on his face as if he already knows what I’m here to say. “Lea’s the one that ruined my art project.”
“So you’re not stupid.”
My eyes narrow, “What’s that supposed to mean? You could’ve told me when I accused you.”
“And you would’ve listened?” No. But I’m not admitting that. With a glance at my wrist, he starts to walk away, pants gripping to that tight ass.
“Wait,” I call. “Where are you going?”
“I should go after someone who trusts me,” he says. “See ya, Medusa.”
Damien leaving me standing here is worse than if he had screamed, yelled or threw a tantrum. It’s like he’s saying he’s done with me when I should be through with him. So why does it feel like he went into my chest and tore out my heart?
My body lunges forward as someone nudges into me. “Bitch.”
The whispers start again.
“Looks like she’s back on the blacklist.”
“She’ll always be trash from The Grove. Not like her sister.”
And just like that, I’m back at zero.
* * *
Damien ignores me for the next week.
Hell, everyone does.
The social outcasts themselves want nothing to do with me. Even Willow doesn’t want to be around the mess that is her older sister. She denies it but it’s true. I’m so alone that I even contemplated asking the Archibalds if they have any events I can attend.
I don’t have Zane anymore. And I could blame Damien but I know that if it wasn’t for him, who knows what Zane would’ve done to me that night. He would have kept coming back if it wasn’t for whatever deal Damien struck up.
Great, and now I’m praising the devil when he’s the one that got me shot.
I’m a mope when Friday rolls around. I have nothing to look forward to. I’ve been too down to even try to explain the situation to Clara. She’s made her decision.
A squeal comes out of Willow’s bedroom while I’m trying to bury my nose in a book. Bella’s with her again. They’re glued at the hip and while I’m happy for her, I’m the slightest bit annoyed. Okay, the biggest bit.
Throwing my book onto the comforter I get up from my bed to shut her door. If we can’t hang out, I don’t want a reminder of it. I want to be alone, in my room, hoodie over my head so I can brood in peace. To be honest I want to be anywhere but here. I’ve been thinking about skipping out again. Out of this town. Out of life. The thought of Willow’s face when she realizes I’m gone is the only thing holding me back.
“Sssh,” Willow says when my hand hits the doorknob to her bedroom. “I don’t want Jo to know.”
My eyes narrow. The fuck? Swinging the door open I ask for clarity, “Don’t want me to know what?”
My sister looks like she’s about to jump out of whatever the fuck it is she’s wearing. I swear her skirts keep getting shorter and while I thought The Grove was bad for her, Eden’s not any better.
“Geez, Jo!” Willow says in a sparkly black mini dress. She looks like a goddamn disco ball. A disco ball with bright red lipstick. “Were you standing there the whole time?” She flips her straight hair behind her shoulder and Bella laughs which annoys me even more.
Ignoring her sass, I repeat my question, “Don’t want me to know what, Low?”
Willow meets my gaze and I give her one that slices whatever lie she wants to tell me in half. Her shoulders drop, heels in her hand. She can hardly look at me when she says, “About King’s party.”
My jaw clenches, my grip on the doorknob getting tighter and if I’m not careful I’ll rip the thing off. “You’re going back to Damien’s?” He’s having another party he didn’t invite me to? Is he just going back to his life like nothing happened all because I couldn’t trust him? No one can trust him!
“Jo?” My sister’s looking at me like I’ve lost it and I’m wondering if my face is as twisted as it feels. “Is that okay? Please, don’t be mad but the Supreme Squad will be there and Lea says she’ll tell everyone how great I’ve be—”
“You’re not going.”
Her head jerks back, “What?”
“Oop.” Bella gets comfortable as if she’s settling in for a show.
“I said, you’re not going,” I turn to walk away but her voice stops me.
“I am going.” Her voice is firmer than I’ve ever heard it, striking a burn right to my heart.
I turn around, eyeing her up in disbelief. “No. You’re not.”
“You can’t tell me what to do!” she spits. “Just because you’re social suicide doesn’t mean you have to be jealous every time I get invited to King’s.”
