by Crimson Cole
“Now work it girl!” I demand. “Don’t go in that party all shy and shit. Hold your head up high… Promise?”
“I promise,” she says, gazing at her reflection. “Thank you!” We give each other air kisses and act all hoity-toity. “We’re high falutin now, for sure.” Blue prances around in her heels, wobbling a few times. “I’d better practice this shit or I’m gonna fall flat on my face.”
An overexaggerated laugh pours out of me, and it doesn't stop, for deep down inside I know if I stop laughing, I’m going to lose it.
We settle into the Hall of Honor, and if my mind wasn’t on more pressing things, I would be in awe of the opulence around me. Leather wing-back chairs are scattered throughout the room, a large stone fireplace adorns almost an entire wall with solid-wood tables on two of the other walls.
Crystal goblets, fine china, and more silverware than I know what to do with grace the oblong tables set up for our impending dinner engagement. Systematically I count the place settings... there are sixteen on each table, and I notice place cards with names neatly printed in a formal font. Shit. I don’t want to get stuck next to Jasmine and April. My mind wanders to Jovan, and I'm torn between wanting to sit at his table, and wanting to be on the other side of the earth, far away from him.
Gina and Abby fidget nervously and make small talk with a few of the other girls.
“This is where the Savages have their clandestine meetings,” Blue says in a hushed tone.
“How do you know?” I furrow my brows and lean into her, curious where she’s gotten her information.
“Steve told me. The dinner is where they check the guys out to see if they are pledge material for the Savages. It’s harder for the Honoree’s to get accepted he said.”
The pit of my stomach tightens into a dense knot.
Hell Week.
Yesterday, I didn’t think I had anything to worry about during Hell Week, but after the crazy turn of events today, I know Jovan’s word no longer hold any truth. Protection is off the table, especially if I choose to stay and not give in to his demanding threats that I leave Apple Valley Academy.
I take a deep breath drinking in the atmosphere. I glance at myself in the mirror, and a sad, small creature’s reflection stares back at me. Heat flares up my face, causing me to tug at my neckline. Anger replaces my fear. I refuse to be a victim again. Take back your power! My back straightens and my head lifts as I thrust my chin out and paint a confident look on my face. My stance widens slightly. I refuse to kowtow to any of the so-called Royals and I stand here owning my space.
April and Jasmine sweep into the room as if they’re movie stars, then quickly look disappointed that the guys aren’t here for their grand entrance. Several of the girls gather around them and Blue rolls her eyes, making me laugh. Steve, Tommy, and Davis arrive, and I nervously expect Jovan to pile in behind them, but he doesn’t.
Blue glances at me and grits her teeth into a wide-open grimace. I mouth the word relax and tilt my head toward Steve. Blue turns to see him waving for her to join him and she turns her head back towards me, unsure what to do. I raise my eyebrows, turning my hands up with my palms air-pushing her over to him.
I’m happy for my friend and try to bask in her happiness and forget my troubles for a moment.
Jasmine and April are busy chatting about their favorite subject… themselves,
I take the opportunity to study the seating arrangement, careful to conceal my intent, I meander around the tables snooping at the cards. Several faculty members names, I don’t recognize, are scattered throughout the seating arrangements peppered in with students. Davis, Steve, and Jovan’s place cards are all arranged for them to sit together on one side of the table. That leaves two open seats on either side of Jovan. I desperately want to know if I’m seated at his table, and anticipation makes my skin feel clammy.
Jasmine is watching me like a hawk, so I can’t peek at the other names in Jovan’s row.
I try another tactic and move to the far opposite side of the table, quickly flipping the card open for the person seated opposite Jovan, and hold my breath. I don’t want to admit it to myself, but disappointment sags my shoulders slightly as I see Tommy’s name printed on the parchment. I gravitate to the next card and Blue’s is slated to sit two places from the end, so the mystery name on the other side must be her Shadow seated to Jovan’s right. I flip the card for the empty seat between Tommy and Blue… my name is on the card, so Meribelle must be sitting on the other side of Jovan, and I am opposite her.
