by J Bree
“What. The. Fuck.” I hear Blaise say behind me. I glance behind me and see he's standing with an arm slung casually over Ash’s shoulder. They’re both dressed for the gym, the track team if I remember correctly. Ash’s face is ghostly white and his eyes are haunted as he takes in the scene. Harley nudges me and leans in to whisper in my ear, his breath dancing over my throat.
“Please explain to me what the fuck you did?”
“Did you know he's an addict? Cocaine was found in his room this morning. It seems the police were called in without Trevelen’s knowledge, what a shame Joey couldn’t talk his way out of it before law enforcement arrived.”
Harley swears under his breath and leans away from me quickly as Avery arrives with Rory close behind her. Harley shoots him a dark look full of loathing but he doesn’t say anything and Avery doesn’t notice. She doesn't have the same haunted look Ash does, instead she stares at the police officers reading Joey his rights with calculating eyes. Joey doesn't struggle or make any sort of scene, he just nods along amicably. I suppose he knows his dad will bail him out the second his ass hits the bench at the station so why bother putting up a fight. Avery looks over at me and she really looks at me for the first time. She's trying to read me, get some insight on my involvement. I wonder how much Harley put in the text message to her.
“If this was your doing, you better hope he never finds out.” she says and I shrug. I know they're all looking at me again but this time I feel powerful. I've made my own move on the board and now I have to wait to see what Joey does next.
Mr Trevelen finally notices the huge crowd and starts to order us all to disperse. Avery tugs Harley away, he's hesitant to go like he'd rather watch Joey be dragged away until the image is burned into his corneas for life. My eye’s trace the tattoo that curves along his jaw, Honor before Blood. The necklace is in my pocket. I think about giving it to him now but there are too many people watching. It feels wrong to keep it.
I wait until the crowd has thinned right down and Joey looks over to catch his eye. He doesn't look upset or surprised, he tips his head at me and grins. It's his maniac grin, the one that lets me know he will never be a good or kind person. I tip my own head back just a little and let him see the challenge I'm setting him. Let him come for me.
By dinner the entire school knows about Joey’s arrest and subsequent suspension from Hannaford.
I fill my tray with all the meats and vegetables I can fit, I’m starving and a little worried about possible scurvy after my week of surviving on protein bars, and then I find a seat at the long table. No one spares me a second glance which I’m smug about. I get to listen to the rumors already circulating about what Joey has done to land himself in handcuffs. My personal favorites were prostitution, money laundering from street fighting, and involvement in his family’s business.
Avery and the guys are also at the table and Harley is staring my way. He’s not trying to be discreet, just openly glaring my way as he chews on his meal. Avery is chatting to Blaise and, though their tones are light, I can see the strain in her shoulders. Ash is scowling at him plate. No amount of cajoling by Avery will get him to talk. I’m busy observing them so I miss Harlow arriving at the dining hall. She doesn’t miss me.
“Move, idiot.” She snaps at the guy sitting across from me. He startles and glances between us both. I get my first real look at the damage I’d done to her face as he scrambles up and away from us both, leaving his tray behind. Her eyes are both black and swollen, her nose has been taped and braced, and her cheeks are both mottled with bruises. None of her pretty features are visible anymore. She looks horrific, like she’s been the victim of a violent crime, and the smile I give her is all teeth.
“Is there something you want, Roqueford? I’m busy.” A hush falls over the dining hall. Even the teachers further down the table have stopped to watch our confrontation. I wonder if they’ve been warned off from me as well.
“You’re dead. The minute Joey gets back he’s going to fucking kill you, Mounty scum.” She spits at me, literally spits, I feel it land on my cheek. I fight the urge to wipe it away.
“Why would he bother with me? He’s already extracted his revenge for me turning him down.” I laugh at her and she flinched back at the icy sound.
