by L. J. Woods
A long black box with a silver ribbon arrived a couple of hours ago, a black dress inside. The dress itself isn’t as prissy as the box, a plaid and leather asymmetrical piece. But with Damien picking me up in thirty minutes, this is starting to feel like a date.
“Alexander McQueen is definitely your style,” Willow nods.
“I don’t know what that means.” I put on a pair of gold cross earrings, compliments of Nancy, as I take in my appearance.
"It means points for Damien."
Willow buzzed the side of my hair, keeping the edgy style fresh. With a little added gel and hairspray, my hair was looking fit for a photoshoot. Willow had learned a few things from hanging out with those Trust Fund Trolls.
The dress isn’t stiff and with a bottle of whiskey on the bathroom counter, I'm feeling a boost of confidence. I turn around to see Willow head back into the closet.
My eyes widen. “No! No no no! How am I supposed to sneak out the window in those?”
She’s holding a pair of black spiked heels. “At least take them with you.” She looks down at my boots. “And thank god Docs don’t go out of style."
My phone buzzes along the bathroom counter, “Unknown” lighting up the screen again. I swipe on the phone and read the message.
Unknown: Your chariot awaits.
There's a patter in my chest but I have to remind myself, “This is not a date.”
“But it can be!” Willow laughs. “I’m still scarred from hearing you and Damien over the intercom. But it’s pretty cool my sister’s going on a date with the hottest guy in the school.”
And the most sadistic.
“Not a date!” I remind her, stuffing the heels into my backpack. Once I throw on my dad’s leather jacket, his watch and my mom’s rings, I feel more like myself. “I’ll be back tonight.”
“It’s okay if you're not.” Willow hugs me, one of my legs already out of the window.
“Miss Rowland?”
My eyes widen. “Shit.”
Willow runs to the door, stalling while I try my best to get back inside and push the window closed.
“Where’s Jo?" I hear Vincent's voice from the door.
“Right here!” I'm quick, popping up behind my sister, both of us making a barrier.
He looks at me then down at Willow before trying to look around us but we don’t let him. His lip does that thing where he looks like he smells a skunk. “Damien King is here to see you.”
My sister and I glance at each other as Vincent makes his way back down the hall. She smiles when I make a face as I grab my backpack before heading down the stairs.
Damien is waiting at the bottom of the staircase, Nancy and Eric by his side. He’s making Nancy giggle but Eric looks at him with suspicion in his eyes.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You have a date with Damien King!” Nancy squeals. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Is that what he told them? Is this a date?
“I thought we shouldn’t hide our plans.” Damien lends out a hand, a dapper smile on his face. “Shall we?” I roll my eyes and take it, a spark flowing through my skin. Damien smiles, “You look amazing. Good enough to eat.”
Who is this guy?
“Have her back by midnight,” Eric says. “No later.”
Damien smirks, eyeing me in my dress. “Something like that.” He leads me out of the house and into his Lambo. There’s a bottle of bourbon in my seat when he opens the door. I pick it up to sit down and when he gets in on the other side, he smirks, “Figure you prefer scotch to sunflowers.”
He’s right. I’m not a bouquet-getting kind of girl at all. And I’m going to need this with where we're headed. We take off through the gate and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t loving the roar of his engine as we cruise through the streets.
Is this what dating Damien King is like? From a beast into a beautiful prince? Charming and chivalrous? It seems way too good to be true. And I know better. This isn’t a date. The next thing that comes out of his mouth confirms that.
“Isaac deals for favours, not money.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “MDMA for an A in Economics. World-class blow for a world-class blowie.” He puts his tongue to the side of his cheek pushing out the skin until it looks like a cock.
I grimace. “Isaac deals? Is that what you want me to do?”
“I’ll let Isaac fill you in on the rest.” He turns down a road and a familiar feeling comes to my chest. I’m not sure if it’s fear, regret or both but I’m not too thrilled about picking up where I left off on my drug-dealing career. Damien notices my apprehension. “It’s not that shit you find in The Grove. Isaac is clean.”
