by Danica Avet
“Hey, man, what’re you, lost or somethin’?” Princess asks with a laugh.
I glance in the room he just stepped out of. “You seen that Hungarian?” Who isn’t a Hungarian. I shake the thought off because that doesn’t matter.
Princess’s laughter dies and he studies me intently. “No. He hasn’t been around all day. Why?”
Fuck.
Turning on my heel, I decide to ask Jolene where Josef lives. The coward is probably gonna hide out until the expo.
“Hey, what’s up? What do you want with that shithead?” Princess asks, falling into step next to me.
My lips tighten and I shake my head. I like Princess. He’s a cool dude, but this is my business. The less he knows about it, the better. Because I know Josef’s gonna report me. He’ll call the cops, or campus security depending on where he is when I catch up to him. It’ll mean academic probation at the very least. Expulsion at the very worst. But is it really such a sacrifice if it means teaching him a lesson? He’s planning to hurt Jolene in the worst way and he’s gonna do it in full view of our peers.
Princess grabs my shoulder and spins me around to face him. “Dude, I don’t know what’s goin’ on in that head of yours, but whatever it is you’re plannin’, you can’t do it.”
“Fuck off. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say with a shrug to remove his hand from my shoulder.
His eyebrows fly upward in astonishment. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this pissed, even with that bullshit Bryce tried to pull with Jolene,” he says wonderingly. Then understanding lights in his eyes. “Josef said somethin’ about her? He’s not worth it, man. He’s always talkin’ shit about someone or something. We just ignore him.”
That’s right. He’s in art classes with Josef. I pin him in place with a glare. “You seen his expo piece?”
His expression is thoughtful, but he shakes his head. “No. He’s been pretty fuckin’ secretive about it. Wouldn’t let anyone see it. Nancy, the department head, hasn’t even seen more than a few glimpses of it but she said it’s powerful, whatever it is.”
So no one’s seen it in its entirety except for me, Jolene, Terrible, and Josef. That’s a relief. Not sure how Terrible is gonna stop it from showing, but that isn’t my problem right now. Finding Josef is.
“This is about his work,” Princess says slowly. The guy’s a genius, so I’m not surprised he put the pieces together. “Whatever you’re plannin’...” He pauses to shake his head, that fuckin’ hair of his falling into place perfectly. “You go at him with that anger ridin’ you and you’ll end up kicked outta school. He’ll be a victim. Jolene’ll be left here to see him around campus and to deal with whatever mess you leave behind.” I glare at him, because he’s right, but he’s completely unfazed. “Guy like Josef will use any kind of physical attack to play the martyr. The only thing he really gives a shit about is his pride and art. You can’t get to his piece because it’s in lockdown, so if you want to discredit him, you have to go after somethin’ else. And it’s gotta be subtle enough that it can’t blow back on you.”
Something in his words and tone of voice causes my brain to start operating on more than just the primal level. Terrible’s going to handle the actual artwork—if his word is any good. But that isn’t enough. Josef, or whatever his real name is, needs to learn humility. He needs to understand that actions have consequences. Yet Princess is right. Getting my ass booted from school won’t make Jolene feel better.
“Josef is demonstrating his watercolor technique the week after the expo,” a new, accented voice says calmly.
Princess and I turn to see a guy step out of what looks like a supply closet. He sounds familiar, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before. Then again, I don’t haunt the fucking Art Department often. Still, something about him makes me wonder if I may have seen him around campus. Blond hair, green eyes, slim, yet fit. It’s the accent though, that rings the biggest bell.
“Torrent,” Princess greets the other guy. “This is Crash. The one with the room available.”
Right. Now I recognize that voice. I hold out a hand, although I’m impatient to plot my revenge. “Yeah, we spoke on the phone a couple of weeks ago,” I say in greeting.
