Divine: A Novel

by Jayce, Aven

  Our emails back and forth get nastier as the years go by and I’m in no mood to read any of them right now, or ever.

  There’s a Donor folder, but it doesn’t contain anything unusual. She actually had everything documented and the photocopies of the checks show they were made out to the university, not to her.

  I keep looking. It’s obvious she made a copy of every word she ever received so something’s gotta be here.

  What a hoarder.

  Yep, like you.

  No, this is fucking extreme and obsessive. Everything’s been organized alphabetically, as well as by date. She was OCD or something.

  After an hour of looking at every label of every folder, I come to the last one in the final drawer. The name Hannah Zorn stares back at me.

  I pull it out and begin sifting through every interaction, conversation, final grades, a three-page paper on how to repair a sock with holes, thank you cards, Christmas greetings to her favorite professor, emails detailing the assignments in my classes and what was said in my classroom from day to day, an email about creating a petition for the Dean.

  What an asswipe!

  But in the back of her folder are a group of emails that make my eyes widen and my heart race.

  “Fucking balls,” I gasp. “That wench!” I stand and pace with the folder in hand. “I can’t believe this! I’ll kill her!”

  I slam and lock Maragaret’s back door, stomp to my office, grab an important item off my desk, and walk furiously to the alumni center.

  “Get the fuck out of my way!” I yell at the sorority girls gathered out front. “Move. Now!”

  I push my way inside, not caring that I step on the toe of the one wearing sandals, or that I accidentally butt into the one with the full soda that spills down the front of her dress. I feel so humiliated, and angry, and so goddamn deceived by this human being.

  She’s not human.

  Dan’s talking to one of his employees and he can tell immediately when I rush toward him that something’s wrong.

  “Div, what the heck happened, your face is bright red.”

  “Here,” I shove the folder into his chest and turn swiftly in Hannah’s direction.

  I approach her and her oozing, pus-filled performance she’s been putting on for weeks, look down at the item in my hand (the brown paper bag from my office), and dump all the dead flies that I’ve been gathering from my windowsill onto her head. She screams as her father rushes over and grabs my hand, but it’s too late. The decaying flies are stuck in her hair, on her shoulders, and have fallen down inside the front of her dress.

  “I hope you rot in Hell, you fucking liar!” I yell.

  I turn and see that Richard has eyes the size of cantaloupes, and then I toss him his keys and say something I’ll never regret.

  “I resign.”

  Dan clutches my hand and pulls me out of the room and through the back door. I’m pressed against the side of a Keller catering van and my mouth is forced against his in a devouring kiss.

  “This is crazy, Div. Where did you find this?” he opens the folder and looks inside once more. “I just can’t believe this is happening. You’re like my four leaf clover.”

  “Cole’s office,” I smirk. “Campus Operations will be able to track it as well. Those are campus email addresses so there’s a record.”

  “Jesus!” he laughs with a drunken shit-eating grin on his face. “Is this legal? I mean that you took it, can I use it?” he speaks anxiously. “This is good. This is fucking amazing. This... this is, no you, YOU ARE incredible.” He grips my shoulders and I collapse into his arms.

  I have tears in my eyes. Not from his words, but from the expression on his face. His joy is starting to slowly subdue some of my anger.

  “I was asked to look for donor information Margaret might have stockpiled in her cave. And considering today’s event, my Chair’s request to look for those files isn’t unusual. Money’s on everyone’s mind. I wasn’t over there sneaking around, the keys were handed to me in plain sight of everyone at that luncheon, and I came across the folder legally. Use it.”

  Evil did I dwell: lewd I did live. A palindrome, just like Hannah. She’s the same from the left as she is from the right and she’ll always be that way.

  Dammit, I’m mad.

  That’s another one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bridgette admitted to the detectives working the case that she was involved in taking the Cherokee, but that Hannah was the one behind the wheel, not her.

  That would’ve been impossible to prove. Hannah would’ve denied she even saw Bridgette that night if it hadn’t been for the emails I came across in Margaret’s office; a string of emails between Hannah and Margaret about Luke’s death. I only saw a few pages before storming out of the office, but it was enough to know I had struck gold. And then, when I read the rest... holy fucking shit!

  Basically Hannah thought Luke was cheating on her. She got wasted with Bridgette, then the two of them followed him on his bike ride to see if he was off to be with another woman.

  Hannah knew Luke would recognize her car, so Bridgette suggested they borrow, as she so eloquently put it, Dan’s Cherokee.

  Ah, those wonderful college days filled with gossip, broken hearts, and jealous women. Luckily, I never got involved in any of that shit.

  What a mess.

  But Luke Barnes wasn’t murdered. No one set out to kill him. It was an accident. Hannah and Bridgette took a drive along his usual route near the outskirts of town and they didn’t see him until it was too late.

  I’m sure being drunk didn’t help much either.

  Both girls were in a panic and they turned to Margaret for help. And Margaret... dear old hag-bag Margaret Cole was her usual conniving self, promising to get them out of the pickle (her term in an email) they were in. The pickle.