“Did you tell him about —”
“No.”
“I don’t know, Damien.”
“The first step to power is money. And I’m willing to get you that, and so much more. All you have to do is trust me."
A snort comes from my nose, "Yeah, okay." As if anyone in this town can trust Damien King.
"I mean it." His hand comes to my lap, pulling at the fabric of the dress he bought. "You can trust me."
He glances over and the look in his eye almost has me. "We'll see."
Twenty
When we arrive at Isaac’s, it takes me a minute to digest the property.
Damien’s place is much more grandiose but this house looks like a piece of art from a design magazine. It’s modern. Stone and wood with mismatched roofs. A bridge leads to the front door with a sleek koi pond on each side, some students leaning and smoking against it.
Big, square windows reveal glimpses of what’s in store. The party looks to be in full swing and once inside, it’s clear Isaac didn't take any shortcuts. Bubbles and fog greet us, and there’s even a DJ playing the hottest electro from the second-floor balcony. He overlooks the foyer attached to the ginormous living area, fist-pumping to the beat.
Damien takes my backpack, his arm coming to the small of my back. Most eyes turn to him as he leads me through the room. He doesn’t look much different in his usual black attire but I realize our leather jackets almost match. Lea's eyes land on us, her jaw opening like a garage door. She's sitting on a boxy yellow sofa in a gold fringe dress, a golden headband to match her nails.
Georgina's beside her in a red crop top and a skirt that looks more like a tutu. I’m surprised to see Lea after what happened at school. Especially at a party. But the glossiness in her eyes and the champagne bottle in her hand tells me exactly what she’s doing here.
Damien leads me to a group of guys, each in their expensive versions of sweaters and jeans. One gives Damien his glass with amber liquid which he passes to me. It feels like I’m getting indoctrinated into the ERA Supreme life.
That’s probably why Lea’s approaching us like a raging bull, bottle in her hand. Georgina tries to hold her back but Lea breaks loose. "What are you doing here?” she demands, the tip of the champagne bottle in my face.
“Damien invited me.”
She looks at him, blinking her eyes in disbelief.
He glares back. “Lea,” he says this as a smooth cordial greeting.
My jaw clenches. Is this why Damien brought me here? To make Lea jealous?
“Damien,” she spits between gritted teeth. “I’m sorry for outing you and your little project from the projects but it was more for her than it was for you.”
Bitch.
“So it was you,” I mutter, taking a gulp of the drink Damien gave me. Scotch.
“Of course it was me!” She waves the bottle around and I dodge it, champagne sploshing out of the top. “How do you think I got the tape? My mom has cameras all over that place!"
Damien tilts his head at Georgina before she gets up and pulls on Lea’s arm. Lea jerks her head back, looking up at him like a child about to lose her privileges. She gasps, “Damien?”
“Enjoy your evening, ladies.” He returns his hand to the small of my back, leading me away.
I try my best not to smi
le. I can feel the heat coming off Lea from here. I was wrong. She's not why Damien brought me here at all. He says this is only business but I know he doesn’t treat everyone like this. I haven’t even seen him this cordial with Lea.
We walk through the halls with colourful walls and framed platinum records, Damien leading me towards wooden doors. The room in front of us looks like another living space, boyish laughter coming from inside.
“Gentlemen,” Damien greets whoever’s in the room, leaning against the door.
When I peek in, Isaac and Christian look up, laughter quieting. They’re sitting on one of the orange sofas in front of a projector screen. The party, what’s in the front foyer anyway is on display, and the guys sit up when they see us walk in. They have a beer in each hand, and when their eyes meet mine, Christian’s grin fades.
Looking around, I realize I'm standing in Isaac's room. It's bigger than Damien's. Artsy and futuristic. Vinyl records decorate the walls, a few fancy guitars hanging between them.
Damien leads me in front of the screen, the boys’ eyes on him. “I know how we can get that stuff to Craig Carson."
“Damien!” Lea’s voice comes from the hallway, “You stop right there! I don’t know what you’re doing but—” She appears at the door but Damien is quick to slam it in her face.