Great...
Everyone is mingling and getting to know each other as I wander around the room, keeping to myself, offering small smiles and nods as I walk by. Jovan still hasn’t made an appearance and it’s driving me crazy.
I notice a row of portraits of middle-aged men on the far wall. I gravitate over to them and study each one, reading the short school bio of each man… Steven Brent, III… it’s clear this man is Steve’s father. Not only do they share the same first name, but Steve is a spitting image of the blond-haired, blue-eyed, middle-aged man in the image. As I move methodically down the length of the wall, my heart races.
What if his photograph is here… I force myself to read the names and avoid gazing at the pictures. Several names are on the wall I don't recognize, and I swiftly move past them. Devlon Winters shares the same red hair and snide smile as Jasmine, and James Wilson had the same sharp nose as April’s and pale blonde hair.
My stride halts at the second to last portrait’s metal name plate… Jacob Daniels.
That’s him!
My gaze stays downcast as if gravity is pulling my eyes away from peering at the man who's responsible for ruining my life. I feel my nostrils flare as I exhale a deep breath through them. The hazy memories of a little girl distort his appearance in my mind’s eye, but now I will finally know what my perpetrator looks like.
What if Jovan resembles him.
I shouldn’t care if Jovan resembles his dad.
But I do.
It matters.
The thought makes my stomach churn as if I will vomit. That I could be attracted to someone with the face of my violator as if his dirty deeds sealed in my mind what sexually attracts me to men.
I will myself to have courage, despite the rapid beating of my heart, and raise my gaze to view the monster who is still manipulating my life.
Perfectly straight, pearly white teeth leap out from the portrait looming large behind a crooked smile.
A prominent straight nose nestled between beady, brown eyes that stare holes through me.
A shock of blond hair swept heavily to the side.
I almost collapse from relief as a long sigh releases from me.
My eyes firmly shut as a wave of liberation cleanses my mind of the shame, I felt for finding Jovan attractive.
He looks nothing like him, but it doesn’t change anything between us. That fact only absolves my own fucked up psyche.
Pain sears through both of my shoulders as a vice-like grip clamps tighter on them.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?”
The familiar tone of Jovan’s harsh whisper causes both desire and panic to stir in my heart. His warm breath caresses my ear, warring against his harsh touch. He doesn’t ease the tension in his hands, and I refuse to flinch as I feel his body inch closer to mine. I reach upward and pat his hand, and a slight sigh escapes his lips, making my knees weak. I sway back slightly under his spell. I want to whirl around and lash into him and kiss him at the same time, yet I linger in the moment of his body so close to mine.
I wish… things were different between us, but they aren’t and never will be.
I dig my fingernails into Jovan’s hand and turn my head slightly back toward him.
“Let go of me,” I hiss, pressing the tips of my fingernails in deeper to drive home my point.
He releases his grip on one of my shoulders, and drapes his other arm loosely over my it and across my collarbone, re
sting his hand on top of mine.
The sensation of his skin against mine sends tiny electrical impulses fluttering through me, and I sway further back into his chest. I’m frozen in the moment, as I struggle to find the courage to yank away from his semi-menacing embrace. Damn him and this whole situation. The sound of his breathing mesmerizes me as he inhales and exhales deeply, nestling his nose in my hair. The scent of his cologne reminds me of our intimate time together and I want to scream, but I don’t utter a sound or move.
Jovan tightens his hand around my fingers, slowly prying my fingernails out of his skin. He increases the pressure of his force until my fingers tingle with numbness, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s hurting me.
“I told you to leave,” he says, breaking away from me.
“Your first mistake was thinking you could tell me what to do.” My words come out stilted and cold as I turn to face him.
“No, my little broken sparrow,” he smirks. “My first mistake was stopping you from jumping off the balcony.”
“How can you say that to me after what I told you about my mother?” A sharp stabbing pain hits me in the center of my chest and I shake my head slightly in disbelief. I try to will the pain away and glare at him, but the sadness wins out, and my eyes well up with tears.
