Crown of York

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Fuck,” I whisper under my breath.

  This is like some sort of spy shit, except that we’re the bad guys.

  “And if you got a thumbs down?” I ask. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” Jamie says, shrugging. “That means that they didn’t want her. So, I could take her home and she was free to go.”

  “So, you could sleep with them then?” I ask.

  “Nope, still couldn’t.” He shakes his head, disappointed. “Not if I wanted to get paid the ten grand.”

  “So, you got paid either way?”

  He nods in agreement.

  “I got a bit of a bonus for knocking them out and driving them to the airport,” he says. “Is that all? Can I go now?”

  He starts to walk away, but I pull on his shirt and place him back in front of me.

  “Fuck, what is it with this place!” he exclaims.

  “It won’t take too long,” I say. “So, how is it that you ended up being a server here?”

  “I just did. I did good bringing in those girls and someone from the organization contacted me and said that they’d like to offer me a job here. On sight, he called it. I didn’t realize that I would be fucking serving people.”

  “So, you just came here and you didn’t know what you were going to do?”

  “Hell no! I was a server in Nantucket. I had enough with serving rich people ridiculous food dressed in a tuxedo. I thought that I was going to do something fun. Something else. But that’s where they put me. First in the kitchen as a dishwasher, and then in the front of the house. Well, fuck that.”

  I nod, taking it all in. He asks if he can go now and I give him a nod. I follow him back up to the car and watch as he opens the door.

  “Hey!” Jamie yells back to me.

  “What?” I take a few steps closer to him.

  “That Everly girl from Philly,” he says. Him saying her name makes my blood start to boil.

  “What about her?”

  “She must be one good fuck, huh?”

  I slam my fist straight into the bridge of his nose.

  One punch.

  It’s all it takes.

  His head bobs back as if it’s attached on a string. A moment later, he’s moaning and cradling his nose with his palms.

  Blood splatters everywhere.

  I nod to the driver to help get him inside the car.

  When the door closes, I no longer hear the profanities that are pouring out of him.

  Chapter 22 - Everly

  When we chat…

  The following morning after my date with Easton, all I want to do is to stay in bed and relax. But I can hear their voices downstairs and I know they’re expecting a full blow by blow recap of everything that happened.

  I wash my face, brush my hair and teeth. I put on some eyeliner and eyebrow tint as well as some mascara. I rarely wear foundation and typically concentrate all of my makeup on the eye region. I also hate the taste of anything on my lips at any time, let alone first thing in the morning, so I skip the lipstick.

  The makeup isn’t necessary, but I need it. It’s armor. I’m wearing just enough to show that I care what I look like, but not enough that I would come off as someone who is trying too hard.

  When I come downstairs, I see six women standing around the kitchen. Olivia, Savannah, Teal, Aurora, Catalina, and Skye. Over these past few days I’ve gotten to know all of them pretty well and they all seem to have the same story of how they ended up in York with a few unique details.

  They all have a dashing man they started seeing.

  A charity event held by the Bay Foundation.

  The gold invitation box.

  After I speak to enough of them, I realize that I need to incorporate a gold invitation box into my own origin story to fit in and I wonder how many of them are lying about theirs.

  “So, so, so,” Olivia says, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “What the hell happened to you last night?”

  Her tone isn’t accusatory, but inquisitive. She looks genuinely excited to hear all the juicy details. I shrug.

  “There’s no need to hide. We saw what happened.”

  This takes me by surprise.

  Saw?

  I don’t remember seeing anyone else’s dates when they went on them.

  “Yeah, Mirabelle came by and asked if we wanted to watch,” Savannah explains. “Apparently, there’s a television channel which is basically just CCTV.”

  “So…you saw…” I start to say, nodding.

  I don’t know exactly where to go with this.

  How much did they see?

  How much did they hear?

  I mean, I always knew that people up there, the judges and whoever else, were watching. But the women, too?

  “Yes, we saw you kissing!” Olivia says excitedly.

  I nod.

  I should’ve expected this much. I mean, a part of me did, but for some reason I’m still surprised.

  “Why did you go to the beach with him?” Savannah asks.

  The others gather around me, their eyes wide with glee. Despite the fact that we are competing against each other, there is a feeling that everyone is genuinely excited for each other.

  “He asked me to,” I say, nodding my head. “He wanted to have some alone time.”

  “So, what happened when you were there?” Teal asks.

  She is a quiet girl with short dark hair, and alabaster skin. We haven’t had the opportunity to speak much since Olivia and Savannah have dominated my attention, but I had a feeling that we would get along. She mentioned that she was studying to be a librarian, and that was all I needed to know.

  “You didn’t see me?”

  “No, there’s no feed out there,” Olivia says. “I have a feeling that Easton knew this.”

  I shrug. “Well, you didn’t really miss much. We just ran down the beach and found this cave not far from there.”

