“I feel like I’m in a seventeenth century literature novel.”
“That’s a good way to put it… except the author is obviously not Jane Austen.”
“More like Emily Bronte,” I say.
Jordana lightly laughs then becomes crabbed as she sighs, staring at the curtain of the dressing room. “For the love of Ivy, Poppy, please pick a dress.”
Poppy steps out from behind the curtain in a pink puffy dress with her hands on her hips.
“I love all of them,” she says in despair.
“Then buy all of them,” Jordana suggests.
“Daddy says I need to watch my spending.”
“Well, which one is the one you can’t live without?” I ask.
“Well, the Marc Jacobs one is really cute. Then there’s the Vera Wang. Also the Chanel because I have these shoes that will go so well with them,” she thinks to herself. “I’ll just get the top three then.” She giggles and twirls her body.
“Is she always like this?” I whisper to Jordana.
“Yep. I sometimes have to take a Valium to keep my fucking sanity intact.” Jordana combs her fingers through her hair and turns her head. Her eyes are still and I follow her gaze to a girl staring at us in shock before slowly approaching us.
“Jordana,” she says then looks at Poppy. “Weird girl.”
“Margaret Jacobs,” Jordana addresses her. “My, what a lovely surprise.”
“I’m here to find a dress for my father’s charity function.”
Jordana leans back amused. “Really? Your father? Charity? For who? Westboro Baptist Chruch? He does know the hell raisers for the lord think politicians are going to burn in hell with the rest of us, right?”
“No,” she snaps. “To the AIDS research. He wants to find a cure for the people that get tainted by your kind.”
“Seriously?” Jordana laughs it off, but I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Even if I didn’t know that this is Jordana’s secret lover, I would definitely be able to tell that this girl was indeed a muffer by her forced crude remark.
As if she said nothing wrong, she smiles at me so genuinely that it could make me forget that it ever happened.
“Margaret Jacobs.” She stretches out her hand for me to shake.
“Juliet Spears.”
“Oh!” Her eyes light up. “The daughter of Charles and Jessica Spears. Your family is known for their great contribution to the growing society in the United Kingdom, especially your father’s wonderful work under her Majesty.” It sounds like she read this shit off a brochure or something
“Yes, they are very wonderful,” I say nervously.
“You’ll be attending Columbia, right?”
“Yes, where do you go to school?”
“Sarah Lawrence.”
I hold in my amusement. “Oh, the same as Jordana?”
“Yes.” She glances nervously at Jordana then back at me. “But we run in different social circles.”
“Yes, of course,” Jordana says, staring up and down at the poor girl. “But every once in a while we tend to cross paths.”
Margaret’s eyes yell run and her body stiffens like a Buckingham Palace guard.
“I must be leaving now,” she quickly says.
“But you just got here,” Poppy says passing the sales clerk her gold card.
“And you haven’t looked around enough to see if there is anything you like.” Jordana emphasizes the word like as if it is the definition of sex. It amazes me that everything she and Hugo say is in an effortless seductive tone.
“It doesn’t take me long to figure out what I want. I can sense dreadfulness in a minute,” Margaret sneers at Jordana then smiles back at me. “Juliet, lovely to meet you. I hope this summer we see more of each other at formal events.”
“I look forward to it,” I respond and we watch as she nervously walks out of the store. With my jaw wide, I look at Jordana who is laughing a little. “She came here to see you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, I texted her telling her I had to cancel our quick pillow session. Told her where I was going, knew she would show up.” she sighs in amusement. “I think I’ve driven her mad.”
“So at Sarah Lawrence you two are more than enemies.”
“We live in the same dorm.”
“Knowing you people for only a day tells me that’s not a coincidence.”
“Nope,” Poppy giggles and sits on the couch with us, excited to share the origin story. “In high school, Jordana always flirted with Margaret and prom night Margaret snapped and finally awoke the sexual beast within her.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“We had sex in a limo and of course she freaked out, declaring that it would never happen again, but once I found out we were attending the same college, I saw the opportunity,” Jordana informs.
“You get off on driving her into a stalker?” I ask.
“I like to think I am giving back to all the queers, lesbians, and minorities by screwing the daughter of the future Republican candidate for the United States Presidency.”
“My dad hates him by the way,” I tell them. “He is absurd if he thinks he can win an election in this day and age with views like that.”
“Absurd is right, but Steven Jacobs has always been an idiot. He claims he isn’t a racist yet talks bout the minorities’ natural genetic mentality to be barbaric when it comes to riots due to them not getting over the past of being oppressed and their current circumstances. Also he believes that gay people have a mental disorder. He’s actually donating to a study conducted on it. He’s a fucking piece of shit and if it gets out that his daughter catches for the other team, it would obliterate him.”
“And that’s what you want to do?”
“I’m not that cruel.”
“I think she actually likes Margaret,” Poppy insists.
“I agree,” I say, grinning at Jordana. She looks away trying to hide the truth, but I see it. She’s got it bad.
“Can we go now?” she asks, stopping our intrusion into her emotions.