All three of us have the same look, eyebrows high as he turns back to me and the guys. It's an action that seems small, but to me, that means a lot.
"As I was saying…” Damien gestures for me to take a seat on the sofa. When I do he continues, “Medusa…” My mouth twists and he looks down with a smirk before trying again, walking over to the small bar at the side of the room. “I mean Jo is the key to our problem. She has some other skills, besides the obvious.”
“Dude.” Christian’s nose wrinkles at his comment and mine does the same.
He rolls his eyes, giving me a small smile but that smile jars me. I haven’t seen his lips do that in days. “Oh, so we’re good now?” I ask, words coming out louder than I expect.
“Isaac.” Damien doesn’t let us get into it. “Show her the stuff.”
Isaac smiles, swaying towards a chest at the end of his big ass bed. It's covered by a green tartan blanket. When he flips it open, his grin gets wider as he says, “Behold.”
Damien points his chin where Isaac is standing and I make my way over. When I look inside, I’m floored. This chest has it all.
Weed.
Coke.
Pills of all varieties. All colours.
“Woah.” My voice is almost a whisper. Tens of thousands of dollars sit in front of me but it's not in cash. I lean closer to Isaac, muttering, “Shit, no wonder you’re always out of it.”
Isaac winks. “I got people to please, baby.”
I reach in, looking at the layers and layers of pills. “Ecstasy, MDMA, Adderall, ketamine..." I’m listing off everything I see.
“Damn, you know your stuff.” Christian sounds surprised.
Standing up I look at all three of them. “You guys made sure this is all clean right?”
Isaac snorts, closing the chest and sitting on it. He pulls me on his lap with ease, stronger than he looks. Something big twitches under me. “This isn’t The Grove, Jo.” Isaac’s voice is husky, a sexy rasp I haven’t heard before. “You can have whatever you like.”
Christian shakes his head, taking my hand. He pulls me off Isaac's lap. "Whatever happened to not getting high on your own supply?” he asks.
On my feet, I look between them with a question of my own. “Why do you guys need me anyway?”
Every girl and some guys at ERA must be dying to be in my position. Locked in a room with the school's hottest, most powerful boys in Eden. They all have something going for them when it comes to looks and charm. Yet there's no doubt that they're all broken inside.
Christian sits beside Isaac on the chest. Damien sits on the other side, Isaac sandwiched in the middle. He takes the drink from my hand, taking a sip before speaking, “The girls here don’t like getting their hands dirty, but you? You’re different.”
“It’s easy to sell to the kids in The Academy," Isaac continues. "But our rival schools are different. We can swing a world of favour if we can get this product to them.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask. “Runs back home were quick and dirty.”
“We can’t tell you unless you’re down,” Isaac says.
“Oh, she’s down,” Damien speaks for me, glass by his lips. “But she keeps the money.”
I drop my hands to my sides, intrigued by their offer. “Okay yeah, I’m down”. There’s a lot of money there and I’d be stupid if I didn’t try to get a piece of the pie. Not like these guys need the cash.
“Great,” Isaac is first off the chest. “You can start right away, but we’re going to need to upgrade your outfit.”
“What? Why?”
“Patience, Rowland,” he says. “You’ll see."
In about thirty minutes, the guys have me out of my leather jacket and Docs and into the heels I brought in my backpack.
After a round of drinks, the three of them escort me out the room like my personal bodyguards. On our way, Lea glares at us on the steps by the entrance. “Oh look!” she yells, her voice a slur. “If it isn’t slutty Side-shave Barbie and her harem.”
“Georgina.” Damien's voice makes Lea's sidekick sit up straight. “Take Lea home. I can smell her from here.”
Lea scoffs, “You’d know.” I’ll admit she has a point.
Christian holds the front door for me but when Damien starts to approach Lea, I stall, watching. She stands tall as he gets close, but once he’s in front of her, Damien takes the gold headband from her hair.
“Go home, Lea,” he says. When Damien approaches me, he places her headband in my hair instead. “Perfect.”
