by K. V. Rose
Get up, I think. Get up and walk out of here.
But she doesn’t. Fine. If she doesn’t want to respect herself, why the hell should I?
I force myself to laugh. “I don’t need your sloppy seconds. Why you tie yourself down to one piece of pussy that causes you all this grief is beyond me.” I look at her again, and she looks pissed now.
Good.
“Keep your fights down, okay? It’s embarrassing.” Then I slam the door and walk out, satisfied that Jack will be too pissed off with me to take it out on her now.
As I walk down the hall to the room I keep here, I can’t help but think about running up those stairs when the glass shattered. Thinking he had hurt her. Thinking that if he had, I would kill him for it.
I’m too old for this high school bullshit.
Nine
Present
I’m up until dawn, so I text Tyler.
You up?
I don’t expect him to reply. Tyler has been my best friend since grade school, but he’s in Vancouver now on an artist’s retreat, which means it’s like three in the morning there. But Tyler keeps weird hours. I think he sleeps as much as I do.
Which is to say, hardly at all.
What’s wrong?
I smile, despite the fact that everything is wrong. At first, I think to tell him about Adam. But Tyler has always hated Adam, and right now I don’t want him to tell me about how right he was about him.
Instead, I tell him the truth. About what’s really bothering me.
I saw Caden tonight.
For a moment, there’s those three dots, indicating he’s typing. I’m sprawled on the black leather sofa in the living room of the condo, watching the sun rise beyond the wall of glass, and my heart clenches at those three dots.
Are you okay? What did he do?
Tyler doesn’t know the real story. He knows I always had a crush on Caden, and he knows we had one night together. He knows, too, that Jack died, and he knows about the video. But he doesn’t know who is really in it. I lied to him. Because I had to. Because I’ve been lying to everyone about that video for three years, and only two people know the truth of it. Tyler isn’t one of them, and he probably never will be. He thinks Caden couldn’t take my ties to his brother, after his death. He thinks that’s why he stopped speaking to me. It might as well have been.
Nothing. He saved me in an alleyway.
Three more dots.
Still wanna fuck him?
I laugh out loud, because it’s such a Tyler thing to ask. He doesn’t ask how he saved me, or what I was doing, just that. I don’t reply for a moment, even though the answer is easy enough.
If you do, Ry, you should do it. You’re only 21 once.
But even though I want to, I shouldn’t. And even though I’ve never been good at stopping myself from doing what I shouldn’t do, Caden hates me. He might not have wanted me to die in an alleyway, but that’s about all that he cares for me. Just like he probably would anyone else he saw getting cornered like that.
Caden is no angel.
But even he wouldn’t turn his head from someone getting trapped.
Besides, he told me to get out of this city. He doesn’t even live in this city. Just outside of it, but still, not in it. And it’s full of people. Four million of them.
He owns his own business. He’s a millionaire in his own right. Sure, he had the privilege of his dad’s money and his dad’s name, but he’s doing just fine on his own, doing something in tech and climate change initiatives that I don’t understand.
He knows I don’t stay here anymore. He knows I live with Mom in a different country, even. And even still, he felt he needed to tell me to leave. He hates me that much.
I close my eyes, swallowing the grief that’s threatened to engulf me for the past three years. I settle the phone on my chest, and wanting to forget all of this, I drift off to sleep.
I awaken to someone pounding on the condo door.
Pushing myself to my feet, my phone drops to the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter, reaching down to pick it up. I have six missed calls, and it’s nearly noon.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes, the pounding on my door growing louder.
“Who is it?” I call out as I stagger to the door, still disoriented.
“It’s me, Riley, open the damn door.”
My heart sinks.
It’s Adam.
He’s half of the missed calls. Rolland is the other half.
I open the door, the scene from the night before of Adam enjoying himself with those women flashing in my head.
Adam looks awful. His brown hair is disheveled, his suit jacket rumpled, and I wonder where he slept the night before. I find I don’t give a fuck.
