by L V Chase
"My picture?" Cin asks. Then, she scowls. "Shit. Those interview photos. God damn, I knew that felt sketchy."
"You're right," I say. "It all goes back to the scholarship. Brady heard you were special." I try to pull Cin closer, but she doesn't budge. "Listen, there's shit, then there's people like Brady. He's a complete piece of shit, beyond anything I would wish on anyone. He wanted you."
Cin shivers, and her hands tremble in mine.
"I was supposed to get you ready for him, but I didn't," I say.
"Diana," Cin whispers.
I nod slowly. "I got Diana ready instead. I mean, I handed her off to Eric to groom her. She was eager, happy even at first. But then, after Brady got his hands on her." I sigh. "I told you Brady was a complete fuck-up. Well, you know how that turned out."
Cin's frowns. "Do I? So you killed Diana?"
"No! I don't know. I assume my father took care of it somehow, but he's never told me. And I don't really want to know, either."
"Because then you'd be an even bigger accomplice then you already are?" Cin asks.
I don't have a retort for Cin's accusation. "I'm not done. There's more."
"More?" Cin asks, her voice quiet, as if she can't believe that it gets worse.
"Damian, he's known most of this for a while now. He has Brady in his pocket. Damian's been threatening to release everything he knows to the public if I don't do what wants."
Cin just stares at me, wordless.
"It's the truth, Cin," I say. "Trust me. Damian's been blackmailing me. But the part I don't get is that he's acting strange. He wants me to bully you so that he can sweep in and save you like some hero. I thought he wanted to win you over, but then that video at the talent show? Damian was behind that, too. He made Aurora do it."
Cin gasps. "No..."
"I thought he was trying to steal you from me, but now I have no fucking clue what he's trying to do, other than to blow everything up."
"You were grooming me?" she finally asks. "For your Dad's business?"
I'm not going to lie to her. "Yes. At first. But not after—"
She reaches behind her for the paintbrush. She tries to hit me with it, but I catch it in my fist. She lets go and starts beating on my chest with her hands instead. This time, I don't stop her as wails on me for a good minute, screaming, sobbing.
She storms out of here. She left the painting behind. The one with me and her.
25
Cin
While the other villas are starting their parties, Grayson and Damian’s villa is quiet. Maybe it’s out of respect for Eric’s banishment from campus. Maybe Eric is hiding inside. Maybe nobody in the house wants to get into more trouble after the talent show fight. Maybe Grayson is grooming his next girl, and I’ll walk into some girl sucking him off.
My heart clatters in my chest. It could be disgust. It could be jealousy.
I step up to the front door. I send a quick text.
I’m in front of your campus house. Let me in.
I turn around, watching the flashing lights at the other houses, the people crowding their front yards. A group of men are dressed up like groundhogs, racing down the road on bicycles. One of them swerves to avoid a plastic cup in the street, crashing down onto the asphalt. I take half of a step toward him, but he quickly rebounds back onto his feet. His eyes meet mine. He gives a quick wave. One of his buddies parks their bike next to him.
“Cinnamon Reeves!” He calls out. “I loved your talent of getting fucked! Come to my party! You can hone your skills!”
I wave back. “I’d love that, Jason! But I don’t train with novices. Maybe in a few years!”
His buddy laughs at him, smacking his arm with the back of his hand.
“Shut the fuck up, stupid whore,” Jason snarls, yanking his bike back up. He jumps back onto it. “Fucking bitch.”
The villa’s door swings open. I turn and see Damian smiling at me.
“Hey, Cinnamon,” he says. “It sounds like you’re making friends out here.”
“Oh, you know how I am,” I say. “People gravitate toward me, and I inspire respect everywhere I go. I’m the Jesus of Roman Academy.”
He gestures for me to walk inside. I step in, looking around. Without people cluttering the rooms and hallways, the villa looks much larger than it did the night of the party.
“I can finally show you my room,” he says. “I recall you wanted to see it, but we didn’t get around to it.”