Already, the bad seeds of Manhattan society amaze me. Jordana is clearly a girl who knows who she is but carries with the cool vibe that lacks vulnerability. Poppy’s a girl in her own world much like August except she genuinely is rainbows and butterflies. She chooses to block out all the bad and embrace the good and if she has to use drugs and sex to do it, she will. Cody’s more to be studied, but if my prediction is correct he’s about order and not taking chances and doing what he is told, like most kids. And Hugo, well he is indeed a cold one. His vulnerability shows through his ability to block all emotion. He has the gift of staying flat. No up or down for him, only in the middle. One thing I do know exists between all of them. They all long, even if secretly, they long to be loved like of the rest of the world.
HUGO
I long for nothing but for her to shut up.
“Do you think the Pope has sex?” Darla Sanchez, daughter of Carlos Sanchez—oil tycoon from Texas—is known for random questions just like Poppy.
“If he doesn’t, I can’t imagine how he believes in God,” I say as I flip the channels of her television.
“What if he only does oral? As long as it’s not intercourse, he should be straight, right?”
I glance at her with a blank expression on my face, hoping she’s only kidding. She is still looking at me with that wide-eyed look. “Yeah, I gotta go.” I stand up from her bed and begin searching for my clothes.
“Why do you have to go?” She’s whining. I hate it when they whine.
I grab my pants and shirt and face her.
“Because I want to.” I buckle my pants then throw on my shirt.
“Did I do something wrong?” Her sentiment is nauseating.
“You seriously need to stop taking things so personally, Darla.” I grab my watch and look her in the eyes, brushing my hand through her hair, staring down at her reimagining where her mouth was thirty minutes ago. “No one likes a woman that second guesse
s herself. You were great as usual. I just only enjoy the physical connection of this relationship—you know this. It’s always just me, never you.”
What woman takes this seriously?
Obviously Darla, because she looks up at me now with her sweet, almond-shaped brown eyes and smiles like an imbecile.
SCARLETT
The sound of girls laughing disturbs me when the front door opens. I’ve been sitting here in the living room of my old home, reflecting and now laughter destroys that said peace. I am glad someone other than the help and the idiot twin are here. I see them, Jordana Abbott and Poppy Montgomery. Still the same, lesbian and the moron, but this girl in the hat, tank that states foreigner, ripped shorts, and black heel boots—she, I do not know.
“Scarlett,” Jordana says sharply.
“Hello, Jordana,” I grin and stand up. “Poppy.”
“Hi Scarlett!” Poppy runs and hugs me. I hate to be touched. I pat her on the back and force a smile once she releases me.
“Who is this?” I walk up to the new girl and she has this smirk that bothers me on her gorgeous face.
“This is Juliet, our new roomie. She’s staying in your old room,” Poppy answers behind me.
“Scarlett Brayson.”
“Juliet Spears.” I notice the accent.
“So you’re from the UK.”
“My Alma mater and the same school as Poppy and Hugo.”
“Yep,” Jordana flashes a smug grin. “Actually, she and Hugo have made quite the rivalry already.”
“Really?” I ask, amused.
Juliet laughs a little. “We’re not rivals. I just have a certain view of him.”
“So, you don’t think he’s charming?”
“In his way, yes he is, but he’s also an arsehole.”
“He’s just misunderstood.”
“Everyone is misunderstood, doesn’t make it less of a clichéd excuse to be an arsehole.”
I smile broadly. I like her.
We all turn around once we hear feet running down the hallway.
“August,” I say his name and his smile turns down. He begins to hide his face lowering his head.
“Hi,” he says nervously. The little bastard has always been scared of me. I find it hilarious.
“Hey August,” Juliet greets him, waving, and his smile appears again.
“Hi, Juliet.” He waves back.
How sweet, the little tart has bonded with the little retard. Shame on me for saying that about August, but as long as Hugo doesn’t hear me say it, I don’t give a shit. Juliet’s eyes avert between August and I. She stays on me for a moment, her precious blue eyes. I sense tension with this girl. I want to laugh out loud because the way she looks at me with wonder tells me everything I need to know. The new girl fancies my Hugo.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you all and go wait in Hugo’s room,” I say it more directly to her and leave. I can’t wait to be caught up with all that’s happened since I’ve been gone.
JULIET
“So that was the famous Scarlett,” I say once we walk into Poppy’s room with August not far behind us.
“Yep,” Jordana says as she falls into Poppy’s pink beanbag. “Charming, isn’t she?”
“I can tell already she is. There are plenty of girls like her back home.”
“Don’t know, Juliet.” Jordana shakes her head. “Scarlett is one of a kind. She is the type of quiet scary. You never see her coming.”
“I see she gave you a scare, August,” I say to him as he sits on the floor next to me with a sketchbook. He opens it up and reveals what looks to be a drawn out maze. Wow. It’s a labyrinth. It is a clear drawing of difficult paths.