“Oh my God, Riley.” He comes in, pulls me into a tight hug, and I stiffen beneath his hands. He smells like cigarettes and beer. He notices that I don’t hug him back, and he drops his arms and pulls back, putting his knuckles to his mouth, shaking his head. “Oh my God,” he says again. “I am so sorry, Ry. I cannot believe…I am so sorry.”
I cross my arms and see him take in the dress I’m wearing. The one I didn’t bother to change out of. His pale green eyes widen in surprise and he glances behind me, as if he expects to see someone there.
“Get out, Adam. I don’t want to talk to you.”
I wonder how he found out that I knew. Did Benji tell him that, too?
“Riley,” he manages to say, stepping into the door. I don’t move back, and he must take that as a sign that I want him to reach for me, because he does.
But I pull my arms out of his grip. “Get. Out.”
“It was fucking Benji, wasn’t it?” Suddenly, his eyes narrow and he runs a hand through his hair. “And Caden. They sent me the photo, told me…” He shakes his head and groans.
It’s almost amusing, that he doesn’t know. I keep staring at him, impassive, unblinking. Of course, it was Benji, and I kind of hate him for it, but I also don’t care. Benji may be an asshole, but he wasn’t doing anything wrong last night. That would be Adam.
Adam slams his fist against the doorway. “Fucking Caden,” he says, looking down at the floor. Then he looks back at me. “Did you fuck him? Is that why you’re doing this? Did you—”
I take a step forward, and he’s surprised, so he backs up.
“Get out. We’re done.” I slam the door in his face, click the lock closed.
He starts pounding on the door, beating against it with what I assume is his fist. Good. I hope it breaks his hand.
“I know you fucked him, Riley!” he screams at me.
I pick up the phone on the wall by the door, and call security downstairs, tell them Adam needs to be forcefully removed. They don’t ask questions and tell me someone will be up at once. In the meantime, I head for the bathroom, close the door behind me, and lock that, too.
Just in case. It shuts out Adam’s screams. I’m so over man tantrums.
I pull out my phone and ignore the voicemails that are surely from Rolland, or Adam. I hate speaking on the phone, and I never listen to voicemails.
Instead, I thumb through my texts and open the thread with Rolland. He’s threatening to come to the condo, which I don’t give a fuck about. He owns the place. He’s got a key, he can let himself in. But not until tonight, because for now, I want to be alone.
With Adam. Talk soon.
I send it and smile. Adam’s family is well-connected. Unfortunately, that means Rolland will soon find out that we aren’t together anymore, if Benji or Caden haven’t already told him. Fortunately, it means he’ll leave me the hell alone for at least a few more hours.
I strip down, glad to be out of the black dress that’s filled with the grime of the city, and set myself down in the big, marble tub. I turn on the hot water and dump in lavender oil that’s on the ledge. Then I lean back against the soft, waterproof pillow at my back, and shut my eyes. Rich people have the weirdest shit.
I’ve done nothing.
In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve done nothing. No yoga, no Pilates, no running. No academic classes, either. No working at the gym. But I’m still completely exhausted. Because being in this city reminds me of the night that changed everything. Being here is being too close to Rolland. Being here reminds me that I’m still under his thumb.
I sigh, listen to the water running into the tub, the fan humming in the background, because I can’t stand to sit in silence. I don’t remember if it always used to bother me, but since Rolland, and since Jack…I hate it. There’s too much to think about in the silence.
Even with the water running and the fan going, I still can’t block them out completely. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to forget these years of my life. If Rolland will ever back off. And I wish, not for the first time, I could tell Caden everything.
But I can’t. Because it would break him. And having him broken…that would break me, too.
Ten
May, 3 years ago
Lake Jordan is finally thawed completely out, and I’m finally out of Jack’s crosshairs. For now. He’s away on some guy’s weekend trip up north, and I’m arm-in-arm with Tyler as we make our way into the forest, the late-spring sun warming my bare arms.