  I mention the cave on purpose.

  In case, they did watch me, I don’t want to be caught in a lie. The best lies are always the ones which are closest to the truth.

  “Oh, really?” Teal asks quietly. Her eyebrows go up with curiosity. “So, what happened then?”

  “He just asked me more about my life. I asked about his. Getting to know each other type of thing.”

  “Is that all?” Olivia asks.

  I debate whether I should tell them the truth. They already know that we had kissed, so what’s one more kiss?

  “Well, actually…that’s where he kissed me!”

  The girls make a loud cooing sound.

  Their eyes light up and they demand to know the details. Just saying that it was a kiss is not enough.

  What kind of kiss?

  What did his mouth feel like?

  How forceful was he?

  Did he press you against the wall?

  Did he press you against his body?

  These details are important and I provide each and every single one. But I do downplay it.

  Somehow, telling them everything feels too raw. And wrong.

  “You know, he didn’t kiss anyone else but you,” Savannah points out afterward. I shrug.

  “Yeah, why is that?” Aurora asks.

  I don’t know much about her, either, except that she has this attitude.

  It’s like she’s ready to fight the world at any turn. Her dark mocha hair is pulled back in a loose bun and her hazel eyes shoot rays of anger in my direction.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I guess we made a connection. I mean, isn’t that the point of this?”

  “Do you think you’ll sleep with him?” Aurora asks.

  “No, of course not,” I say a bit too quickly.

  “Looks like he wants to sleep with you.”

  I don’t know what to say to that.

  So, I just meet her eyes and stare back at her.

  Hard.

  People like Aurora see weakness in those who give them even an inch of latitude. And if she thinks I�
�m weak, then she will try to bully me even more.

  This isn’t my definition of weakness. It is in fact the bully who is weak and scared and ruled by her ego. But if I don’t want her to bother me, I need to stand up to her.

  “I don’t have any control over that,” I say confidently and wait until she breaks eye contact first.

  After a few moments, she finally caves.

  Is this what it feels like? To be a chameleon? I try to be the person that someone wants me to be.

  Not for any other reason except that I need to survive.

  I can’t fight Aurora and I don’t want to, but I do need her to respect me.

  I do need her to not go behind my back and try to convince the girls to go against me.

  I hate this manipulative, conniving person that I’m becoming.

  No, correction.

  I hate this manipulative person that I am.

  But what other choice do I have?

  Chapter 23 - Everly

  When I’m startled…

  Back in my room, I sit at my desk and stare at nothing in particular. Mirabelle was kind enough to bring me some books to read to pass the time. I have a television as well, but it seems to cloud my thinking, more than giving me space to think.

  I haven’t read these books before, but I know I should. They’re classics. You know, the type of books that you always think you’re going to get to sometime, but you never do. I read the first two chapters of Jane Eyre and let it sit open on my lap as I pick up the pen and start to write.

  Just as before, my thoughts seem to crystalize when I press the pen to paper. I don’t even know where they are going to take me, but I write and write until my hands cramp up.

  Easton’s name comes up within a few sentences and I know that I’m going to have to dispose of everything that I’ve written as soon as I finish, but I don’t care.

  I don’t need to keep these words for later.

  Chefs and cake bakers don’t.

  They make these perfect dishes and elegant designs and what do they do with them afterward?

  Consume them.

  So, that’s what I’ll do.

  My thoughts return to Easton.

  Easton Bay.

  Easton fucking Bay.

  Why are you here?

  Why are you in my life?

  How dare you infuse this place with your humanity?

  He told me something that he should’ve kept to himself. I didn’t need to know that his father had his fiancée killed. That’s the last thing I wanted to know!

  As I write these words, my hand cramps up something awful and I take a momentary break after the exclamation point.

  I shake my head, having an invisible conversation with Easton.

  Why did you tell, you idiot?

  Why did I have to know?

  Now, if I’m ever interrogated about it, they’ll have something to use against me.

  By interrogation, I mean, the kind that they use with force.

  Torture.

  Shivers run down my spine at the thought of that.

  I know that I won’t be able to stand up to them. I’m not good at handling pain. Some people are. Some people can put up with anything.

  But me? No.

  Oh, how I wish you had never told me a thing, Easton Bay.

  I say his name out loud right after I finish writing it. It sounds good rolling off my tongue.

  “Easton Bay,” I repeat over and over.

  Somehow, the more I get to know him, the more mysterious he seems.

  Of course, I know exactly why he told me about who ordered the killing of Alicia. He felt like he needed to prove himself; to share something with me that I could use against him.

  As I put these words onto paper, my hand starts to shake.

  Fear creeps into me.

  What if someone were to walk in, right now? What if someone were to confiscate these sheets of paper from me?