I completely forgot about it, to be honest. Spending time with Jolene, music, classes, and work have consumed my mind. Despite the fact that Tight’s been gone more and more lately, preparing for the draft, I’ve been so wrapped up in other things, I let the need for a new roommate get pushed to the back of my mind. Or maybe it was deliberate so I wouldn’t feel the loss of Tight so keenly. I feel like I barely know him anymore, but that’s a thought for a later date. Yeah, just not going to think about it.
Torrent shakes my hand, his grip firm and solid. “It is good to meet you in person,” he replies in his clipped German accent. He lowers his arm, his sharp green eyes going between me and Princess. “All painters entering the expo have been asked to hold a demonstration. Josef has said he will do watercolors.”
I shrug because that means nothing to me. “Not sure what I’m supposed to do with that.”
Princess is nodding though, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “He’d be fuckin’ humiliated if the demonstration didn’t go well. It’s all artists entering the contest and some art heavy hitters who are acting as judges for the competition. Isn’t one of them the owner of a gallery in New York?”
“Ja. Yvonne Pascal. She is all Josef has spoken about for two weeks.”
My brain grasps the part about Josef being humiliated. There’s something… “Why are you telling us this?” I ask Torrent, not entirely trusting him. Josef might not be Hungarian the way I thought, but I don’t get why a complete stranger would be interested in helping me get revenge on the little fucker.
Torrent squints at me knowingly. “Josef is der Arschloch.” No idea what that means, but I can kind of guess. “I have had my clashes with him. I do not know what he did to you, but he needs to be brought down a notch.” His lips curl in a smile. “Besides, this would be a good way to build a bond with you, ja? Maybe even convince you I would be a good roommate?”
I study him closely. It could be a bad idea to trust anything he says, but there’s a steadfastness about him that makes me think he wouldn’t fuck me over. “What do you suggest?”
Princess rubs his hands together. “Ever heard of Ultra Dry?” he asks me with a twinkle in his eyes.
Torrent whistles admiringly. “That would be unfortunate for him.”
Glancing between the two, I arch an eyebrow. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”
“Josef gets his canvases shipped from somewhere already gessoed,” Princess says, laughing at my baffled expression. “They’re already prepared for watercolor to be applied. We snag one of his special canvases, apply a coat of Ultra Dry—which is a water-repellent coating—and anything he tries to paint on it will just roll off.”
Torrent nods sagely. “He will not understand why it is happening, only that he cannot impress Yvonne Pascal.”
I picture the scene in my mind and feel my first smile in hours start to brim. It’s not exactly what I originally thought of when I planned revenge, but I like it.
Then I frown. “No, it’s not enough,” I mutter, then recall the information Terrible shared with me and Jolene. “He’s from Boston. And he perms his hair.” The other two share surprised looks. “Yeah, no fuckin’ clue why he’d create this whole persona, but I know someone who might be able to help us fine-tune this prank.”
Although it’s more than just a prank. I should feel guilt for what we’re planning to do, but I can’t find it in myself to give a shit. The painting he plans to show? That killed any sympathy I might’ve felt for the dickwad for losing Jolene. Having to choose between her broken heart and humiliation and Josef’s embarrassment is easy. I’ll pick her over anyone else every single, fucking time.
Jolene
A week later
I’m a bundle of nerves as Levi and
I enter the Cortez Hall gallery. We got here as soon as the doors opened, watching as people flood the room. Students carrying their signature slips, faculty and staff dressed up and talking in some high-brow art lingo I’ll never understand, and regular citizens from LaSalle have all arrived to see the entries for the Art Expo.
My gaze flits from cloth-draped frames and objects, skipping over faces I don’t recognize, searching for Josef. And Terrible. I’ve prayed more in the last five days than I have in my entire life. Prayed that Terrible fulfills his promise to me, prayed that Josef changes his mind about showing the painting, and I prayed that if neither of the first two things happen, that Levi won’t be embarrassed by me.
Speaking of which, he squeezes my hand, pulling my attention away from my frantic search to his warm eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs with a brush of his lips over my forehead. “Trust me.”
“Of course I trust you,” I tell him in all honesty. “I just don’t trust Terrible.”
