by Mj Fields
Looking up, I see an open foyer to the two-story ceilings, where South America is painted in beautiful earth tones and one country in gold. I wish I paid more attention during geography.
“It’s Colombia,” comes from behind me.
I turn and see Gabrielle in a gold-toned dress and shoes I would die to wear right now.
“My parents moved from Colombia to the United States before I was born.”
“Your home is”—I pause and look around, somehow managing to catch one of the ball players throwing up in a vase that looks incredibly expensive—“getting trashed.”
She looks around and nods to a very big, somewhat familiar looking guy who walks over to puking boy, grabs him under the arms, and drags him toward the door.
“Is he—”
“Going to be outside until an Uber takes him home.” She rolls her eyes.
“And the vase?” I ask.
“He’ll take care of it,” she says, looking around nervously.
“He looks familiar. Does he go to Seashore?”
She looks at me and shakes her head. “You probably remember him from last weekend.”
I shake my head.
“The fight, all fights. He’s hired muscle.”
I nod. “I’m sure you have plenty of guests to entertain. I’ll let you—”
“Entertaining isn’t on tonight’s agenda. I’m mentally making a guest list for my summer parties.”
“Gonna guess that guy doesn’t make the cut, huh?”
She looks back at me and shrugs. “He was one of the fifty or so who came right after the game and helped ‘set up.’ He will probably just get a warning.”
“What gets you banned?” I ask.
She looks back at me suspiciously. “Are you looking for an out?”
I shrug. “Not sure yet.”
“Fair enough. Fighting, stealing, wandering around where you shouldn’t be wandering, fucking in my bedroom or my parents’, attempting to mess with someone who’s fucked up and can’t say no, calling the cops, messing with the hired muscle, or pissing me off in general.”
“How do people know where to wander and where not to?”
“Hired muscle.” She smiles as she scans the room. Her smile is actually quite pretty.
She looks back at me. “So, was it Tobias pleading my case, or trying to avoid Harrison that convinced you to come?”
“I knew they wanted to come”—I gesture toward my family—“and I didn’t want our issues to make them miss out on hanging with friends.”
“They’re both here, by the way.”
“Great.” I fake excited, and she smirks.
Looking away, she asks, “So, which one is it that Truth Steel has her eyes on?”
“Um, neither.” I laugh.
She looks at me, brow arched.
“Let me ask you the same question.”
She shakes her head. “Harrison was a means to acceptance. Tobias is hot as hell but never on my radar.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m … How do I say this? Feisty, dramatic, love attention. Harrison is infuriating, but when he turns on the charm, he’s actually pretty good for one’s ego. Tobias would sooner cut off his left arm than be involved in any drama.”
“So, why did you come at Kiki, and then at me, if Harrison is such an asshole?”
“I have no idea how you’ve avoided this all your life, but as Tobias pointed out to me, high school girls are attention bitches who will sell their soul for popularity. I thought I was lucky that Harrison took interest in me right away. But the reality is that he fed that need like a dealer feeds a junky, and then dropped me on my ass when you all came in. I’m always going to be some kind of bitch, but I don’t want to be that bitch.”
“So, just like that, huh?”
She shakes her head. “Trust me; it hasn’t been easy. Admitting you’re wrong never is. But a few weeks with text bombs and constant reminders of who you are becoming and who you want to be is probably like fucking conversion camp.”
“So, Harrison or Tobias bombarded you?”
“Harrison just stopped instigating me when he decided you weren’t going to just give it up, that you weren’t an attention-seeking little girl with Daddy issues and chose a different angle of attack—be nice or else I will tell everyone about how you suck dick.”
“Okay, maybe that’s TMI.”
She shrugs. “I promised to stop acting like a cornered snake. I do keep my word.”
She must read me immediately because she smiles. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me.”
“Well, let’s be honest; you did take freaking pictures outside of my bedroom.”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Not my style.”
“Then who did?”
“Someone who decided to take a stupid risk to get on my good side.”
“That’s pretty fucked up.”
“Agreed. And again, I promise not to talk shit out of jealousy around people who would legit bury a body to be here if asked.”
I feel my mouth drop open.
She shrugs. “It is what it is.”
“Have you ever?” I whisper.
She throws her head back and laughs. “No!”
“Well, it’s not really funny, considering.”
“Don’t you see? You are the most protected girl in this fucked-up circle.”
Chapter Fourteen
Idiom
Money makes the world go round.
Truth
Or destroys it and everything in its wake.
“I should go,” I tell Gabrielle, who has put her fangs away for the night.
“Understood. Thank you for making this look real.”
Oh, I see, I think.
“That came out cold. As I said, I’m working on the bitch thing. But that wasn’t me being a bitch. That was me sincerely thanking you.”
“While you’re working on the inner bitch thing, you should work on your whole RBI thing, too,” I suggest.
She smiles, and again, I think it’s genuine, but who the hell knows? The only time I’ve seen her shield down, so to speak, was around Justice.
“Before I go, let me ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have a thing for my brother?”