“He’s not stupid, obviously it was you who snitched on him.” Her knuckles are white as she grips the chair. I let my eyes roam over her face again with pride. I really do feel proud of what I did to her. There’s only the strong and the weak in this world and it didn’t matter what Joey and his fucked up flunkies did to me, I’d always be stronger than them.
“How about you prove it?” I whisper and smile at her again. She curses at me again and turns on her heel to storm out. The room seems to hold its breath for a second and then the conversations resume, quietly at first and then with some gusto.
I enjoy my dinner and I don’t waste another second thinking about Joey Beaumont.
He’s out of my hair for a few weeks.
Chapter Fourteen
I get a weeks reprieve from Avery and her minions. I don’t know if I’ve rattled her or if she’s still recovering from whatever it was that happened between her and her siblings but I enjoy the silence. I throw myself back into my study and focus on my vocal work for choir. I have worked out that if I wear earplugs I can go through the exercises Miss Umber has assigned us but that means I have no idea how I sound. If the class didn’t directly affect my overall grade I wouldn’t care whatsoever about it but my scholarship required a near perfect GPA to stay eligible. There was no way I was letting my PTSD lose my chances at a decent future.
During my training with the Jackal I’d been subjected to torture. There was no other word for it, no pretty little name that changed what happened into a useful lesson. I’d been taught how to withstand extreme levels of pain without screaming. The side effect of that training was that now I couldn’t hear my own voice, screaming or singing, without the bone deep fear of the consequences the Jackal had set for me. I had the scars to show for the punishment I was dealt and the thought of going through that again made my brain switch firmly into fight or flight mode.
It was one of many reasons I had run away from Mounts Bay and why I could never love Matteo the way he loved me.
Sometimes, when I didn’t keep myself busy or on high alert, those memories would creep into my mind unbidden and I’d find myself shaky and nervous, twitchy even.
I was in one of those moods when I sat in the library for my usual study session with Ash.
He’d blown off our other session for that week so I had no real expectations for him showing up today. If anything, I hoped he wouldn’t show up. I didn’t want him questions the tremor in my fingers as I answered the Math equations in my workbook.
I get fifteen minutes of peace before Blaise arrives. He looks around the library as if he is looking for someone else to help him, and then sighs and sits down in the seat Ash usually uses. I don’t look up or acknowledge him as he empties his bag and gets settled in his seat. Once he’s set up he clears his throat to get my attention. I look up and focus my eyes at the tip of his nose instead of staring into those gorgeous green eyes. He shifts in his seat and I think about feeling sorry for him. Then I remember his cold words when he’d publicly humiliated me on the worst day of my time at Hannaford so far, I don’t fuck fans, and I give him the tiniest glare instead. God, I am pathetic.
“I’m going to fail Math if you can’t perform a miracle on me.”
I take the paper he slides across to me and see the mess he’s made of his own workbook. It’s bad. It’s not completely hopeless but he’s definitely going to fail if he hands this in. I start to mark it and jot down observations in silence, trying to ignore the slight tremble of my fingers. I can help this arrogant, gorgeous, talented, swoon-worthy asshole without having to look or speak to him. I am just that good.
He squirms in his seat.
“Look, if you don’t want to help me then I can f
ind someone else.” I snort at him derisively without stopping my methodical work.
“Harley is on par with me in Math. Why don’t you ask him to help you? Then you wouldn’t have to ever look at me. I could continue to stay as far away from you as possible and you could forget I even go here.”
He clears his throat again and looks around the room. His tie is off and his shirt is unbuttoned enough that I can see his tattoos peeking out. I try my best not to think about them and I finish marking the page, sliding it back across the table to him. When I pick up my own work again he finally answers me.
“Harley is really impatient. He used to try and help me but we would end up at each other's throats. He doesn’t understand how I don’t get it, it’s all so easy to him that he’s removed from the work the rest of us have to do to understand.”