  And her suggestion? Keep your mouths shut. That’s what she wrote. Don’t say a word to anyone, even if someone else is falsely accused; save yourselves instead. Go about your normal business and come up with an alibi for the night.

  That email was just a few hours after it happened, and Hannah really did play drunken volleyball with her friends, going about her normal routine.

  This town is full of fucking halfwits.

  Wait, it gets crazier. Here’s the kicker.

  According to Bridgette, Margaret was the one who asked her and Hannah to break into my home to look for something, anything, she could use to get me fired; a totally separate incident from Luke’s death. What the fuck? I mean, seriously? What would be in my place? Did I walk off with one of the Macs from the computer lab? Or steal artifacts from the campus museum and stash them in my house?

  Yes, I’m being sarcastic.

  Damn her to Hell!

  Okay, I have to keep reminding myself that the woman was fucking senile, because if I don’t, I’ll wind up going completely insane.

  After everything, I’m at a loss for words. If I did have anything left to say about Margaret Cole, it’d be - ding, dong, the witch is dead.

  And Dan’s just flat out furious that his sister only came forward because of his arrest, not to mention it took her four days even after the fact. We get that Bridgette and Hannah were scared shitless after it happened, but that’s no excuse. I don’t remember being that immature at nineteen, but at the same time I know people like that exist in this world (or inside my head).

  Hey!

  I was immature in other ways. We all did stupid shit at one time or another, or recently, like dumping a bag of flies on someone’s head. But this was someone’s life and I hope, for once, Hannah gets what she deserves.

  And since resigning, I’ve had plenty of time on my hands to think about all of this, but I haven’t had more than five minutes with Dan since last weekend at the alumni luncheon. We’ve been texting and talking on the phone each day, but he’s taken over his parents’ business while they’re dealing with Bridgette and he’s still doing his usual marketing from hom
e. In other words, he’s fucking working his ass off. But, we meet on the sidewalk for a kiss in the early morning while he’s stretching for his morning jog and today he asked if I had any free time later on to hang out at his place.

  Free time? I think he was joking.

  I haven’t done much besides look for a new job. I don’t have a lot in savings and I couldn’t collect any life insurance money after my father’s death because he committed suicide. I wonder if he was aware of that or if he thought I’d be okay without it?

  He really should’ve left a note.

  The money I received from selling his house, our house, got me through college, but nothing more. My books sales are steady, but it’s not going to be enough. So I’m looking. I’ll find something soon. Even if it means working at the grocery store, so be it. And I won’t be embarrassed if that’s where I end up, as long as I’m happy and no longer dealing with the craziness of academic life, I’ll be fine.

  I already cleaned out my office and turned in my keys. The sooner I had everything out of there, the better. And no one said a word to me while I was there as if I didn’t even exist, and there have been no emails or phone calls, not even from Richard. I guess that’s fine. Fucking assholes.

  And now, after spending most of my day going over finances and looking through job postings online, it’s time. James Daniel Keller... fuck yeah! I’ve got to get ready for my man.

  It seems like forever since you’ve seen his dick, and thank God your period’s over. Stay naked so you can get down and dirty right away. And touch up your vag area so it’s pretty.

  It’s only four and he’s already knocking on my door. I told him I’d be over at four-thirty. What the... oh crap. I’m not even fully dressed and yeah, the vag, I’m not ready.

  I close and tie the front of my fleece robe and race downstairs to peer through my peephole. Kristen Keller. It’s not Dan, it’s his mother and she’s holding a pie.

  I open the door gripping the neck area of the robe tightly and stand in my doorway in order to conceal my home. My place is better; less cluttered, especially the front room, but I’m still torn as to what to do with my dining area.

  “Divine!” His mother steps forward and squeezes through. Well, that didn’t work. She scurried inside like a tiny mouse.

  Her eyes stay focused on me instead of my home. And she’s happy. Ecstatic actually.

  “I just had to stop by and tell you in person how much you mean to this family. James Daniel said meeting you has been like winning the lottery and I don’t disagree. Here, have a pie.”

  I’m sure my cheeks are flush, and as usual, the Keller family is just downright weird.

  “Thank you,” she pulls me into a hug, nearly squashing the pie against my chest. I hold it off to the side as she finishes her friendly embrace and steps back with a giant smile. “Thank you for coming across that information and for giving it to James Daniel. Our daughter’s still in a heap of trouble, but she shouldn’t see any jail time since she wasn’t behind the wheel.”

  “You’re welcome and thanks for the pie.”

  “Apple. Dan’s favorite. He said he was seeing you tonight and so I thought I’d leave you two with a little treat.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “He’s not home or I would’ve left it there. He’s probably out buying you something special for the evening, like beer.”

  “Did you tell her how much our son enjoys pie?” Dan’s father says, as he walks through my front door. “Whoa, Holy Moses.” He covers his eyes. “She’s wearing that robe again.”

  “Oh shut it, Greg, she wasn’t flashing you, she was flashing our son. And I didn’t buy them a pie as a sexual reference.”