On the way out, Isaac gives Damien the keys to a black Range Rover. Christian sits next to me in the back, Isaac in the passenger seat while Damien mans the wheel.
When we're off the property I pull the headband from my hair. “This isn't my thing."
Isaac turns around, stopping me. “It’s not for you. Keep that on and enjoy the ride.” He turns up the volume to a funk song and the music helps calm my nerves.
Christian's quiet the entire way, Isaac slurring about some girls in the front. In about fifteen minutes we pull up to another mansion. This one with a lion's head carved out in foliage in the middle of the driveway. The mansion looks historic with white banisters and a flag in the yard. Students sit out on the patio, but they can't see us from the end of the driveway.
Damien puts the Rover in Park while Isaac reaches into the glove compartment. He pulls out a large bag of pills, tossing it in my lap. “You ready?” Isaac asks.
I look around at the three of them all looking at me. “For what? What exactly am I doing for you?” Damien’s eyes lower and Isaac wiggles his brows, I can even see Christian taking a peek at me. “I mean with these!” I wiggle the bag and the pills shake like a rattle.
“Oh.” Isaac leans back in his seat. “Those are for Craig.”
“Craig?”
“Craig Carson,” Damien says, rolling the window down and peering up the long driveway. “We’re expanding our services outside of ERA. We need you to get these to the captain of the Hawks."
"The Ancaster Hawks?" It's the team they lost to at homecoming. “Why me?”
“They’re called our rival school for a reason,” Isaac says, a mini vodka bottle now in his hand. “They see any one of us coming up to that front door, or their school, and we’ll get kicked out in a heartbeat. But you? You’re a pretty young thing, baby. Ancaster Academy won’t think twice about letting you in.”
“Can’t these guys get their own supply? You guys all have money out here.” I try to piece this puzzle together. “Can’t be that hard for the guys at Ancaster to find someone. I’m sure all their parents are using something.”
“Pft, you think any of those guys wan
t to get into this sticky business?” Isaac asks. “Too many legacies to protect. But me?” He smiles. “My dad makes it all this easier.”
Christian looks me in the eye for the first time in almost a week and I’m stricken by his gaze. “I can come with you,” he offers.
“No,” Damien hardly moves his mouth when he denies Christian’s offer. He brings his finger to my chin, pulling my attention to his face. “Go to the door. The first person you see, ask for Craig. Once that’s done, you’re good to go. I’ll be watching.”
He leans over and opens the door as if I’ve already agreed to the plan. Isaac hands him a large manila envelope that he puts the pills in.
“How much is this worth?” I ask. If I’m stepping out this truck into another den of rich high-society snobs, I want to know what it’s worth.”
“Seven-hundred dollars." Damien gives me that same look he gave me that night at MOCHA. His tongue lands between his teeth, eyes sparkling. “It’s all yours once you make the drop.”
Seven-hundred dollars? If you even mutter that in The Grove you’ll get jumped.
That’s much more money than I was making with Zane for the same type of work, with much sketchier people. That’s a month’s rent. This would’ve taken weeks of working at MOCHA to make and I can walk away with this in one night.
“Seven-hundred dollars,” I repeat, reality sinking in.
“If you don’t want to, you can say,” Christian says.
I look at Damien and shake my head. “I’m trusting you.”
I'm quick to get out of the car, solidifying my decision. If I ponder on this any longer I’ll back out. Seven-hundred dollars is an offer I can't refuse.
As I walk up the long driveway, a few boys in beige slacks smoke a joint by their car. They give me a whistle, smiling as I wave back. I'm trying to keep it casual as I walk towards the entrance on these way too skinny heels. The calmer I look, the easier this will be.
The minute I get to the top of the white steps, I approach the group on the porch, "Craig Carson?"
"At your service." A curly blonde-haired boy looks up from the glass patio table, a skinny straw in his hand. He wipes at his nose and that's when I realize I've seen him before. At the homecoming game. No wonder the guys couldn’t handle this on their own. Damien almost beat this guy’s friend to a pulp. “What can I do for you?”