by S Doyle
We certainly weren’t lovers. He’d had one of those already. Which meant I really needed to start thinking about who I was going to select to do the deed for me. Currently, I was as unemotional about losing my virginity as I was about having my wisdom teeth removed. Perhaps I should place a bet on myself.
“…Fashion Show and the two of you can host.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Havisham,” I said, forcing myself to focus on what she was saying. “What did you say?”
“It’s the Annual Fall Fashion Show. Our biggest charity fundraising event of the school year.”
Of course I was aware of the Fall Fashion Show. It was an Haddonfield High tradition and yet one more way to separate the Snobs from the Havenots. Not to mention a way to select the school’s most attractive students.
“Yes,” I said. “I know what the Fashion Show is but what does that have to do with me?”
I certainly couldn’t afford to buy anything. And there was no way I’d model.
Not that I’d be asked.
“I’m sure she wants us to model,” Fitz said.
Wait. Did he say us? “You think I could be a model?”
“Why couldn’t you be?” he asked as if I was the thickheaded one.
“Actually, that’s not what I’m asking from you two. We need masters of ceremonies. As you’re two of my strongest performers, I thought it an excellent idea for you both to host.”
“Host? Together?” I asked.
“Seems we’ll be doing a lot of things together this year,” Fitz said.
No. That would mean rehearsals and more time spent with him. Alone. “You can’t possibly do this. How can you fit in with football?”
“You must not have been paying attention. The event is on a Sunday which won’t interfere with my games and we can rehearse whenever both of our schedules allow it.”
“But I have to work now in the evenings.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re back to the working at The Club?”
“I never stopped working at The Club. Javier, remember?”
His eyes narrowed further.
“So it sounds like, it will just be you, Fitz,” Miss Havisham concluded. “If you can’t work it into your schedule, Beth.”
It was for charity, which means I could add it to the community service paragraph of my college applications. Of course I had to do it.
“I’ll make it work. I always make it work.”
“Excellent. I’ll let the vice principal know. Now you better be off if you’re going to make your fourth periods.”
I left the classroom without looking at him, but it didn’t take a second for him to catch up with me. Damn him and his long legs.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“My locker. I need my laptop.” As it was still between periods the hallway was relatively empty except for the random straggler on her way to the bathroom. “Why would you agree to host the fashion show? That’s so not you.”
“It makes sense to be a part of anything that’s happening in this school. The Fall Fashion Show is the next biggest event other than the football games, and the Cotillion, which isn’t for months. The more I see what’s happening at the school, the more I’ll know. The real question is why would you want to have anything to do with the fashion show.”
That stopped me. It was true. I didn’t have Star’s style. In fact, I had no style. Even Mary had a consistent way of dressing: modestly. The twins: shamelessly.
I couldn’t be bothered. As long as I was covered and warm all clothes looked the same to me.
How the hell was I going host a fashion show?
“Ugh.” I threw myself against a wall of lockers and heard the rattle of them as one lock dug into my back. “Someone tell me how Miss Havisham plugged in debate performance and concluded fashion show host.”
“She knows we’re both comfortable on stage. Not many people are. You’ve got a presence few have when speaking and I’m certain everything we need to say about the actual fashion will be written out on cards for us.”
I blinked. “Wait. Was that a compliment? That part about having a presence.”
He smiled. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me throwing compliments at your feet. We might be working together toward a single objective, Bennet, but don’t get carried away.”
“Last Friday you said you didn’t want to be enemies,” I reminded him.
He moved closer to me, but as my back was already pressed into the lockers I had nowhere to go.
“Didn’t mean I wanted us to be friends. Because really, Beth I don’t see how that could work, either. There seems to be a certain amount of—what’s the right word?—tension. Between us. We don’t rub together easily, do we?”
“I don’t want you rubbing against me at all. For all I know your summer girlfriend left you with a nasty STD.”
He braced himself against the lockers, his arms on either side of my head as he bent even closer so that only I could hear what he said.
“She wasn’t my girlfriend. She was my lover. See, you can’t even get the words right. For instance, is Javier your boyfriend or your fuck-toy?”
“Javier is none of your business.”
“On the contrary you’ve made him my business. Twice now. It’s almost like you’re shoving him in my face for some reason. Why would you do that, Beth? You’re not trying to make me jealous, are you?”
His face was too close to mine. His body was too close to mine. He had me virtually trapped against the lockers without any escape and, in another second, I was going to do the thing I said I would never do in front of him.
Beg. Except I wasn’t exactly sure what I would be begging him for.
Fortunately, I was saved by a bell ringing announcing the end of the period. Doors opened and students started pouring into the halls. Fitz backed off freeing me from his cage.
“This isn’t over, Bennet.”
I watched his back as he walked away, watched how very subtly everyone moved to give him his space. I was surprised some of the underclassmen didn’t bow.
He was right. This definitely was not over between us.
Whatever this was.
7
Fitz
“A fashion show? Seriously?” Heath asked.