“Right,” I say, nodding. “Let’s go.”
I follow him up the stairs, keeping an eye out. He glances back, watching me.
“Grayson isn’t here,” he says.
“Oh,” I say. “That’s not—I don’t care about that. I just can’t get over how big this place is.”
We step into his room. It’s similar to Grayson’s in the way that there are no personal touches—no photos, no decorations, no artistic expression—but instead of pathological orderliness, there are piles of clothes, papers, and half-empty water bottles discarded everywhere.
He sits on his bed. As he looks ready to motion for me to sit beside him, I pull out the chair to his desk and sit down.
“How are you doing?” he asks. “I’m sorry everyone here is giving you shit. It must be hard.”
“Why aren’t you upset about the sex tape?” I ask, swaying the chair back and forth.
He shrugs. “I wasn’t under the impression that you were a virgin. I’m not going to be upset that you have needs and desires like the rest of us.”
“I understand that part, but you’ve been interested in me. You said you’ve been interested in me for a while. I would think it would make you jealous.”
His eyebrows rise.
“Evidently, I slept with someone during my first month here,” I say. “That doesn’t bother you?”
“It’s not like we were committed to each other.” He leans back on his elbows. His shirt sneaks up a little bit. “I guess it’s a bit upsetting, but under the circumstances, I was more worried for you. I can’t imagine anything more traumatic than having a sexual encounter aired to everyone in our school while being onstage and—”
“I know about your mom.”
He stares at me and slowly sits up straight again. His jaw is clenched and his nostrils flare, though he keeps his shoulders relaxed. “Excuse me?”
“Your mother. I know she went to jail over the marijuana arrest. I know you…I think you went to jail too until they realized the truth,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”
His fist is clenched, held tightly over his leg.
“Grayson also told me you’ve been blackmailing him about the—" I take a deep breath and quickly exhale. “—about what he and his father have been doing. He said that’s why he’s been bullying me. You put him up to it.”
His fist unclenches. He grabs his knee, his fingers thrumming against it. His expression is apathetic except for the tension around his eyes.
“I tried to get some information out of Grayson about the thing with his father. I’m sorry if he took that as blackmail, but I didn’t encourage him to bully you. Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “That’s why I’m asking you.”
“Grayson is a pathological liar,” he says. “And now you know he’s also pure, unadulterated evil. Why would you trust him?”
“I don’t,” I say. “But you’ve been acting strange. You know about prison food. You know about Eric’s sexual assault allegations. You—"
“I know about those allegations because of my investigation into the Voss family,” he says. “A source mentioned hearing the rumors before she was groomed by Grayson. I didn’t want to get you too involved in this investigation and put you in danger, so I lied about my source. I’m sorry about that.”
His reasons make sense, but his voice is nonchalant like he’s rehearsed his explanation. He should be enraged that I’d believe Grayson’s
accusations if they were false. He should be cursing me out. He should be as angry at me as he was at Grayson at the talent show.
What did Grayson say before the fight broke out?
From what I’ve heard, your family loves to turn tail and run.
He knew about the hit-and-run, too. Of course, he did. His father owns a news media company.
Damian’s eyebrows are slightly raised as he waits for me to respond. He used to do the same thing when we played poker, and I was deciding whether to call his bet, raise, or fold.
I only have one more card to play.
“Ally McCulloch told me the truth,” I say.
His expression closes down. He only stares at me.
“Damian, you can be angry at me about your mother going to jail,” I say. “But don’t pretend to be my friend while you’re trying to sabotage me. It’s not my fault that your mother hit somebody and left the scene. I had nothing to do with that.”
His lip curls up. “God, Cin, you’re so fucking stupid.”
The vitriol in his voice pierces through me, sharper and deeper than when Diana stabbed me. He stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head.
“You fucking think that it’s just about my mother rotting in prison? That you sent a middle-aged lady to be imprisoned with a woman who smashed her husband’s skull in with a hammer and with a woman who set her house on fire while her parents were inside?”