It’s an honest statement. Something revealing and raw. I nod at him and then I sigh, looking up to walk him through the work verbally until I’m sure he’s got a decent understanding of the formulas. He’s obviously smart but it takes a few tries to find the right explanations to help him get a good grasp on the sums. It’s pleasant, much nicer than the antagonistic banter with Ash, and I find myself enjoying him being there. We get the workbook in a solid A condition and I even help him develop a great page of notes for the upcoming tests.
“So, how did you first hear Vanth?” he asks as I do a last read through.
The question throws me and I just barely manage to keep hold of my pen. I glance up to see his eyes fucking twinkling at me and I choke on my tongue.
“I heard your early covers and I bought the albums.” I don’t mention what I had to do to get the money to buy them. I don’t know how well he’d take me gambling with my body in the fighting scenes of Mounts Bay middle school.
He groans and rubs a hand over his face.
“How did you find the covers? They’re terrible! You must be a very dedicated fan to go looking for them.”
I know logically that he’s joking around with me but he hits a nerve. The same nerve he’d struck uttering those words to me in Health Ed. My face flames and I slowly put my pen down with a glare at him. His face drops, the smile sliding right off of his features.
“I didn’t go looking for them, I’m not a fucking stalker. I meant that I heard them when you released them. I’d been listening to your shit from the beginning and I followed your career from there to Vanth. But don’t worry about going to school with a fan, I’m certainly not one now. I’ve fucking burnt the shirt and deleted your shit from my phone. I have no interest in listening to music from a stuck up, spoilt, rich brat. I’ll listen to music from people who are real and write lyrics from the heart.”
I’ve managed to strike a nerve with him too. I know all about his insecurities, how he didn’t want to use his parents money to prop up the band is their early years or use their connection to get a record deal. I know exactly what to say to piss him off and that’s what I’ve done.
He leveled me with a look so dark my mind flashes to Ash was sitting across from me. I take in every inch of his fire and give him back my own. I may never be able to speak to him again but at least I’ve told him exactly what I think of him, exactly what his dismissal of me did to me.
Now Avery might actually kill me, but fuck him and fuck her.
Two things cross my mind when I get back to my room after dinner the next night: Avery Beaumont works fast; and where the hell could I get some locks that would keep the bitch out of my room.
I thought the urine was the worst thing they could throw around my room and I guess it was a stinking biohazard. However, piss could be washed out, you could splash enough bleach around to disinfect and clean the damage done to the room.
You can’t wash out pure, industrial strength black paint.
When I open the door and switch on my light the blackness eats it up so much for a second I think the light has blown. There isn’t a single inch of the room or contents that isn’t now black. My clothes and shoes, my books, my fucking pillow. I take a step forward and I feel the tackiness of the floor. The paint isn’t even dry yet, they must have barely finished before I got here. I can hear the tittering of their laughter, a sound that will probably haunt me for life once I’ve left this damned place behind, but I don’t look back to see who it is. I know that no matter who held the tin and brushes Avery is behind this. I’m grateful that I’ve made copies of all of my class work so at least I don’t lose that work but I now have nothing. I’ll have to spend some of my stash of funds to replace my uniforms and my clothing. I’ve lost every damn thing I own. Well, not everything. My safe hidden under the floorboards is fine.
I have no choice but to call the administration office and report the damage thanks to the black walls and floor.
While I wait for help to arrive I pick through my destroyed belongings and start a mental list of what I’m going to have to replace, the bare minimum I’ll need to survive. It’s frustrating that Avery knows exactly where to hit to cause the most damage to my life. While Joey uses big, sweeping acts to attempt to break me Avery knows the small pressure points that chip away at me. The bet and the guys chasing me for sex is annoying but manageable. Even Joey trying to fuck me against my will was something I could deal with, a knife to the dick is pretty persuasive. The 911 call was closer to the mark but he underestimated my mental walls.