He doesn’t say anything, although he keeps smiling. He’s been doing that since the night we found out about the painting, as though he has a secret. I’ve tried finding out what he knows, but he just keeps telling me to be patient.
“Let’s go find a good spot,” he suggests, giving my arm a tug.
We move through the crowd as a unit. If anything good came of the last week, it’s brought Levi and me even closer together. Sort of the way Lena and Root were brought together. You learn a lot about someone based on how they handle adversity. This past week has shown me Levi will stand by my side no matter what, that he’ll love me despite my upbringing, and he’ll fight for me. That reminder is enough to kindle the familiar warmth in my chest that I always feel when I think about him, how lucky I am to have him in my life.
Lacing my fingers through his, I smile up at him when he glances my way. “Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?”
Because he is. There isn’t a dress code for the Austin Dubois Art Competition, but we’d both opted to wear something a grade above casual. I went for a modest knee length black skirt, a pink blouse, and a shrug, while Levi’s wearing a pair of black slacks, a red polo shirt, and dress shoes. Now I’ve seen Levi in nothing but a smile, which is one of my favorite looks for him, but this… Looking at him, seeing the way the polo clings to his muscles, makes my heart flutter and a warm, liquid sensation fill my lower stomach.
He smirks at me and that feeling intensifies. “I can feel you undressin’ me with your eyes,” he murmurs as he leads me past a group of students I recognize from my Fine Arts Appreciation class.
My face goes up in flames because yes, I am mentally undressing him and I can’t deny it. His chuckle is dark and intimate. A thrill goes through me at the sound, even though my brain knows now isn’t the time to think sexy thoughts.
Forcing myself to look away from him, I concentrate on our surroundings. I see a familiar head of blonde hair and stumble, only Levi’s grip on my hand keeping me from landing on the floor in a heap. That’s Lena. Another blond head, this one with much shorter hair, joins her. Root. My heart starts pounding and I almost turn around, but Levi tows me forward, jostling his way through the crowd.
And there they are.
Lena, Root, Nessie, Becca, Cube, Savage, and even Tight are clustered together talking.
“Levi?” I ask in a high-pitched voice that betrays the panic strumming through my veins.
He squeezes my hand. “Babe, they’re your friends,” he says softly, confidently. “They want to be here for you no matter what.”
I’m scared. I made a choice not to tell my friends about what was happening because I didn’t want them to worry and in Becca’s case, I didn’t want her to go off half-cocked and vowing vengeance. Levi talked to me about it several times and I thought he gave up on me letting them in on what was going on, but apparently I was wrong.
“I’m so mad I could spit,” I whisper at him.
“I’ll make it up to you,” is his reply just as Becca sees us approaching.
She charges through the crowd like a mini-bullet and launches herself at me. The hug knocks Levi’s hand out of mine, but I’m too worried with being able to breathe to pay much attention.
“I’m pissed at you,” she mutters, giving me another squeeze. “We all are.”
Nessie and Lena have followed her over, both of them looking at me with varying expressions of hurt and disappointment. My heart sinks.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t want y’all to worry about me.”
“Bitch, we’re your friends. Sisters from other misters,” Becca shoots back, pulling away only to glare at me. “You’re supposed to tell us everything so we can decide how to fix the problem. Personally, I’m thinking Josef isn’t using the right shampoo. I have every intention of giving him a bottle of my special mixture which includes a very strong depilatory.”
Considering how vain Josef is about his—apparently permed—hair, has me letting out a watery chuckle. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell y’all.”
Becca steps back with Nessie and Lena flanking her. “Just as long as you don’t do it again. Otherwise, I’ll have to resort to extreme—” Her gaze goes over my shoulder and her eyes widen with delight. “Nanny!”
She pushes past me, tackle-hugging a woman wearing a sedate skirt suit.