  Okay. I really love Dan’s parents. Even with everything they’re going through they’re still happy and playful. What wonderful people. They’re twisted and silly, but wonderful.

  Greg uncovers his eyes and follows Kristen into my living room. Where the hell are they going?

  “Umm, I’m sorry, I need to get ready.”

  “Oh pfft,” Kristen throws her hand downward. “James Daniel can wait. Are these your parents?” She points to the photos.

  “Yes.”

  “You look just like your mother,” she says.

  “She was pretty. Uh,” I pause. “I didn’t mean that in an egotistical way, she, about me I mean, she was, she.” I stop and just nod. “I should get dressed, Dan said four-thirty, so...”

  “Wow, now those are something else. Look at all those things, Greg.” she says, heading toward the dining room.

  I’m trying my best to be polite. I can’t kick them out. That would be rude. If the photos were still on the walls Kristen would’ve been out the front door immediately, but these things are kind of pretty, they’re just a bit overwhelming.

  “I’ve been meaning to put them away, somewhere, you know, they’re big and take up a lot of space, well, some are small, and I know they’re in the way, look, you can barely walk through to get to my kitchen, and it looks like a mess because there are so many of them, and they can’t go in the basement because I don’t want them to get moldy or smell like mildew, and...” I ramble on.

  “Has Dan seen these?” Greg cuts in.

  “No,” I reply. “They’re sort of, um, shit they’re just embarrassing, don’t you think? I’ve never shown them to anyone. I had them in storage until I moved here.”

  “Oh Divine! You have to show him!” Kristen insists. “He’d love these. Have you seen what’s in his basement?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m unsure if I want to go down there.”

  “She read the books,” Kristen says to her husband. “Don’t worry, I promise he doesn’t have any women in cages,” she laughs.

  “You’ve read the trilogy?”

  “I’m his mother. Of course I read it.”

  “Not me,” Greg cuts in. “I love J.D. to death, but I knew after the first couple of chapters it wasn’t my kind of book. Too much cock and pussy on every page, and I don’t think he would’ve written it if he was getting laid.”

  “Gregory!” Kristen scolds. “He explained to us in great detail what that story was about and I’m proud to have such an intelligent son.”

  “Nope,” Greg says. “It’s still a lot of cock and pussy.”

  Kristen rolls her eyes and I laugh. It’s good to finally joke about Hayden Night.

  “Come on Kristen, stop meddling,” Greg says. “Let’s be on our way so Divine and J.D. can enjoy their pie.”

  I lead them out and say goodbye as well as thank you, still holding my robe closed with one hand and a pie with my other.

  Sweet people.

  And as soon as they disappear out of the neighborhood, I race inside, set the pie down, run up my stairs, and throw off my robe. And here I am, wearing only underwear when who the heck do you think would be approaching my back door holding something behind his back? Oh fuck.

  Dan taps lightly on the glass, standing within eyeshot of my tits. Yes, my tits.

  I look down, then he looks down. I cover them and he waves his finger with a grin, then I open the door to laughter, which I’m glad I was able to offer. I forgot for a second that we’ve fucked. He’s seen it. He’s seen all of it.

  “I wasn’t flashing you.”

  “Uh-huh. You know if you’re going to look this hot every day, it’ll make me feel like I’ve already made it to heaven.”

  I blush, and see he’s dressed nicely in the outfit he wore last time we catered that evening party - dangling cross and all.

  “Here, I got you something today from Hobby Barn.” He presents me with a bunch of flowers.

  I smile and take them from his hand. “They’re fake,” I laugh.

  “Yeah, they’ll never die.”

  “Sweet... holy fuck, they’re scented?” I sniff away and he continues to stare at my body.

  “What are you doing here?” I pick up my robe and quickly cover myself before putting the flowers on my dresser. “I un
derstand I always tell you to go around back when you come over, but I thought I was meeting you at your place. Are we going out or something?”

  He shakes his head and steps inside. “I really wanted a night off, a night just for us, but the guy I put in charge just cancelled on me twenty minutes ago. He said he’s sick. I’m really sorry, Div. And I hate to seem so crass like I’m just using you for a fuck, but do you think I could see you in about four hours? I know that sounds awful, but at least it’s something.”

  I look at him standing before me in an exhausted state with his eyes half open. I wonder if his parents realize how hard he’s been working. Two full-time jobs and worrying about his sister, driving here and there and taking care of random everyday things like laundry, groceries, and bills. God, I have to help him. I feel so bad.

  Div? Are you thinking about serving cheese again?

  I open my closet and dig through my clothing, pulling out a white blouse and a black skirt, a staple in every professional woman’s wardrobe.

  “Well then, I need to do whatever I can to help. I’m coming along.”

  “What?” he says.

  He moves closer and places his hand on my arm, with his mouth parted slightly as if he’s speechless. “I was only playing around weeks ago when I took you to work with me. You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to do this.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “But we haven’t finished talking about the books and all that bullshit. I feel like you should still be angry with me about certain things. I wanted us to have this evening to get everything out in the open.”