“Look man, I know you don’t want to, but you’ve got to dump that asshole,” Tyler is saying. He takes a hit of the blunt in his fingers, blows out the smoke. I exaggerate a cough and he rolls his golden eyes.
We step over a puddle in the dirt path, and I see Lake Jordan glimmering ahead, sun rays bouncing off of the expanse of blue.
I shake my head. “Jack isn’t bad,” I insist, and I mean it. “He’s just…”
“A prick? Obnoxious? Possessive? Controlling?” Tyler takes another hit, holds it in, then blows it right in my face. I unwind my arm from his and take a step back.
“Speaking of pricks,” I mutter, glaring at him.
He smiles, drops the blunt, grinds it beneath his heel, then plucks it up from the dirt and shoves it in his back pocket. “Gotta protect the planet,” he says with a wink. He nods his head in the direction of the lake, and we keep walking, side by side.
“I’m serious, Ry. Dude is out of control. He didn’t even like you hanging out with me today, did he?”
I rub my hands over my arms, wishing I’d brought a light jacket. It’s not cold, exactly, but it’s not really warm, either. I don’t answer Tyler, and he elbows me in the ribs.
“Hey, that hurt!” I cry out, deflecting him.
But as we reach the bank of the lake, my scuffed, knock-off Vans sinking in the soft dirt, he turns toward me. He takes my hand gently in his. I look down at our entwined fingers, his deep brown skin against my white.
“Riley. Did you tell him?” His voice is soft, kind. So unlike Tyler’s usual manner that I feel suddenly embarrassed.
I don’t lie to him, though, so I shake my head. Then I say it out loud, because I think I need to hear it, too. “No.”
Tyler sighs, his hand squeezing mine gently. “Why not?” he prods. I knew he wouldn’t just let this go. We used to be inseparable. But in the past few months, as graduation has gotten closer and the prospect of me and Jack going to different universities has gotten very, very real, Jack’s gotten more territorial. He’s started to actually think he owns me.
“If you didn’t tell him because you were scared of what he would say, then you do understand that this is a problem, don’t you?” I finally meet Tyler’s golden gaze, his eyes piercing on mine. I swallow, but nod.
“Yeah,” I manage to say. “I do.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, pull my hand from Tyler’s.
He shakes his head. “Then why? Why are you still with him? You’re not weak, Ry. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
Because the Viranis have a place for me to run to, when Mom gets too high. When she invites too many men over, men that pay her in drugs or change that helps pay the bills. That keeps us in the shitty apartment we’re in. That even though Mr. Virani is kind of creepy and overly friendly and even though Mrs. Virani barely says two words to me every time I come over, they let me come. They don’t judge me, at least not to my face.
That I like seeing Caden there, when he comes over on the weekends. That I like the way he looks at me. Like he really sees me. Not like he wants to own me, but like he knows me. Like he cares.
I don’t say any of that. Not even to my best friend. Tyler knows what my mom is like, but he wouldn’t let me use that as an excuse. His own home life isn’t exactly peaches and cream, either. He lives with his older sister because his parents kicked him out for something he can’t help and shouldn’t have to.
“Riley.” He says my full name and takes my hands again, both of them this time. I look at a bird flying over us, high in the sky. Free. Wild. I feel a surge of jealousy toward the animal.
“I’m gay as shit. If you can’t tell Jack you’re hanging out with me, well, that’s fucking ridiculous, now isn’t it?” He snarls the last few words.
I take my hands from him again, shove them in my jean pockets. I stare out at the clear, calm lake. “I know.”
“Knowing isn’t helping you. And if it’s because of your mom, well, you can always call me, Ry.” He says it with such sincerity, and I know he means it, but of course it isn’t true. I can’t just call him whenever shit gets bad, because shit is always bad. Since Jack wants to control me, coming over to his house all the time isn’t that odd. I don’t feel like a burden, because he wants me there. Even though I’m using him, and he’s probably using me, too, in a way, it kind of works for us.