  At first, I try to keep the fear at bay. Nothing is going to happen. Just write, I tell myself. And I do. My thoughts drift from Easton to the girls. I’m torn between my desire to get to know them better and my feeling of general hopelessness as to what would be the point?

  I got to know Paige.

  I liked her.

  She became my friend.

  And now what?

  They sent her away to God-knows where.

  Now, I have to spend my nights tossing and turning and thinking about what is happening to her. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope against hope. Perhaps, they did just send her home. It’s not like she saw anything here like I did.

  But that seems highly unlikely.

  So, what about the other girls? Is it worth getting to know them better while we’re here? Or would that make saying goodbye that much harder?

  I put the pen down and look out the window. Then I begin to write again.

  Just because pain will come with goodbye, that doesn’t mean that this moment now should be forsaken.

  I stare at the words in my haphazard handwriting and read them over and over. They seem to spring out of nowhere.

  That’s right.

  Of course, it’s right.

  Living in fear is no way to live.

  Life is short.

  It may be shorter in York, and it may be crueler and harder.

  So why then, forsake something that could give it some hope? Some love?

  Meeting and talking and laughing with Paige added so much to my life here.

  Yes, I miss her. Yes, I worry about her and I want to find her and free her. But just because a goodbye will be difficult later, it doesn’t mean that the good shouldn’t be experienced now.

  In a world that is so limited on the good, why would I close myself off from whatever good I could find?

  A loud, thunderous knock startles me, making me nearly jump out of my seat. A second later, the door swings open.

  “Please come down for the elimination ceremony,” Mirabelle says.

  My heart jumps into my throat.

  Now? I look down at the desk.

  She had come in here so suddenly that I didn’t have time to do the one thing that I needed to do; get rid of my writing.

  I spin around in my chair and try to make it seem like the papers on my desk aren’t important at all.

  “Okay, I’ll be down in a second,” I say.

  When she looks around the room, I push the loose pieces of paper under my Jane Eyre with my elbow.

  My heart is thumping so loudly through my head that I can barely hear a thing, but my hands remain steady. Calm.

  “You know the rules, Everly,” Mirabelle says, exasperated. “You have to come down now. I’m not going to ask you again.”

  I get up from my chair and follow her out. I hold my breath, hoping that she won’t look at the table behind me.

  I want to usher her out, but I don’t want to be too eager.

  When we leave the room, I let out a small sigh of relief. I may have gotten away with it now, but the papers are still there.

  I need to get through this elimination fast so that I can get back and destroy the evidence.

  Chapter 24 - Everly

  When I make a connection…

  As I stand in line between Teal and Savannah, my thoughts keep circling back to my writing upstairs.

  How could I be so stupid?

  How could I write those things about Easton?

  He trusted me in absolute confidence and I just wrote it down for everyone to see.

  What an idiot!

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one who didn’t get the memo about the dress code,” Teal jokes.

  It takes me a moment to realize what she’s talking about.

  I look down and realize that I’m dressed in my pajamas. Not even yoga pants, which have basically become appropriate attire for everything from a conference to a lunch date.

  But actual pajama pants!

  Soft. Light. Loose. White with little pink flowers.

>   The top is a large, completely mismatching t-shirt. My hair is tied up in a bun, unwashed and covered with a thick layer of dry shampoo, which I doubt was fooling anyone.

  I touch my forehead. Oily.

  Whatever makeup I was wearing earlier that day, has all pretty much rubbed off.

  “Perfect,” I mumble to myself. “Just perfect.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Savannah says. “You look fine.”

  I glance over at her.

  Just like the rest of the girls except for Teal, she is dressed in a tight, black cocktail dress. Her hair is expertly blown out and her makeup looks as if it was airbrushed.

  “Yeah, right,” I say with a shrug.

  “How is it that they all found out about this before we did?” I ask Teal.

  She shakes her head.

  I try to remember what we were all doing this morning after breakfast.

  Oh, yes, of course.

  We were hanging out at the pool. Tanning. Swimming. Gossiping. Drinking. But after a couple of drinks, I got a headache so I escaped to my room for a little rest and relaxation.

  “I left the pool about the same time you did,” Teal says.

  Dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tight-fitting white tank top, she doesn’t look anywhere near the mess that I do.

  “You look nice,” I say.

  She waves her hand and laughs, not believing me.

  “They have a really nice library here,” Teal says. “Do you like to read?”

  My eyes open wide.

  “Yes, I do!” I nod my head.

  She gives me a wide, toothy smile. The last thing I would expect to talk about while waiting for the elimination round to begin is books, but it seems just as good a time as any. The consequences of what’s to come are life-changing, so why not pass the time not thinking about them?

  I bring up how I just started reading Jane Eyre and Teal tells me that it’s one of her favorites.

  “I never read it when I was younger. I mean, I picked it up a few times, but the beginning was always kind of a turn-off.”