by Dakota Lee
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Hear me when I say this, Logan, you won’t find it so easy to toy with me again. I’m not your puppet, I don’t come when you call, I don’t dance when you say, and I’ll be damned if I give you access to my body just because you tell me to.”
It takes everything in me to stay rooted in place. The hairs on my arm stand on end. I feel the anger radiating off of him. He wants to push me. To demand I comply. But my words struck gold. Whether I’ve seen them or not, there were consequences to his actions. Knowing that emboldens me to turn my back on him and walk over to my bedroom door. Yanking it open, I tell him, “Last time I’m saying this. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
He steps into the living room, crossing over to the front door. “Don’t think for one-second that this is over, Jordy. You’re gonna show me that ink.”
“Never gonna happen.”
“Wanna bet?”
The question sends chills down my body. I lock the door behind him, sinking against it. I survived this standoff, but what fresh hell did I unleash upon myself?
I hurry to my bed, pulling my phone from under the pile of pictures, stabbing the contact number for my benefactor. “Pepper. It’s Jordanna. Are you up for a visit sometime this week?”
I asked for this visit and now that I’m here, I’m not sure how to bring up the subject I want to discuss. Pepper doesn’t push me to talk. She’s filling the air with stories about her weekend and the number of fundraisers she’s scheduled to attend this month. When she tells me about the list of gentlemen she’s considering as her escorts, my lips tip up.
“You find it amusing that I have so many suitors?”
Pepper Dane is sharped tongued, clear-headed and observant. Some days she dresses like a queen, others she’s wearing smoking jackets with cigars tucked on the side of her mouth. I’m never sure if I’m getting a grande dame or a mob boss, and I love every minute of it.
“I’m sure your dance card is full, I just don’t know how you manage it all. I’m struggling with just making new friends.”
“Because you don’t trust them. Jordanna, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I don’t trust the people I interact with either, but I don’t let that stop me from going out. You shouldn’t either.”
“I’ve gone to a few of their parties, but I’m not sure how to act. Logan and his friends still think I’m trash and most of the other students listen to them.”
“My child, they’re going to keep listening to that rubbish until you give them a new song to dance to. Don’t play the victim at the party, be the villain.”
I consider her words. “Villain? You mean get in their faces?”
“No. I mean, in the way villains always seem to have the most fun. Doing what they want. Saying what they mean. Letting others stress themselves out about motivations. You smile, and dance and laugh, and hold your head up and it will draw them to you.”
“No fear, huh?”
“Audentes Fortuna Iuvat.”
“Fortune favors the bold.”
“Those three words are powerful. You make your own decisions and forge your own luck. The rest will fall into place. You’ll see.”
Waving my hand around, I ask, “Is that how you wound up with all this?”
“I was fortunate enough to be born into this life, and yet unfortunate enough to be born into a different time. One where girls were often overlooked. Eventually I made them see me and took what I had, multiplying it over and over again. Sometimes I had a man by my side, but most times I didn’t.”
“But you’re a Mrs.”
“Ah yes. Garrick Dane. The only marriage that I enjoyed, because I was free to be myself. Took until I was in my forties to find that, and we had thirty good years together. Times are different now. You don’t have to wait that long. And you shouldn’t.”
Well, that lets me know she’s at least in her seventies. Though I suspect she’s way more advanced in age than that.
“Jordanna, dear, your limitations in their world aren’t because of money. It’s because of the boundaries and restrictions you’ve placed on yourself. Be bold in your moves. If it doesn’t pan out, write it down and make another attempt, and another, until you’ve lined up the pieces in a way that gives you the outcome you desire.”
“You mean to get revenge?”
“Or to give forgiveness if that is what you’re after.”
I shake my head, letting her know my forgiveness is not what I want to give them.
“Very well. Are you still doing as I’ve suggested?”
“Yes. I’m journaling, and writing down everything I see, and everything I feel. I’m still not entirely sure how it helps me combat what the beautiful people are doing at school.”
“Observation of yourself and others is an important step in gaining insight. And that insight, is how you’ll pinpoint each person’s strengths and their weaknesses. When you know those things, you know how to work them to your advantage.”
“That’s what they did to me. They figured out my weaknesses and used them against me.”
“Why, yes. That’s exactly what they did, my dear. It’s a tactic used by powerful people since the beginning of time.” She sips her tea, looking pleased that I’ve made the connection.
“So I should get rid of anything that makes me seem weak.”
“On the contrary. The key isn’t getting rid of it. It’s taking your weakness and making it your strongest asset.”
“I don’t know how I could turn that around. Logan used my inexperience and naïveté about sex against me.”
“Own that. And own your body. You can make your sexuality work for you in any way you desire. They targeted the young innocent girl, that you were. But you don’t have to be that person anymore. Now, you can be a feisty ingenue. Claiming what you want. Even in your femininity, strong and innocent, there is power, and you can learn to turn his experience against him.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a book about how to do that lying around, here would you?”
“No.” Her nail taps against her cup. “But I imagine you’ll figure that one out on your own, just fine.”