He paces as his hands emphasize his words with aggressive movements.
“It was a fucking nightmare, for the record,” he says. “The police forced their way into our house, swinging their goddamn guns around, screaming at us. When my father didn’t immediately get on the floor, they beat him with their batons. They dragged me into their police car, telling me that I was a coward—"
“Damian, I’m sorry—"
“I’m not done,” he cuts me off. “Of course, they figured out eventually it wasn’t my car. They hadn’t looked through the file long enough to remember that a witness had seen a woman who fit the description of my mother, and that it was her route home from work. She was arrested. And you know my mother. She’d been a wreck the whole time, her head all messed up from the stress. She confessed. A middle-aged woman, who got overtaken by fear when her car clipped somebody, was treated like a psychopath and locked up with criminals prone to violent outbursts.”
I squeeze my hands together, the scenes playing out in my head. Damian keeps reaching for his hair, tugging it near the roots. His eyes are blank as he treads in front of me, but his lip is still curled up in disgust.
“But that’s not all,” he continues. “When they released me, and I went back home, my father was beyond enraged. He was…consumed with grief. He screamed at me, blaming me, telling me if I hadn’t been selling that marijuana, my mother wouldn’t be in prison. He forced me out of the house. He didn’t even give me time to take any of my things. I had to beg Sam to let me work at Writing on the Wall to support myself. So, fucking tell me again, Cin, how angry I should be at you. Tell me again how it’s all my mother’s fault that you and your goddamn mother couldn’t resolve your stupid, petty issues. Tell me how sorry you are, and how you think that will make things better.”
He’s stopped pacing. His eyes sear me.
“Damian.” I open my hands, showing him my palms like they’re white flags. “I can’t ever—I’m so sorry. It’s fucked up. You know that I’d take your pain if I could. But you come here, and you try to hurt me when I couldn’t have known that any of this happened.”
“You could have checked up on my family,” he says. “You could have read the goddamn news.”
“I did check up on your family,” I say. “I called your house. I called you. Nobody ever answered. Then, I heard your family moved. I thought you hated me for getting you arrested, but I didn’t think it…I didn’t think you’d go this far. Why wouldn’t you just tell me? You came here just to make a fool out of me?”
“I wanted to ruin your life as much you ruined mine,” he sneers. “But I didn’t know you’d make it this fucking easy. You’ve truly outdone yourself with your stupidity. You know how easy it was for me to get that sex tape? I didn’t even have to do anything for it. I can see now why your father didn’t stick around. You were born a mistake, and you’ll always be one. You’ve spent all this time looking down on your mother, but at least she’s honest about what she is. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re more, even as you chase rich men’s bank accounts. But you’ll always just be a whore for Grayson to train or for the next man to fuck. I bet Jay would toss you a twenty for choking on his cock.”
I lurch out of the chair. I spin around, snatching up his laptop, ripping it out of its cord. I hurl it at him. It slams against his chest. As he sways back, catching himself with his hands, I pick it up off his lap and bash it against the side of his head. He recoils, clutching the side of his face as I let the laptop drop on the floor.
“Fuck, there’s another reason for you to hate me,” I snarl. “Make sure to blame my stupid, petty issues when you can’t get over your own fucked up family. Fucker.”
I storm out of his room, rage and grief swarming around me in a cloud of humid heat. My skin is too hot, and my thoughts are too big for my head. I need to get away from myself.
As I get outside, I try to outrun the understanding that the boys in my life all either resent me, lied to me, or left me. All I have is my mother and a trail of pain. I bring out the worst in people. I’m a magnet for disaster.
I step out onto the street that connects all of the villas. In the distance, I see a group of boys dressed up as groundhogs doing a keg stand.
I stalk over to them. Jason moves quickly, stepping in front of me.
“What the hell do you want, bitch?” he spits out.
I take his plastic cup from him, sipping from it. Cheap beer. At least it tastes familiar. It tastes like home.