Her face immediately turns red. “No.”
Bullshit, I think, but instead I say, “I see.” Then I turn to walk away when she grabs my elbow. I turn around.
“There’s something about him that’s … unnerving.”
I can’t help but smile. At the same time, I have a feeling she’s got teeth … down there. “Don’t fuck with him.”
If possible, her face gets even more red. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
A hot breath hits the back of my neck as a very recognizable voice says, “Hope you brought your wallet.”
I look at Gabrielle to see her reaction, expecting a little hint of … something. She just rolls her eyes slightly and says, “The thing you just asked me not to do?”
I nod.
She raises her perfectly arched brows, and a look of malice crosses her face. “Now asking the same in return.”
She walks away, and Harrison takes her spot at my side.
“She’s something, isn’t she?”
“She’s not as bad as I had initially thought.” I look at him and smile. His look is GQ, but his aura screams Junior Healy from Problem Child.
He purses his lips. “Get to know her a little better. Her crazy shines brighter each day.”
I turn and cross my arms over my chest. “Let me ask you something.”
“The answer’s yes. The question is: how do we sneak away for a quick thirty minutes without your little crew”—he nods toward them—“catching us in the act?”
“You’re something else, you know that?”
“And you’re hard to figure out. So, what is it, Miss Steel? Flowers bought me no favor, my attempt to woo you at the game was a—”
/> “Disaster?”
He smirks and shrugs. “I suppose I forgive your father’s less than civilized—”
I palm his face and laugh as I push him back slightly. “Trust me; that was civilized.”
His eyes nearly bug out of his head. He looks shook.
“What?”
“Did you just”—his voice squeaks, and he clears his throat—“palm my face?”
“Oh my God, that offends you?”
“I’m really not sure,” he says in complete seriousness.
“Okay, cool. Well, you think on that while I go grab a drink.” I turn and walk toward my crew, laughing to myself.
“What the hell did you say to him?” Brisa laughs.
I shrug. “Not much. I need a drink.”
“You’re driving,” Patrick reminds me.
“Right. Then find me a club soda.”
Tris giggles. “You hate club soda.”
“I’ll just carry it around with my pinky stuck out.”
We grab drinks, from an actual bar, with an actual bartender, and then stand in the middle of a room full of people—teenagers. Some, I suspect aren’t teenagers, chatting amongst themselves.
Tris is looking around, transfixed by her surroundings.
“Whatcha thinking?” I ask as she sips her club soda.
She shakes her head. “That this is the lamest party at the prettiest house I’ve ever been to.”
“Prettiest house?” Max puffs. “It’s like a museum.”
“A museum filled with undersexed teens,” Amias adds.
“Don’t you mean oversexed?” Patrick asks with a brief laugh.
Amias shakes his head then tosses back his drink, also club soda, but you’d never guess it. “Not yet, man, not yet.” He nods to a group of girls dressed like runway models, minus the tits. “What time are we blowing this place?”
“Check back here in thirty,” Patrick tells him.
“Perfect,” Max says. Then he and Amias walk away.
When Patrick looks down at his phone again, Brisa and I look at each other and share a knowing glance.
“Someone sending nudes?” she asks him.
“Always someone sending nudes.” He winks.
“But are they from the one keeping your eyes glued to that screen when at least twenty girls in this room would like to drag you into the nearest closet?” I joke.
He looks around then gives me a dirty look.
“What?” I laugh.
“Don’t undershoot me. There’s way more than twenty girls in this room.”
“You’re deflecting,” Tris tells him.
He throws his arm around Tris. “I’m enjoying the company of the coolest females in the room.”
“While deflecting.” She grins.
“Nah, Tris, you’re right; this is kind of lame. I’d rather be somewhere playing music or tossing cards with you all.”
“You want cards?” Miles asks, walking up to us with Kai at his side. “There’s a fifty dollar buy-in.”
“Why is it always about the money to the people who have the most of it?” Tris asks, quite seriously in fact.
Kai scowls at her.
“Fix your face before I do,” Patrick sneers at him.
“Thanks, Tricks, but I could do some damage to it myself if necessary.” Tris shrugs. “Real nails don’t pop off like the fake shit does, pal, and they’re free.”
“Good luck finding someone who wants to breed with that one.” Miles laughs haughtily … until Patrick grabs his collar.
“Oh, hell no.” Tris forces a laugh and pushes between them, not seeing Patrick get jacked back by two of the guys hired to keep the peace.
From out of nowhere, Tobias steps in. “He’s fine.”
“You serious, Easton?” one of them sneers.
Tobias doesn’t say a word, just glares at him.
“You make sure you let Gabrielle know this was your call,” the other says.
“This is Patrick Steel, Justice’s cousin,” Gabrielle says from behind me. “You want to work tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Whatever you say,” he huffs then walks away.
“Listen, you right swaying, small-dicked pussy boy,” Tris spits at Miles.
“Right your girl,” Tobias whispers from behind me.