The conversation switches to my plans for this summer. She’s trying to convince me to apply for a conservatory program at the Sorbonne and dismisses my explanation about why I can’t afford to stay in Paris for three months. Instead, she reminds me that there are always patrons of the arts interested in sponsoring emerging talent.
The image of every hostel horror movie trailer I’ve ever seen comes to mind whenever I think of Europe on a budget, but I tell her I’ll consider her suggestion. She points behind me, and I reach around to drag the table with the chess board closer. It’s time for another lesson.
Ten
Jordanna
Break up etiquette 101. Return each other’s stuff. Logan and I weren’t together that long, so we never reached the steal his sweatshirt stage in our relationship. And other than some paints and brushes, I didn’t have anything at his studio. What I do have, however, is the gift that’s been in the back of my closet at home. I guess my mother or sister thought they were doing me a favor by shipping it to me.
It wasn’t cheap, so I don’t want to trash it, and I wouldn’t feel right giving it to someone else because I brought it specifically with Logan in mind. We’re well beyond the date specified in the store’s return policy too.
Suck it up Jordanna. Just give it to him and leave. I’m just about to ring the buzzer to his studio when the front door opens. I smile at the delivery guy with the leather jacket as he exits the building allowing me to slip inside.
I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. I chant during the ride to his floor and during the walk to his door. Raising my hand, I knock. And wait. Several minutes pass and just as I’ve convinced myself that he’s not here, the door slides open.
“Hi.” I squeak out, as the hollow feeling in my stomach intensifies.
“What are you doing here?”
“I we
nt to your room, but when you weren't there, I figured I might find you here.”
I was expecting to have this conversation in the doorway, but he waves the drill he’s holding motioning me inside. He goes back to the sculpture he's working on. I watch as he applies an anchor to one of the joints.
"Wanna drink?" He asks, setting the power drill to the side.
I should say no, but maybe a drink will help calm my nerves. “Sure.” He’s removed the stools and the easel I used to sit at. His sculpture takes up most of the space in the middle of the floor, so I take a seat on the only surface in this place, where sitting is possible. The bed.
He passes me a shot of something clear, and I begrudgingly clink my glass against his before gulping it down, exhaling breath as the warmth of the alcohol settles in my stomach. I slip my hat off my head, letting my hair tumble around my shoulders in a wild tangle of waves and curls. Today, I have a turquoise streak in my hair, and my nose ring in. Logan’s the first person other than Kassidy and Noel to see my hair and nose ring. He stares so long I feel self-conscious about it.
"You don't like it."
“I do. With your hair like that and the new bling, I think you look incredibly cool. And sexy.”
I smile shyly at the compliment as he pours himself another shot of whiskey.
“Did Noel like it?” He asks before tipping his glass to his lips. He swallows, then reaches his hand out for my empty glass. He turns his back to me, setting the glasses on the table in the corner. “I know the two of you were at the golf course with his daddy the other day. Looks like you're solidifying your place as the teacher assistant's pet.”
I hear the malice in his voice and those nerves I was feeling abate. What am I doing? I don’t give a shit what he thinks, and getting his approval about my new hairdo isn’t why I’m here.
“Noel and I are friends and he’s helping me meet people so I can apply for a new internship. I didn’t get the last one, remember.”
“Friends, huh? Is that what you call it?”
I can see now that Logan’s in a pissy mood. I stand, grabbing my hat off the bed. “It was a mistake coming here.”
“Was it? Because you never actually said why you came here to begin with.”
I pull the red-foil wrapped box out of my bag, smooshing it into his chest. "I didn’t know what to do with this, and I’m tired of looking at it. It was before everything went down."
He tears through the foil suspiciously, pulling out the shirt I picked out the day he took me shopping. I felt weird letting him pay for my clothes, so I brought the shirt with my own money when he wasn’t looking. I move towards the door, having spent all the time I can stand in his orbit. My chest hurts like I’m trying to squeeze myself through a barbed wire fence laced with razor blades and spikes.
“Jordanna, wait.” I stop in the middle of the floor expecting a thank you, or a fuck you. Either seems plausible where Logan’s concerned.
“I have something for you too.” He digs around in the dresser and pulls out a box wrapped in pink glitter paper. “And it was before… you found out the truth.”
Exchanging gifts feels weird, but my curiosity gets the better of me. I take it and unwrap the paper, finding a pouch with ceramic handled brushes. It’s like a chainsaw has been added to the blades and spikes. My chest is on fire, and I’m struggling to breathe.
His voice is soft when he says, “You said you can never have too many.”
I clutch the box to my chest. A sense of warmth slides over me. It’s unexpected and unwanted. Logan put some thought into this gift, but that doesn’t change the truth. The fact of the matter is he’s a bastard and I can’t trust anything he says or does. This is who he is. Making you feel special is what he does, and in five more seconds he’ll do something cruel. I need to get out of here before that happens.
“Well, Merry Belated Christmas.”
I hurry towards freedom and I’m almost there, but the moment my hand touches the doorknob, he blurts out, “Jordy, I miss you.”