“I thought you wanted me to join your party,” I say, finishing the beer. I hand him the cup back. “Tell me where I can get some more.”
“Hell yeah!” Jason whoops. “The campus’ whore is ready to party!”
He leads me to their keg with his hand on my shoulder. I shut my brain off. I try to turn into the person they say I am. At least she knows what she wants.
26
Grayson
I'm in my room back at the villa on my bed staring at the ceiling. I don't know how long I've been in this position, but all I can do is imagine Cin's face on the blank white ceiling above me, picturing my last memory of her.
My last memory because she's gone. I've lost her. The one thing that the name Voss couldn't buy.
I get up and move over to my desk. There's a bottle of hard liquor in a golden-brown bottle here. I reach for it, ready to drown myself in alcohol. I take the top off, bring it to my lips, but then I stop before a drop reaches my mouth. If I get drunk, I might forget her. I don't want to forget her, even if it hurts. Especially if it hurts.
I set the bottle back down on my desk. I'm not interested in moping or feeling sorry for myself. There's plenty of better ways to keep myself busy. Damian and his Writing on the Wall. Cin's mother, Kat, although that might be too close for comfort. Maybe Aurora. Even that fat fuck Brady.
I could hurt them. I could focus on making them feel all the pain that I am now. Drown myself in rage and vengeance, not a weak-willed sorrow. Dad's cold voice echoes in my memory. I could even kill someone.
Something buzzes on my bed. It's my new phone.
I have no interest in answering. Dad's probably going to bitch at me about some other problem that he can't take care of. Or maybe Hayden wants to hang out—I'm not fucking babysitting anyone. Or worse. Eric with bad news. It doesn't matter. All that people bring me these days is shit.
The buzzing dies down, but then it starts back up again. I just stare at the phone. There's only one person I'd answer it for, and there's no way it's her. She's gone.
The phone stops buzzin
g then starts again. After the fourth time, I rush over and grab it.
It's her. Cin. I answer the call immediately.
"Cin?"
"Fuck you," she says in a breathless tone. "Fuck you, Grayson. Fuck you very much." Her words slur together at the end.
"Cin? Where are you? Are you drunk?"
In the five seconds it takes for her to reply, the worst scenarios flash through my mind. She's hurt. Someone's drugged her. She's been kidnapped. But she just keeps on swearing at me.
"You're the fucking worst person on earth," she says. "You know that? The fucking worst."
It's getting harder and harder to make out her words. She's definitely drunk.
"You're right," I tell her. "I'm the worst. Where are you Cin? Are you safe?"
Cin laughs. "Why? What's that to you? You thinking of taking me for a test drive?"
"What? Cin, just tell me where you are." I walk over to the desk and search through the clutter for my car keys as I talk, ready to go after her if she's somewhere far.
I make out loud background noises, like someone shouting, maybe someone laughing.
"Cin! Where are you? Who's there?"
"People. Boys. Lots and lots of boy. I think they want to fuck me." Cin says something else that I can't quite make out.
Damn. I'm guessing she's at one of the parties the villas usually have on Friday nights. I know what the other boys are like. I know what happens at those parties to drunk girls. Fuck. I don't have much time.
"Cin!" I try to speak slowly and deliberately. "Where are you, Cin? Come on, damn it!"
There’s the sound of heavy breathing. I can't help but imagine the worst over and over, a bunch of horny little bastards taking advantage of her. Then, Cin talks again.
"Are you here yet?" Cin asks. "Don't you want to see if all your training was worth it?"
The low voices in the background grow louder. It sounds like people are approaching her.
"Cin!"
She hangs up. I try to call her back, but the phone keeps ringing until it disconnects again with no answer. I freeze, trying to figure out what to do. There are too many villas to search one-by-one, but less than ten or so of them are likely to hold parties, and only about half of those are going to be in the villas for boys. Most of them are in the same area, so it should be obvious who the likely contenders are.