We were together in what we referred to as the playroom in my house. It was my dad’s version of a tricked-out game room. PlayStations, huge gaming monitors. Big comfortable leather chairs where my dad and I could play Call of Duty for hours. Not to mention the throwbacks like a pool and foosball table. Shuffleboard, too.
There was a bar, where Heath helped himself to one of my dad’s beers.
I shrugged. “It’s one night. Another opportunity to have the student body together in one room, maybe see something suspicious. I don’t know.”
“You’re reaching,” Ed said. “If there is an underground book being run, it’s not going to suddenly pop up at a fashion show.”
“Probably not,” I agreed. However, it did mean one-on-one practice time with Beth.
“You need to get the new kid to do it,” Ed said.
“Who, Locke?” Heath asked. “That guy’s a pompous jerk. I don’t give a fuck if he’s British, someone needs to remove the stick from his ass.”
I looked to Ed. “He really knew your phone code?”
Ed frowned but nodded.
“How?”
“I have no fucking clue. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“You’re sure?”
He didn’t answer which made me think he was lying. But why lie about something like that?
“We need to figure out how he guessed it,” Ed said.
“There’s only one answer. He had to see you key it in at some point,” I decided. “Like Janie said. It’s just a parlor trick. So he’s observant.”
“He’s got no reason to help you,” Heath pointed out. “His sister’s virtue is not at risk, after all.”
I sighed. “Maybe I should just tell my dad.”
>
He’d put an end to it all. He’d call the principal or threaten to sue. Hell, he might go so far as to pull Gigi out of school. My dad was not subtle when it came to solving problems. He tended to land like a wrecking ball. And even with all that I don’t know that it would do any good.
He might remove Gi from risk, but the betting wouldn’t stop. Beth’s sisters would still be in play.
“You know what he’ll do, if you tell him,” Ed reminded me. He was familiar with my father’s wrecking ball tendencies. He’d burn the school down before letting someone potentially hurt Gigi and, by doing so, would make me public enemy number one.
“No, you’re right. We’ve got to do this on our own. Keep it quiet,” I said. “The harder part is going to be giving all the money back. Without smashing everyone’s face in who made a bet.”
“You have to figure it’s Wick,” Heath said. “He was so ready to tell you about it. About Gi. Bringing her to The Woods like that. He’s almost begging you for a fight. Why don’t you give him one?”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “You want me to fight Wick?”
Heath shrugged and took another guzzle of beer. “Why not? Unless you think you can’t beat him.”
“You think I can’t take Wick in a fight?”
Another careless shrug. “Don’t know. Have you ever actually been in a fight? I mean, I’ve known you, what, five, six years now, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take a swing at anyone.”
I snorted. “I’ve never taken a swing at anyone, because I’ve never had to. Brain always wins over brawn.”
“Says the privileged son,” Heath retorted. “When I was in the foster home I had to learn how to fight. Fast. How to take a hit, how to give one. Talking out my issues was not an option for me. Not going to lie, I’m glad I had to do it. Made me grow up faster.”
That made get out of my comfortable leather chair. Stand to my full height, which was nearly three inches over Heath. “So I’m not a man until I’ve hit someone? Is that what you’re saying?”
Heath held up his hands in protest. “You’re putting words in my mouth. I’m just telling you how it was for me. In the foster home. Things were a bit more…real.”
“Real?” I repeated, suddenly pissed. “You think I don’t know real? My father is an activist for social justice. My mother is a U.S. Senator who also happens to be married to a black man. My family gets death threats from white supremacist groups every day. Don’t fucking talk to me about real.”
“Fitz, calm down. You don’t have to go all angry young black man on us. We get it.” Ed said, even as he was focusing on his phone.
“Oh, the two white boys in the room get it. I’m so glad.”
“Look,” Heath interjected. “All I meant was, you know damn well the person behind all this is Wick. You really want to do something about it, then doing something about him.”
Ed stood and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “He’s got a point, Fitz. Let’s just talk to Wick again. No one around to watch. We’ll get him after practice and, between the three of us, we’ll lean on him a little. Wick is nothing if he’s not pretty to all the girls in school. We threaten to change his face and that might be enough.”
It wasn’t going to be enough. Wick was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t do something as bold as bring Gi to The Woods without having a sense of what my retaliation would be.
Which meant he was expecting it.
“No. I have a better way,” I tapped my head. “Brains over brawn.”
Wednesday Night
The Club
Wednesday night dinners at The Club were a family ritual. When my mother could make it, of course. We always reserved a table for the eight p.m. seating and, if Washington politics and the train schedule were being kind, my mother had no problem making it home in time.
Tonight was not one of those nights. So it was just me, Gigi and Dad.
Technically The Club was the Tavistock Golf and Country Club. Adjacent to Haddonfield, it was located in the town of Tavistock, which consisted of one winding road and a handful of multi-million-dollar mansions. Some of the most expensive real estate in all of New Jersey.