“What?” My throat constricts over the word.
“I miss having you here. I miss talking to you, and I’m pissed that you can barely look at me when you see me in class or pass me on campus, and I don't know what to do about that.”
Turning to face him, I narrow my eyes at his words. “You really expect me to believe that? Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve threatened me or assaulted me. You’re always warning me about how much damage you can and are willing to do. And let’s not forget, you made a choice to bet on me with that sick game you played with your friends. This is the outcome you wanted. So congratulations on your big win.”
“You’re right. This is what I thought I wanted when I took that bet, but what if I was wrong?”
“What if? You still can’t see the problem here, Logan. What you did was wrong.”
Glancing away he says, “I know that Jordanna. God, I know that, and I’m sorry.” He turns back to meet my suspicion filled gaze. “I know I never said it, and I should have. But yes, I’m so fucking sorry that I hurt you like I did. You may not think so, but I’m paying for it. I wish I would’ve just taken a minute and stopped things before they went too far. I wanted to, but…”
“But the win was more important. I get it.” Now that I’m studying them, learning from Pepper and taking game theory. I totally get it. That doesn’t mean I’m not pissed, but I’m starting to understand how they think. “Logan, I knew it was a mistake to get involved with you, but I ignored my gut.”
“Jordanna…”
“It’s true, Logan. You told me from the beginning that I was an outsider and I didn’t belong here at your precious school. You were right then, and you’re right now. We’re from two different worlds. It was fucked up how you went about proving it, but, I’m glad the blinders are off. You’re being halfway decent by attempting to apologize, and maybe if you hadn’t of been so good at fooling me the last time, I’d believe that you miss spending time with me. But none of that matters now, because nothing between us would ever work. Not even being friends. I’m finally admitting us not interacting was and still is the right decision.”
He moves closer. Slowly, as if walking up on a wild stallion. “How can this ache I feel be right? We were friends, Jordy. That part was real, and I’m being as honest as I can be, when I say I miss hanging out with you.”
He’s a master manipulator, and even though his face looks as full of pain as mine does when no one’s around. I still don’t trust it. Fingering the tips of my streaked hair, his voice dips when he says, “I wish I could spend some time with you.”
I stand on tiptoe, brushing my lips against his. I don’t even have time to settle into the kiss, before he’s pulling back abruptly, pushing me away.
“Logan?”
"I'm sorry, Jordy, I shouldn't have done that."
"I kissed you."
“I know, and it was a mistake. You’re right. We aren’t friends and this gift won’t change that.” He walks back across the floor, shaking his head.
There it is. The truth in the lie. His sudden bout of conscious was just another attempt to con me. With that revelation I walk out of the studio, closing the door behind me with a loud thud. All sorts of thoughts are swirling through my head as I walk towards the elevator. Pepper would ask, ‘What did I learn today?’ I replay every detail I can remember, of my last few interactions with Logan, over in my head.
The games are still going. That much was obvious at the bell tower, and Logan thinks he has the upper hand. But that night at the back to school party showed me Pepper was right. Logan’s rules aren’t absolute or followed by everyone without question. There were people there who were willing to talk to me. It just took making an effort to show them I didn’t care about whatever rule the BP’s have laid down.
Next I evaluate that little speech he just gave about missing me. It’s laughable that he thinks it worked. It’s obvious he wants to continue toying with me. Does he think I’m too stupi
d to notice? Or am I supposed to be so heartsick over our breakup that I’m romanticizing everything, convincing myself that deep down he really cared about me? I was blind to it all before, but now, I see him. The real him, for the conniving, depraved bastard, he is.
I crack my neck and roll my shoulders loosening the tension in my body as the elevator descends. I wonder what the prize and stakes are this semester. My Uber is waiting for me in front of the building. I slide into the backseat turning over possibilities in my head. Anything is possible, but it won’t matter, because this time, I’m playing a game of my own.
Eleven
Jordanna
Pepper’s been on vacation for the last two weeks and I didn’t realize until this minute how much I’ve missed our talks.
“How was your week?” She asks, just like she has every other time I’ve come to visit.
“It didn’t suck as badly as the last one, but still not as good as my worst one at Carryville.”
While I’m setting up the chessboard, she hands me a gleaming silver compact. I’m talking polished so good I can see myself in it. It’s the type of silver you see encased behind glass with the crown jewels. Obnoxiously shiny of the silver spoon variety.
“Pepper, what’s this?”
“It’s a present. I thought that’d be obvious.”
“I can’t accept this.”
“Why not? It’s been sitting around here for years. Passing hands from one family member to the next, for generations, and I can’t think of anyone else who is more deserving of it.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
That’s not a good enough reason to give it to me, but that’s not what I was asking either. “No, I mean, why does it just get passed around?”
“Oh, that? I believe someone in our family picked it up at an estate sale generations ago. I’d meant to research it’s history but honestly, I haven’t the time. It’s even got a little inscription so I figured it must have meant a lot to the original owners.” She tilts the lid open so I can read it.