Is she being serious? “The last time you went to King’s you almost got manhandled by an idiot!”
“I know what I’m doing,” she says, nose to the ceiling.
“Clearly, you don’t.” I want to pull that dress right off of her, those sparkling earrings too. “Now take that shit off.”
“No.” She’s standing her ground and while I want to be proud, she’s pissing me the fuck off. I’m only looking out for her. Only telling her what’s best. “I’m going to that party and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She slams the door in my face and I’m stunned, blinking at the white wood before I try to open it again.
She’s pushing back and she’s pushing hard as she yells, “Just because your life’s fucked up doesn’t mean that I can’t have the life of a normal fourteen-year-old!”
We’re not normal. We’ll never be normal. She must be getting help from Bella because the door won’t budge in my favour. I call back, the tightness of my voice giving away my struggle, “I’m only watching out for you!”
“I have Bella!”
Her words sting a lot more than I’m sure she meant. But it feels like she has a replacement. A smaller, shorter version of Nate. I let go, the door slamming while I stare at it, my heart shattering into pieces. Willow’s always one to take my advice, to be by my side. But have I lost her too?
There’s rummaging on the other side of the door before her voice comes from the hallway, “I’m going to King’s and don’t follow me! No one wants you there!”
Dashing out my bedroom door, I’m too late. By the time I get to the staircase, my sister and Bella are already rushing through the front door, giggling as they do.
“Girls?” Nancy comes down the hallway in a white and black dress. “Why do you sound like little banshees? Go … do something.” She waves me off on her way to the kitchen, leaving me guttered and boiling.
This doesn’t end here.
Not a chance.
Heading back to my room, I rummage through the mess on the floor for a clean pair of jeans. The ones I find are tattered but I’m not doing this as a fashion statement. Not this time. Pulling my leather jacket over my sweater, I leave the hoodie over my head. Pushing my feet in my Docs, I stop by the edge of my bed. Crouching down, I reach my arm under my mattress, patting around for that leftover bottle of bourbon. It’s about half full.
“Aha!” My hand hits the bottle. If I’m going to do this, I’m doing this on my own. And if I’m doing this on my own, I’m going to need a little liquid courage.
* * *
“Damien King!”
Heads whip towards the door when I stumble into the mansion.
The place is a b
lur, colours moving by me with the smell of expensive perfume and cologne.
“Damien—” I trip over my boots, whiskey flying out of the bottle I have in my hand. “King!” If I was going to set foot back in this place after the week I’ve had, I wasn’t doing it sober. I’m not a masochist. Am I? If that were true, would I be here? Back in hell?
Rock music blares through the house but I don’t recognize the song. Something by The Pretty Reckless. While I would commend the choice, right now I’m on a mission.
When I take another step, I wobble, and okay, maybe I had a bit too much liquid courage.
“Woah, Jo!” Carlos’s hand comes to my side, catching me from hitting the floor with my face. “You okay, mama? You can’t be here.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Fuck him for telling me where I can and can’t be. “Fuck you!” Oops. I didn’t mean for it to fly out of my mouth but if Willow won’t listen to me, I need Damien to kick her out. She can’t be here. Not without me. And if I can’t be here, she can’t be either.
“I’m only trying to help,” he says, keeping his voice low but I can see we’re already drawing an audience. “You don’t look too good.”
Fuck. My liquid courage is not courageous at all. I’m a total mess. Like my life. But it’s too late. I’m already here. “Wh-where’s Brillow?” I don’t know if he’s still in front of me, room blurring as I try to glance around.
“Rowland?”
That voice cuts through the crowd and right through my soul. Damien’s standing at the top of the stairs and even drunk as hell I make out every inch of his chiselled features. That smouldering gaze. He looks so fucking good bare-chested in that jacket, rips on his expensive jeans that were likely there when he bought them. My eyes move to that bitch from the club, standing beside him.
Wait. Is he looking good for her? Prick.
A crowd builds in the foyer as I climb the stairs the best I can. I’m only now realizing how many steps he has, and how hard it is to climb.