Wealthy people lived in Haddonfield. Billionaires lived in Tavistock.
The club had several dining rooms, most often used for weddings and funerals and such. But there was also a full-time restaurant downstairs that featured subpar bar food. One didn’t come to The Club for the fine dining experience.
One came to be seen.
As my dad was often the only black man in the room, he loved coming to The Club. A reminder to all the white people that our time was coming, he would say. My dad owned a lot of flashy gold jewelry and diamonds but never wore any of it. Unless we were coming to The Club. Then it was bling city almost to the point of embarrassment.
My mother thought it was cute how the liked to show off his blackness for all the white people. I thought it only underscored the point he wasn’t quite as comfortable in his skin as he said it was. Otherwise, why the costume?
It was an argument we frequently had, but not tonight. Instead, I was focused on much more pressing issues.
“Is that Beth Bennet?” Gigi asked, trying to see inside the kitchen where Beth was working.
“Yes, she works here,” I said as if it was no big deal. “Didn’t you see her here over the summer?”
Gigi shrugged. “I guess I didn’t notice. Why is she working?”
My dad snorted. “Why does anyone work? For money.”
“But she’s a Bennet. They don’t need money.”
My dad looked over his shoulder to where Beth was hauling a tray of dishes onto her shoulder and pushing open the kitchen door.
“Yeah, she does.”
“Why do you think that?” I asked. “She told me she took the job because she’s picking up conversational Spanish from other bus boys.”
My dad leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach, full from an average hamburger and barely warm fries.
“Son, you don’t do that kind of physical labor to learn conversational Spanish. If you’re rich you buy the Rosetta Stone, or some bullshit software program. That girl needs money and she’s hustling for it. Probably trying to impress management enough to let her wait tables. That’s where the real money is.”
“Oh my God, how embarrassing,” Gigi said.
“Why is that embarrassing?” I asked.
She looked at me like I was a dumbass. “Fitz, she knows all these families who are eating here. She has to wait on them and, like, ask for tips.”
“Princess, I love you, but you sure are a rich bitch snob.” Then my dad clapped his hands together and chuckled gleefully. “I love it. So what do we think happened to the Bennet fortune?”
“I know her dad’s been away,” I said, considering this new angle. That Beth needed to work. “He’s on a sabbatical.”
“Sabbatical,” my dad repeated. “Sounds like a fancy white word for got shot of.”
“You think Mr. Bennet left his wife?”
It didn’t sound right. Divorce wasn’t common in Haddonfield. These families stayed together. Yet another privilege of money that you could afford to have things like vacation homes where people could go to get away from their spouses for a time. Or forever.
But that wasn’t the same thing as divorce.
“Don’t know. Not really my business anyway, I suppose. Why is it yours?”
“Because Fitz likes her,” Gi said with an evil smile.
“What?” I asked, my voice raising so that other diners turned in our direction. “I do not. I do not.”
“You’re always following her around and trying to get her to talk to you.” Gigi taunted me. “If you didn’t like her, why would you do that?”
“I’m not always following her around.” I turned to my dad. “She’s the competition. Academically in my grade. I keeps tabs on her just to see where I stand against her. That’s all.”
“Hmm. Well, okay t
hen. Let’s hope she gets promoted soon because the service around here sucks. Son, go up to the bar and get me another Scotch and soda.”
“They won’t serve me. I’m underage.”
He gave me a pitying look as if to suggest I still didn’t understand things about the world I lived in.
“They’ll serve you. You tell them it’s for me. Javier is working the bar tonight. He’ll know.”
Javier? I didn’t need any more encouragement. I stood and moved through the dining tables to the far end of the room. The bar was long, built for two bartenders to work comfortably side by side. However, as there were no events tonight, it was only Javier and a bar back who were working it.
Of course, I knew who Javier was. I’d seen him on enough occasions and since Beth had mentioned his name, I made it a point to watch out for him when I could.
Average height, dark hair, dark eyes. He spoke perfect English but with a Spanish accent. I didn’t have the nerve to ask where he’d come from.
He was older, obviously, than Beth and me. Maybe twenty-five. Objectively handsome. And by the way he greeted me with a large smile, it was evident he had no idea how much I loathed him.
“Scotch and soda. For my dad,” I said when he hesitated for second. Of course he knew my dad. The planet knew my dad. Most would jump to fill his every request. Javier was no exception.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He nodded even as he poured the Scotch.
“Do you know Beth Bennet?”
“Yes. She works here at the Club.”
Do you have sex with her in closets?
“Are you two friends?” I asked.
“I’m sorry?”
Do you fuck her?
“You know, acquaintances?”
“Uh, sure,” he said, sliding the glass toward me. “Do you know Beth?”
“We go to school together. She mentioned…”
“Fitz! What are you doing?”
I smiled at the sound of her voice and slowly turned. This was going to be delicious. She dropped a tray of clean glasses on the bar and Javier scooped them up and started placing them in some order under the bar.