I look over my shoulder at him then point at Miles’s crotch. “I’m pretty sure she’s right.”
A smile tugs on his lips, and in the blink of his eye, it’s gone. “Then maybe, instead of perfecting trash talk, you should figure out where to hit a man where it actually hurts. Newsflash: it’s not dick jokes.”
“Now, see? You said man.” I look around then back to him. “Not seeing any that fit that bill here, besides the one who just stuck up for a girl who was wronged.”
Again, he fights a smile. “So, small dick jokes, it is.”
I can’t help but look down at him, and then I can’t help but take the slow, scenic route back up to his gorgeous eyes. “If the boot fits …”
“Your name being Truth, I expected you’d speak it.” He glowers at me.
I turn fully, facing him, and look up. “I’m not sure I remember. How about a reminder?”
His eyes widen, nose flares, jaw locks, fists ball, and he steps past me and between Miles and Tris, who is still ripping Miles a new asshole as half the room watches, whispering and laughing, and for the first time, I’m pretty damn sure it’s not at any of us.
“Let’s go,” Tobias hisses at them.
And … they do.
“Well, that was fun.” Brisa laughs as we walk down the brick-paved driveway.
“If, by fun, you mean a waste of three hours of our lives, then yeah, it was a fucking blast.” Patrick chuckles.
“God, he’s so gross. Breed me?” Tris snaps, obviously still stewing over the Miles shit. Then she turns, walking backward, and points to all the boys. “You m’fers ever talk to a girl like that, I will cut you.”
“And what if Marcello ever—”
“He wouldn’t.” And even under the moonlight, we see her face turn red.
“For real, Tris!” Amias yells at her.
She turns around. “He’s good to me.”
“You just made him sound like a fucking sugar daddy, and I now want to puke and punch him in the face.” Max gags.
“Hold up,” Patrick whispers as he looks down the hill toward the road.
“Is that the cops?” I whisper.
“Yeah, Truth, and not just a couple.”
“Fuck, we can’t go down there. I’ll get kicked off the team,” Amias hisses quietly.
“Anyone have message rights on The Sound yet?” I ask, thumbing through my phone, hoping to find that Justice hasn’t erased everyone’s messages without a number.
“No.”
“We have to warn them,” I say, starting back toward the house.
“Not our battle,” Brisa calls softly from behind me.
“It is now.” I hobble faster.
“Fuck, T,” Max groans. “Get on my back.”
Throwing open the door, the first person I see is Tobias, who rolls his eyes at me.
“Get over it, asshole,” I snap.
As soon as he gets close enough, I smell alcohol.
“What the hell did you just call—”
“Cops are at the end of the driveway,” Patrick interrupts him.
“And, by cops, he means lots and lots of them,” Tris says nervously.
“Where’s Gabrielle?”
Tobias whistles loudly and nods to the guy spinning the tunes. The music dies, and all eyes are on him.
“Cops are here,” he says, and whispered panic floods the room. “Those of you who know the drill, grab the newbies and go.”
“Dude, what’s going on?” a very drunk guy asks.
“Sober the fuck up and follow them.” He points toward the crowd heading toward the back of the house.
Pot, meet kettle, I think, but decide not to say it. As titillating as it is t
o get into it with Tobias, there are more pressing matters.
“Where is Gabby?”
“Probably hiding in her room,” Tobias snaps.
“Where—”
“Stairs to the left, last door, end of hall,” he says then looks over me and yells, “Let’s fucking go!”
Patrick yells behind me, “T, we got to go!”
“I’ll catch up. Get them out of here!” I yell to him.
“Truth!” he yells.
“Just go!”
Running, hopping, and hobbling down the longest hallway I’ve ever hurried down, I finally make it to her door and consider knocking, but fuck that.
“Gabrielle, the cops are here!”
“Lovely,” she sighs out while walking out of what I assume is the bathroom, toweling her hair.
“You took a shower in the middle of your own party?”
“I felt dirty.”
“Okay, well, get dressed and let’s go.”
She shrugs. “Go where?”
“You can come to my house.”
“Um, no.” She shakes her head back and forth quickly.
“Then Tobias’s,” I say as I hop my way to her dresser and rummage through it.
“I’m not dragging him down in this shit. He’s almost out of here.”
I turn and look at her. “Um, focus! Let’s go!”
She takes her undies and bra from me. “Go, or you’ll get labeled for being my friend.”
“And as new and foreign as that word describing us feels to say, as your friend, I’m gonna give it to you straight. I’m not fucking leaving you here to deal with cops, or angry parents, or any of that shit, so you either come with me, or I’m staying here to make sure you’re all right.”
“That’s like year three of friendship,” she says in a blasé manner.
I grab and shake her. “Well, we do shit differently, so let’s go!”
Tears fill her eyes as she starts to get dressed quickly. “I need sweatpants and a—”
“These?” I hold up a pair of sweatpants.
“I prefer the black Fendi’s”
“Jesus, even your sweats are boujee,” I say as I toss them to her.