Jovan inhales quickly, and his mouth parts as if he wants to say something, then he glances down at the floor.
I refuse to let the tears spill out of my eyes, refuse to be weak in front of him. I lean in close and whisper to him, “You’re a coward,” using words spoken in a sacred moment of trust to try and wound me.”
Hi gaze lifts, fierce and strong, “You’re one to talk, Lana. You used a sacred moment to spew lies about my father to try and wound me.”
“Big important Royal trying to sound all intelligent and twist my words back against me. Fuck you.” I curl my fists into tight balls out of frustration.
“Spoken like a true intellect. The ever impressive ‘fuck you’ comes out of your mouth once again.”
”Don’t try to belittle me,” I hiss, poking my finger in his chest. My gaze darts around the room, “Jacob Daniels is guilty—”
“Lana! I see you’ve met my cousin,” Meribelle says, startling me.
“Meribelle,” Jovan says in a tight voice.
‘Yes, he was just filling me in on his father and showing me his portrait,” I say, and toss a sneer at Jovan when his cousin isn’t looking. “Please, tell me everything about him. I’d love to get to know more about my sponsor.” I flick a wicked little smile at Jovan.
For a moment, I feel a twinge of guilt snake into my mind. His eyes don’t truly hide the sadness he tries so desperately to cover with a nonchalant gaze in front of Meribelle.
Everyone meanders to their prospective seats, and I head toward Jovan’s table with Meribelle. Despite myself, I glance back at him, and inwardly admit he strikes a chord in my heart. The angle of his face accentuates his sharp jawline and high cheekbones. His form-fitting black suit hugs his body in all the right places. He tilts his head to meet my gaze. His emerald-green tie matches the hue of his eyes perfectly.
I offer him a small frown, an honest glimpse into my feelings for him, and to my surprise, he gives me one in return. His hair hangs over to the side and sways when he moves his head, like the wings of a raven soaring in flight. Jovan nervously runs his hands over the shorn sides of his hair, but doesn’t pull his eyes from me.
It’s our most honest moment since we’ve found out the horrible truth. I want time to stand still, to linger in this unspoken admission between us, but Meribelle tugs my arm and I turn away. My bottom lip trembles as I head for my seat, I turn back around desperate to silently communicate again, but several kids mill about in the distance between us, filling in the void and choking out our connection.
Red hot anger makes every cell in my body bristle as I go to sit down and Jasmine has her skanky ass planted in Meribelle’s chair, and Gina sits firmly anchored in mine. Meribelle has a confused look on her face, but I know the deal.
“Dr. Clair changed the seating. She felt you would be a bigger inspiration to Miranda and Joyce and switched you over to the far table,” Jasmine lies to Meribelle.
My blood is boiling, and after everything that happened today, I am ready to explode, but won’t give Jasmine the satisfaction.
“That’s fine,” Meribelle says in her usual upbeat tone.
I will my stride to be casual and easy as we find our places at our new table. It isn’t lost on me that Jasmine has me seated to get a bird’s-eye view of her and Jovan.
As the last of the staff and kids take their seats, Jovan saunters over towards his seat with his head down as if he already knows in advance where he’ll be seated. Confusion splays across his face and his jaw clamps shut tight spreading his lips into a thin line. He abruptly stops, as his gaze darts around systematically searching the tables until his gaze reaches mine.
Anger blazes from his eyes and he jerks his chair out harshly. Steve and Blue scurry to the table giggling, until Blue realizes I’m not sitting next to her.
I pick at my dinner as we make small talk, telling each other bits and pieces about our goals at AVA, and soaking up the knowledge of Meribelle and the other Shadows at the table. Jasmine clasps Jovan’s arm and leans into him, and I watch him tense up and jerk away from her. I can’t stand the sight of her flirting with him, and I excuse myself to sneak outside for a cigarette.
I take a few hard drags and let the smoke flow out of my lungs.