The exhaustion of cleaning out my room constantly, of checking for cameras, of showering as quickly as I can, of replacing everything I own, that was all much more likely to get me to quit this school and honestly, if my only other option wasn’t returning to the Jackal I might’ve walked away by now. But I know the second I go back to him I will never get out. I’ll be stuck as his second in command in his gang and probably even his girlfriend. I’ll be his to own and control. I can’t ever belong to him again.
Avery’s face is the perfect picture of innocence when Mr Trevelen arrives. I don’t have any evidence to say it was her but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that she’s responsible. I’m escorted down to the sick bay in the nurse's office to sleep for the night and Mr Trevelen informs me I’ll be reimbursed for the items lost. I don’t kick up a fuss, there’s no point, and when I lay my head down I sleep like the dead.
When I wake up in the sick bay I’m handed a day pass, a packed lunch, and ten crisp hundred dollar bills. There’s a small town, with the cutesy name of Haven, twenty minutes away from Hannaford and I have a school car and personal driver waiting to escort me there to replace my destroyed belongings. Mr Trevelen explains to me that my room will be cleaned and painted by the time I return in the afternoon and he’s barely looking at me in the eye. Whatever Matteo said to him is sticking.
During the drive I tap out a quick text to Matteo and ask him for some recommendations on pick-proof locks. I’m willing to pay big bucks to keep the other girls out of my shit from here on out. His reply is immediate and coddling but I take it. He’ll send me what I need.
It’s a Saturday so the town is full of students. I’ve never seen the appeal in venturing outside of the school. I don’t want to spend money or run into one of Matteo’s men out here, but the town is one of those cookie-cutter-perfect places with cafes and boutique stores and I have to admit it’s nice. There isn’t a big box chain store in sight. Giant trees line the brick streets and they’re all decorated with hundreds of white, blinking fairy lights. It’s magical looking, even for my jaded heart, and I let myself stare out the window at it all a little wistfully.
A thousand dollars isn’t enough to replace what I need if I stick to these higher end stores, I’d be lucky to find a single item of clothing for that price so I ask the driver to drive around for a while until I spot what I’m looking for. Tucked away off the main street in a tiny alleyway I find a thrift store. I ask the driver to wait and he informs me with a curt smile that he’s mine for the day and to take my time. Rich kid perks, I guess.
The store is teeming with designers labels I care no
thing about and I dig through the shoes until I hit a jackpot. A pair of cherry red Doc’s that hit me mid calf. There a touch too big but with thick socks they’re perfect and my spirits are instantly lifted. I trawl through the jeans until I find three pairs that work for me and then I look for some booty shorts.
An hour later I leave the store with more bags than I’ve ever carried out of anywhere before and the driver has to pop the trunk and help me pile my haul in. It’s still early enough in the afternoon so I decide to stop to get a coffee. I shouldn’t be wasting money on something as frivolous as a coffee but I think of it as a reward for all of my hard work and perfect marks at Hannaford so far.
I choose one of the smaller shops because the bigger ones are overrun with Hannaford uniforms and I do not want to be accosted by one of the Beaumont’s or their loyal followers. I grab a takeaway, eager to get back to my room and get my life back in order. I chat to the barista, Emily, and I enjoy just being a teenager for a moment. She doesn’t know anything about me except that I go to Hannaford and the shock that I’m speaking to her at all is evident on her face. I find out the other students have a reputation in this town for being assholes. What a shock. When she hands me the coffee I thank her warmly and then slip back out to the alleyway.
I should have ignored the sounds coming from the tiny back parking lot.
I knew what I was hearing, I’d heard it a million times before, but curiosity killed the cat and it may someday kill me too. I move slowly and try to be silent which is hard in the kitten heels I’m forced to wear as part of the Hannaford Prep uniform. As I round the corner I get the disgusting view of Rory’s bare ass as his hips swing. He’s got Avery bent over his garishly orange Lamborghini Huracan. I can’t see her face, only the skirt pushed up over her hips and twisted in Rory’s fists as he pumps away at her. He’s grunting and swearing under his breath and I startle at the sharp crack of his palm hitting her ass.