Nessie and Lena hug me as well, assuring me it’s okay. The guys give me chin lifts, sparking affection for them in me. They’re all here. All of the people I consider my friends, although I’m honestly shocked to see Tight. He’s never been particularly close to any of us girls. Friendly, yes, but with all the hype and expectations surrounding his upcoming move to the pros, he’s more like a legend than a friend. Besides, he’s been gone so much lately, he’s almost like a ghost. Someone we all used to know, but who just…went away without a trace. Still, it heartens me to see him, even if he’s really just here for Levi.
Lena’s hug is especially long, probably because she’s had her own drama to deal with. Is dealing with. “I understand,” she whispers with a small smile. “And can I just say… I told you so?”
I frown. “What?”
Nessie rolls her eyes. “Shit. She’s been saying that ever since Crash told us what was going on. ‘Didn’t I tell you Crash was just looking for the right band chick? Didn’t I tell you that?’” She mimics Lena’s voice almost perfectly.
My cheeks heat. “Well, she did.”
“And she was right,” Levi inserts as he slips his arm around my waist, the guys joining us.
A squeal sounds, drawing our attention to the reunion taking place a few feet away. Becca is bouncing on her heels, continuing to hug the woman whose smile is bright and loving, although much more reserved. From what my friend has said about her cousin, I sort of expected someone who acted and looked like Becca, but while Mallory has the same dark hair and minimal height, she’s rounder, softer, and much calmer. Which only seems to highlight Becca’s exuberance.
“She looks like a rabid Chihuahua,” Root mutters as he takes his place next to Lena.
“Be nice,” Lena chides softly. “She and Mallory are close.”
“They were,” Nessie corrects. We all look over at her questioningly. She shrugs. “Aunt Mallory moved away several years ago, moved around a lot. She didn’t come home much, so it’s been awhile since any of us have seen her.”
That doesn’t seem to dampen Becca’s enthusiasm as she grabs Mallory’s hand and drags her over to us. “Y’all,” she chirps. “This is my cousin and Nanny, Mallory. Mallory, this is the gang!”
“It’s nice to meet y’all,” she says calmly. “Sorry I’m late, I was comin’ in but got caught up in some drama in the hallway.” She frowns and looks around. “One of the volunteers misplaced a painting…” Her gaze clears. “Ah, okay, looks they found it.”
Following the direction of her gaze, I see her looking at a cloth-draped frame. Standing next to the secret artwork is Josef. My heart seizes as reality comes
crashing down on me. Curly hair pulled back in a barely there man-bun, he looks the way he always does when he’s showing his work. His velour poet’s shirt is open to the middle of his chest and tucked in the front of his brown corduroy skinny pants. Now that I’ve seen the movie The Doors, I see how he’s styling himself after Jim Morrison.
But that isn’t what makes my hands shake. He’s staring right at me with a hateful sneer on his thin face. His pale skin is flushed with his temper and his brown eyes boring holes right through me. I’ve had people dislike me before. A whole town of people show their contempt for me, but I’ve never had so much hate directed at me the way it is now.
We stare at each other from across the room, people passing between us in an ebb and flow that only increases the tension in my body. So many people here to see what he’s done. If Terrible didn’t do what he said he would.
Levi cups my chin, turning my face toward him, breaking off my staring contest with Josef. When I look up at him, he brushes a gentle kiss over my lips.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers, his eyes dark with love and fury. Oh, I see it clear as day. He’s madder than a hornet because of this whole situation, but he keeps his cool. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I breathe, although not even our love can ease the horror causing every muscle in my body to tighten until I feel as though I’ll snap.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Becca mutters.
“You’re not supposed to voice your criminal intentions,” Mallory says calmly. “I taught you better than that.”
Curiosity almost has me looking over at her in shock, but I can’t. Not with the unveiling about to happen.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please,” a voice calls out over a PA system, and quiets the chatter in the room. “Thank you. I want to welcome you all to the Eighth Annual Austin Dubois Art Competition. This show is not only a contest that will result in one lucky artist winning the chance to show at the Pascal Gallery in New York City, but it’s also a chance for Sauvage State University to showcase its talented students.”