“She always scares me.” His confession takes my attention away from his sketchbook. His eyes firm on the paper as he adds on to the intricate combination. He’s not even blinking. Drawing these things is probably the only time he doesn’t blink. “She’s bad for Hugo. She was bad for Gabriel.”
“August was the one who found Gabriel in Scarlett’s room,” Jordana says.
“Don’t take me back to it, please,” he pleads and all I want to do is give him a hug and promise him to never remember that day again, but just like the good days you never forget the bad ones. It’s also another thing besides DNA that he and Hugo share. They both witnessed their loved ones in treacherous events.
Sympathy crosses through Jordana’s eyes. “I’m sorry, August. I won’t take you back.” She shakes off the good then masks herself with carelessness. “You want a hit?” she asks me, holding up an already rolled up joint.
“Yeah, it’s been a minute. Well, since yesterday.” I wrap my lips around the end and inhale. Oh, it tastes like mango. I love it.
“Do you partake in any other illegal drug?” Jordana asks.
“I’ve tried some stuff in my day. I went on a massive trip off ecstasy during Spring Break in Bali.” I laugh to myself remembering that time with my best mate Jaz.
“What about coke? LSD? Muscle relaxers? Oxy? PCP?” She arches a brow. “Heroine?”
I laugh at the list. “I have tried coke, but it burns and it’s too,” I make a gross out face, “ugh. What about you?”
“I’ve tried everything except heroine,” Jordana explains. “Coke from time to time— for the high, of course, never for the initial feeling of snorting shit up my nose.”
“I’ve never did crack,” Poppy twirls her hair in wonder.
“You look like you’re contemplating on doing it,” I say.
“She probably is, which is very stupid given she’s overdosed three times now,” Jordana informs me.
“What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Poppy?” I’m laughing but totally serious.
“Nothing! I just like to have a good time,” she defends herself
“Well, how about you work on having a good time without using illegal substances?” I suggest.
She is seriously thinking deeply about this. It’s as if in her mind the act has not been achieved before by anyone.
“That just leaves sex then,” she finally says, shrugging. We all laugh at her, including August.
“So,” I decide to bring back up the main subject. “Scarlett.”
“Scarlett,” Jordana says back, grinning. “She’s probably going to drive Hugo mad.”
“Why is everyone so scared of her?”
“It’s who she is. Always knowing, always just ten steps ahead of everyone. She was the queen bitch in our school and had her hooks in everyone that mattered. She’s the type that will have you either wanting to be like her or wanting to sleep with her.”
“Did you sleep with her? I will not be shocked if you too slept with her.”
Jordana smirks. “She was my first. I began as the quintessential girl, battling her attraction to the same sex. I was shy, timid when I got here. Scarlett knew though. She probably realized when I lingered too much at her whenever she changed in front of me. She called me out on it after I was here for only a week. She would flirt with me, sending me mixed signals. Of course I denied it, but she knew. Playing with my head, basically. I was obsessed with her for months. She tortured me by titillating me until finally I snapped. She forced my coming out.” Jordana pauses, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “Come to think of it, even though I despise her, I do have her to thank for making me become my true self.”
“So again with complete respect and disgust, she is a person that uses her beauty and people’s vulnerability and scars from whatever fucked up thing happening to them to get what she wants. I think that’s a clear definition of Scarlett, yeah?”
Jordana and Poppy look at each other then at me. “Yep, pretty much,” they say in unison.
6
HUGO
I walk into my room. I’m in the middle of unbuttoning my shirt when I see her. She’s staring at my chess game. She turns around, her blonde hair hanging down to the side like a bombshell from the fifties and her red voluptuous lips part slightly at the sight of me. St
ill beautiful. Still able to make my dark heart race from the sight of her.
She walks up to me in her black heels, black pants and teal sheer sleeveless blouse. She stops in front of me and begins to circle around me. Usually I’m naked when she does this.
“I see you’re still intact,” she says, reappearing in front of me.
“And I see you’re still you… bewitching.”
She smiles and laughs a little.
“How have you been, Scarlett?” I ask, my eyes on her lips.
“Outstanding, Hugo… you?”
“Dull… but still pleasurable.”
Her brow arches. “I bet… would you like a proper hello?”
I don’t answer. She knows what I want. She always knows what I want. I grab her waist, pressing her body against mine and slide my hand around her neck, squeezing gently, leaning in and pressing my lips against hers. Slow and easy first then like a starving animal, I shove my tongue into her mouth, savoring the taste of her as she moans into mine. She grips my shirt and pushes her tongue against mine and we devour each other. It’s the only way we know how to be when together. This is our proper hello. I’m hard. Literally, it’s throbbing, which is the usual effect Scarlett has on me. She bites my lip, pulling it back before pushing me away. I stare at her ass once she walks away. Still round and lovely. She sits on the edge of my bed as I finish unbuttoning my shirt, taking it off.
“I’m getting married.” She just lets the words spill right fucking out. It isn’t a knife to the heart, but the knife went in somewhere—maybe the spleen.
“Congratulations,” I say and head over to my walk in closet. “Who, may I ask, is the unlucky fellow?”
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