“Hey, Lana, wanna share that?” Tommy’s voice startles me and I almost jump out of my skin.
‘You scared the crap out of me!” I scold him. Usually I’m not quite so jumpy, but after the altercations with Jovan, my body and mind are on heightened-awareness status. I pass the cigarette to Tommy and he greedily pulls the smoke into his lungs.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says as smoke billows from his mouth.
“Thank you.” I blush a little and fidget with his tie. “Here, let me fix this for you,” I say, leaning in closer to his body.
“I never could tie one of these correctly,” he admits, and we both laugh.
“What are you doing Honoree?” Jovan spews the word ‘Honoree’ out of his mouth as if he’s a drill sergeant and the word connotes something dirty.
“We’re just have a smoke,” I spit out.
“I apologize. It won’t happen again,” Tommy offers.
“Go inside,” Jovan demands. “Don't let it happen again.”
“Yes sir.” Tom says, and hurries back into the dinner.
Yes sir!
A cold chill causes me to shudder as it passes through me and I rub my arms for warmth. I glare at Jovan, but say nothing.
“Why did you change the seating arrangements? So you can corrupt Meribelle’s mind too? Like you’re doing with Tommy—trying to get me jealous.”
A maniacal laugh flows out of me. “Jealous? That's a joke for sure. I don’t care what you feel. And, just for the record, I didn’t change anything. Why don’t you ask your skank hoe who changed the seating arrangement? And while I’m at it, what do you think you’re doing bossing people around like you're the king of this place.” I yank another cigarette out of my purse, but Jovan knocks it out of my hand.
“Like I'm the king of this place? I am the fucking king if this place, so get used to it.” His eyes bore into me as he strides closer backing me into the bushes.
“Why don’t I ask my skank hoe?” He jerks me close to his chest, forcing my chin upward to meet his gaze, and holding me in place easily with his one arm wrapped tightly around my waist. “I am asking my skank hoe.” He sneers. “You ready to go at it again? Skank. Hoe.”
Those hateful words cut me like he is slicing my heart open with a knife. I say nothing. I don’t fight or protest. My body is limp, defeated. Jovan knows all the right buttons to push to render me defenseless.
My catatonic state evokes someth
ing inside him. He releases the crushing grip he has on me, and wraps a protective arm around me. “Go home, Lana, before we destroy each other with hateful words.”
In this moment I know for sure, I can never have anything with Jovan again. The devastation of that thought, of his father taking Jovan from me too, causes me to break down. I linger in his arms, because I know it will be the last time.
I will never feel his touch or his breath on my skin.
His lips on mine.
“I’m not a skank hoe.” I whisper. “I’m not a skank hoe,” I say louder and say it again louder still. “I never even kissed anyone before you.” My admission is almost inaudible.
“I know,” he admits in a low whisper.
But it’s too late.
All the rage and all the fury I feel toward his father, and now him, blazes hot inside me and spills out in a furious attack.
“I’m not a skank hoe.” I shove him away from me and slap his face hard.
I don’t care if he attacks me, I’ll kick and claw till the death to stand up for my honor and the truth.
But he does nothing—just stands there taking my assault.
So many tears are running down my face, I can't breathe, and wipe my runny nose on the sleeve of my dress.
“And your father did those things. He Did. Bad. Things. To. Me. Do you hear me.” I’m straining my voice to quietly scream my truths at him.
Jovan closes his eyes and breathes weary, deep, slow breaths.
“I know you hear me, and in your heart, you know he’s capable.” I desperately want him to acknowledge my pain is real and not a ploy to milk his family out of money. In truth, I want him to admit he believes me, even if he can’t accept his father is the culprit… but he doesn’t. “We’ll never get past this Jovan, so leave me alone. And if I want to talk to Tommy I will. I don’t need your permission.”
He pops his eyes open. “Stay away from him, Lana.” His jaw twitches at a fast pace.
“Or what? You’ll get him kicked out? Just try it and I’ll shout it from the rooftops that your father is a child molester.”