by Wendi Wilson
Running really did suck.
“So, I’m having a hard time deciding on a plan for Isla and Amelia,” I huffed out. “I’d originally thought doing something to embarrass them publicly and knock them off their high horses would be enough, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What do you have in mind?” Josh asked, his voice clear and strong.
“How are you not dying right now?” I shot back, my eyes wide. “I can barely breathe, much less speak, and you’ve not even broken a sweat.”
“Stamina, baby,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and pumping a fist in the air.
I shook my head as my breathing grew harsher. “You suck.”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” he chirped back, and a bark of laughter burst from my burning chest.
“Anyway,” I drawled, “I think I need to do something to break up that group of girls. Charlotte is too cocky and still being a bitch to me every time she sees me. I’d decided she’d had enough, with the Randall Walsely video and her publicized confession, but I’m reconsidering that decision.”
“So, what are you thinking?”
“I don’t have anything solid yet, but I need to break up the Roguettes. If I can manipulate Amelia and Isla into turning their backs on Charlotte, leaving her alone with no minions and them floundering with no leader, all three will be easy pickings.”
I lifted my hands and shot finger pistols at each of them, who were slowly falling behind the rest of the pack to a position just ahead of us. I smirked at the fact that the golden girls weren’t any better than me at physical activity.
“You scare me sometimes,” Josh mumbled.
I elbowed him in the ribs, my unexpected move making him grunt.
“You’re lucky I love you,” I quipped.
“I know I am,” he replied, his voice turning serious.
I skidded to a halt, bracing my hands on my knees as I took quick, shallow breaths. Realizing he lost me, Josh turned and jogged back, stopping in front of me.
“You okay?” he asked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I grunt. “I wasn’t made for running.”
He laughed and linked his arm around mine, pulling me forward. He kept our pace at a moderate walk, for which I was grateful.
I was also grateful the sullen expression had left his face, and he had returned to his usual, happy-chatty self. Joshua Fairbanks had been my rock in the chaos and pain that was Everly Prep, and I intended to return the favor.
5
“Hey, honey. How was school?”
Mom’s chipper voice greeted me as I stepped into the kitchen. I looked toward the sound and found her in front of the granite-topped island, arranging fresh flowers in a large vase.
“Fine,” I replied, my voice bland. “Do we have any potato chips?”
“Check the pantry,” she said, eyeing the red roses while strategically filling the gaps with sprigs of baby’s breath.
“Who died?” I asked as I emerged from the pantry, junk food in hand.
“What?”
I waved a hand toward the flower arrangement, saying “Looks like a bouquet you’d send to a grieving widow.”
“Chastity Ann Miller, it most certainly does not!”
Her defensive response made me laugh, and before I could push her buttons any further, Atticus joined us in the kitchen.
“What’s all the ruckus about in here?”
“Chaz doesn’t like my flowers,” she pouted, sticking out her bottom lip.
“Well, I think they are gorgeous, just like you,” he growled, nuzzling his face against her neck.
Her squeal turned into a giggle that mingled with the growling noises he was making. I waited for the nausea I was sure would come, but never did. My mom was happy. I couldn’t be anything other than happy for her.
Despite all the fuckery his son and the rest of the Rogues had engaged in, Atticus was decent and good. I’d witnessed evidence of his kindness and generosity since Mom and I moved in, and he’d shown nothing but pure devotion to her. And, in a lesser sense, to me.
“Okay, well,” I said, clearing my throat to get their attention, “I’m meeting a friend at Barney’s later tonight, but I’ll be here for dinner.”
“Okay, honey,” Mom giggled, pulling out of her husband’s embrace. “Dinner’s at seven. We’re having enchiladas.”
I nodded with a smile that grew as I left the kitchen and headed for the stairs. I was sure Atticus and Seth were used to fancy silver and even fancier culinary creations, but Mom loved the simpler things and refused to eat tiny cuts of meat with what looked like weeds sticking out of them. She insisted on hearty, home-cooked meals…even if she wasn’t the one doing the cooking.
I closed my bedroom door behind me and locked it before sprawling out on my bed to stare at my phone. I read and re-read my revenge list, silently tossing around ideas that would bring my plan to fruition.
A tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered words of disdain, telling me I should let bygones be bygones and just move on with my life. I told that bitch to shut the fuck up and mind her own business.
I couldn’t let them just get away with what they’d done to me. I needed to even the score.
And right here in my home was the best place to start.
I stared at Seth’s name as a plan started to form, taking a few notes from what the assholes had done to me last semester. A malicious grin curved my lips as I worked out the finer details. This was going to work. And it was going to be epic.
I kept myself locked in my room the rest of the afternoon, finishing up some homework before showering and dressing for my meet-up with Stella. At six-forty-five, I crept to the door and unlocked it before opening it a crack and poking my head out.
The hall was empty, so I slipped from my room and down the steps as soundlessly as possible. My heart pounded in my chest as adrenaline spiked through me. The danger of getting caught was quite the rush, and I found myself feeling exhilarated.