For now.
“When we go to different schools, it’ll be different.” I don’t know if I’m really telling Tyler that or if I’m saying it more to myself.
I hear Tyler sigh beside me, and then he puts his arm around my shoulder. I lean into him, savoring his warmth. His nearness. Because even though going to separate schools where Jack is concerned isn’t really an issue, to me, taking a different path from Tyler…that scares me.
But I don’t want to talk about it right now. I don’t even know if I’m going to school. I might just work full-time. Move the fuck out of Mom’s place. I’ve avoided any really messy situations so far by keeping my head on my shoulders and looking out for myself, being hyper vigilant, and generally avoiding her and her boyfriends. But I kind of want to let loose. I want someone to take care of me. I want to really live. And I won’t get that at home.
If I don’t get a really, really good scholarship, moving out will be my only option. But Tyler has already gotten several wrestling scholarships to schools I could only dream of attending. I know his real passion is art, but I also know he isn’t made out of money. He can’t exactly afford to turn down any free money at this point.
“Look, Ry, just…think about it, okay? I know you’re stubborn as hell but think about what I’m saying. I don’t want you to end up stuck with this freak because you think he cares for you or some shit. I care for you. Morgan cares for you. So many people can care for you and they don’t all have to own you while they do it.”
I nod without looking at him. It’ll be so simple, really. Jack will find another girl. He could have any girl; the fact he hasn’t found someone else by now is really the kicker. But it won’t last long. He’ll get bored of me. Until then, I’ll hold on.
Eleven
Present
“You still want her, man,” Benji says to me. He’s sipping on water and I’m drinking a beer even though it’s only the middle of the day.
Because last night was rough.
And hey, at least it’s Saturday.
I’d gone back to the club, intent on at least getting off, and shoving away all those memories of her: The feel of her hair in my hands, the look in her eyes after I saved her ass in the alleyway. Her, in that black dress.
I shake my head and finish my second beer, set it down on the table between me and Benji. We’re in a casual lunch spot called Rutgers, tucked away in the back,
because I don’t want to see anyone I know. Which means no Shade today.
“And I don’t blame you,” Benji continues. “She looked hot as fuck last night in that little black dress—”
I slam my fist on the table and glare at him. His dark eyes dance with amusement and he leans back in the booth, a smug smile on his face. I’ve known Benji since I was a kid. We grew up on the same street. Some days, he knows me better than I know myself. Which is why he should know better than to say that to me.
“All I’m saying is her nipples were—”
“If you don’t stop talking about her like that, I swear to God I will fuck you up.”
He laughs easily, and I marvel at the fact this dude ever went to prison. It didn’t harden him. He was already hardened. It just made him…indifferent. Uncaring. He doesn’t give a fuck about much of anything anymore.
He rolls up his shirt sleeves and I see the tattoos on his inner forearms. Ones he didn’t have before prison. Now, banned from working at his father’s company, he does his own thing, on the side. He still manages Shade, but he does other shit, too. And honestly, I don’t really know what that is, exactly. He hasn’t told me, and I don’t press. I know it’s enough that he bought a penthouse in one of the most expensive cities in the world, so he’s not doing too bad.
I just don’t know what kind of bad he’s doing to live like that.
“Look, man, I know that she and Jack…I know you blame her for that. But you do realize it isn’t her fault? Jack had an illness, man, and she didn’t—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My heart is slamming in my chest like it always does when I think of her, and of Jack. Of how she lied to me. How she fucked him over. How she fucked us both over.
“Actually,” Benji says, sitting up straighter and shoving his water glass over so he can put his hands on the table, “I do. I was there when you fell apart. And I’m not saying she’s a saint, but neither were you. Neither was he. We all fuck up.”