I crept into the kitchen to find a large casserole dish resting on the stovetop. Gooey cheese, jalapenos, and black olives created the top layer over rolled tortillas filled with beef and cheese and a spicy red sauce. It smelled divine.
“What are you doing in here?”
The deep, yet feminine voice scared the shit out of me, and I nearly leapt out of my shoes.
“Jesus, Holly, you scared me,” I panted, a palm pressed against my chest in an attempt to keep my frantically beating heart inside.
The Kincaid’s personal chef watched me with her brown eyes narrowed like she was trying to suss out the truth by sheer will. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, as usual, with not a single strand out of place. She propped her hands on her full hips, but still didn’t speak.
“The enchiladas smell delicious,” I stuttered before flinching at the nervous tension I could hear in my voice.
“Thank you,” Holly replied, looking no less stern than before.
I had to figure out a way to soften her up, or I’d never be able to move ahead with my plans.
“Can I help you serve?” I asked.
“Why?”
Her eyes narrowed even further, deepening the crow’s feet around the outer edges. Jesus, she was one suspicious lady. Obviously, she had good reason to be suspicious in this particular situation, but that was beside the point.
The key was finding common ground, and as an idea hit me, I tried like hell to keep my face solemn.
“I’m not used to all this,” I said, waving a hand around to indicate the whole Kincaid mansion. “I’ve just been feeling at odds, being waited on by the staff twenty-four-seven. I mean, I’m not ungrateful, and having someone clean my room and wash my clothes has been heaven, but…”
I trailed off, crossing my fingers that she’s take the bait and run with it.
“It’s left you feeling a little useless?” she asked, her features softening.
“Yes,” I agreed softly while my mind was doing backflips in joy.
“I just want to help out a little, and I thought serving dinner to my new family would give me some satisfaction.”
The double-meaning of those words nearly made me laugh, but I managed to hold it together and keep my expression pleading. If I could pull this off, I’d get plenty of satisfaction…just not in the same way I was leading Holly to believe.
“I understand, and I commend you for it, Miss Chastity.”
My lips tightened at her use of my name, but I didn’t try to correct her. I’d already done so on multiple occasions, but she refused to call me Chaz. It wasn’t proper and she thrived on propriety…and creating delectable dishes. I was sure my mother’s insistence that she prepare casseroles and pans of meatloaf was a little bit soul-crushing to Holly, so I let the name thing slide.
And if she let me serve dinner on my own tonight, she could call me whatever the hell she wanted until the end of time.
“Plates are there,” she said, pointing at a stack of dishes on the counter. “I just finished laying out the silverware, so all you’ll need to do is plate and serve the enchiladas. Then you can clear the table when everyone has finished eating.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to smile and nod. I’d planned on making a hasty escape as soon as dinner was finished, but in order to keep up the façade that I wanted to be useful, I simply nodded and thanked Holly for allowing me to help.
She returned the gesture and left the kitchen, leaving me alone with the steaming pan of gooey goodness. I pulled the small baggie from where I stashed it in my pocket earlier, a maniacal grin tightening across my face as I held it up and stared at the capsules inside.
Grabbing a plate, I dished out a healthy portion of enchiladas and set it aside. I opened the baggie and pulled out a capsule. Holding it over the plate, I pulled the two halves apart, letting the medicine inside sprinkle over the food. I repeated the process two more times, hoping it would be enough to get the results I wanted.
I scraped a little of the extra sauce from the casserole dish and ladled it over the top, hiding any evidence of what I’d done. Satisfied with the result, I set the plate off to the side and dished out three more servings. Carefully placing all three on a silver serving cart, I wheeled it into the dining room where Mom and the Kincaid men were waiting.
“Bon appetite,” I murmured as I set Seth’s plate in front of him.
He shot me a funny look, like he couldn’t believe I was being civil and was wary of my motives. He was right to be.
I bit the inside of my cheek and kept my eyes on my plate as everyone started eating and Seth groaned with pleasure. I hoped he enjoyed the food.
Because later, he’d live to regret taking a single fucking bite.
6
Barney’s was a quaint establishment, with black and white checkered floors and a long wooden bar lined with several black vinyl-upholstered barstools. I spotted Stella’s strawberry-blonde head as I pulled open the glass door and strolled inside.
She caught my eye and waved, then patted the stool next to her. As I climbed onto the seat, she pushed a milkshake in a large glass topped with whipped cream in front of me.
“I hope you like cookie dough,” she said, taking a long drag of her own shake.
“My favorite,” I said, mumbling my thanks as I fought to suck the thick liquid through the red straw.
We sat in silence for several moments, enjoying our frosty treats before Stella spoke.
“How are your classes going?”
“Fine,” I replied, arching a brow at her. “Is that why you asked me here? To talk about school?”
“Maybe I just wanted to hang out with my friend,” she shot back, stressing the last word.
And…I felt like a giant asshole.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
She set her shake down with a sigh before pinning me with her bright blue gaze. I barely managed to hold her stare with her eyes looking so much like Mason’s. A bolt of pain streaked through my chest, but I ignored it.
“You had to know I asked you here to talk about this vendetta you have against us.”
“Not you,” I said. “You evened the score. In fact, you helped so much, I probably owe you.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then you can pay me back by dropping this and moving on with your life.”
“I’m sorry, Stella. I just can’t do that.”
She sighed again and turned away, taking another long drink of her shake. I watched her for a few seconds, then turned to face the bar and my own drink. We sipped in silence for a while before Stella’s voice broke the silence between us.
“It’s not entirely the boys’ fault,” she murmured, so low I almost didn’t hear it. “There’s more going on—more at stake—than you know.”
Her words reminded me of something I’d heard before while I was hidden from the Rogues and Roguettes, filming the confession of their dark deeds through a grate between two classrooms.
“Nothing? What do you mean nothing?” Charlotte screamed. “We can’t let her get away with this.”
“We can, and we will,” Mason said. “We’ve hurt her enough already. Let this go, Charlotte.”
“Mason,” Cooper said, his face devoid of its usual smile, “you can’t blame yourself for—”
Cooper had been cut off by Charlotte’s banshee scream, so I never found out why Mason sounded repentant and Cooper thought he should be absolved of all guilt. I forgot about it in light of the evidence I’d caught—it was enough to clear my name and prove they’d edited and uploaded that video.
“So, tell me,” I said to Stella, pulling myself out of the past. “If you explain everything, maybe I’ll change my mind.”
“I can’t,” she replied, her voice dropping into sadness. “I wish I could, because I know if I did, you’d understand.”
“And forgive them?” I barked, instantly regretting my snarky tone.
Stella didn’t deserve that. She was only trying to make peace. I shot her an apologetic smile, and the one she returned was tainted by sadness.
“I don’t know if you’d forgive them,” she said. “Hell, I don’t know if I’d forgive them if it was me. But I do believe you would feel some compassion for their circumstances and maybe show some mercy.”
I nodded, not really sure if I agreed with her assessment or not. I didn’t know if there was any compassion left inside me to give. Not to them.
“Do you trust me?” she asked locking gazes with me so I couldn’t dodge the question.
“Yeah, I think I do,” I answered honestly.
“Then trust me on this. If you push them too far, not even the Rogues of Everly Prep will be able to save you.”
With that, she dropped a twenty dollar bill on the counter, hopped down from her stool, and walked out the front door. I watched her go, confusion rendering me speechless and immobile.
Why did her phrasing make it sound like the “them” she spoke of didn’t include Mason and the guys? Was she talking about Charlotte and her cronies? Somehow, I didn’t think so.
The moaning was loud enough that I heard it as soon as I walked through the front door. I checked the time on my phone, seeing it was nearly ten, and smiled. It had been about three hours since dinner, and it appeared I was right on time.
I hopped up the stairs and stood at the end of the hall. The groans were loud and perfectly audible, so I held up my phone, pulled up the camera app, and tapped the video icon. Taking care to hold my phone steady, I walked down the hall toward Seth’s closed bedroom door.
I focused the camera on my hand as I reached for the door handle, twisted it, and swung the panel open. The well-oiled hinges didn’t squeak, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Seth wouldn’t have heard anything over the sounds that were coming from both ends of his body.
I cringed as the stench hit me, but powered through it and kept moving forward. Seth groaned again just before a boom of flatulence echoed from his open bathroom door. The resulting splattering sound made me gag
, and I took a step back, ready to flee the room.
I steeled my spine, forcing myself forward. I put the colon cleanser in Seth’s food for a reason, and it wasn’t to help his digestive tract. No, this was step one of my revenge plan for him, and I needed to see it through.
Guilt tried to creep up my spine as his moans turned more pathetic, and it sounded like he might actually be crying. I prayed to anyone listening that I hadn’t given him too much. If he had to take a trip to emergency room, I’d have to fess up to what I’d done, and that would just be uncomfortable for everyone.
I stopped beside the door, moving my phone so that the camera was angled up toward the ceiling. Slowly, I panned down, keeping an eye on the screen while keeping myself out of sight. Once Seth’s face and bare chest appeared on the screen, I held the phone still to record his agony.
I wanted to embarrass him with that footage, but I had no plans to catch his nakedness on video. I didn’t want to see his bare ass covered in shit, and I was sure no one else did, either. Stuff like that was best left to the imagination.
I focused on the screen, and it was clear that Seth was crying, with tears and snot flying everywhere as he groaned and farted.
I honestly felt a little bit like a monster in that moment. What had I become? What had I let them turn me into?
What seemed like a harmless, if somewhat juvenile, prank before now seemed cruel and ruthless. I snatched my phone back and stopped recording before tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door softly behind me.
I dashed to my own room, slamming and locking the door behind me before chucking my phone onto the bed with disgust. I felt like I needed a shower. Maybe ten showers.
Maybe I’d never feel clean again.
I turned the water as hot as I could stand it, stripped out of my clothes, and climbed in under the spray. The image of Seth crying as his body rebelled against him played over and over in my mind as the hot water beat against the top of my head. I’d been so sure of my plan. So sure I was only giving Seth what he deserved.
A little discomfort and the humiliation he’d experience when I decided to post that video on social media were small prices to pay for the part he’d played in trying to destroy me.