by Mj Fields
“She’s not that stupid,” I snap.
She giggles, and I look over.
“She’s not. It’s all about the show for her. I’m telling you right now, Truth, I’m going to be fine, and so is she, but you need to try not to get too attached. Focus on you and Easton. And I’m coming from a loving place when I tell you I need you to stay the hell out of what she and I have going on. Because, when it ends, and it will end”—It always does— “I won’t want to hear her name again.”
“Because you know you’re going to fall harder for her than you already have,” she whispers.
“T, stay out of it doesn’t mean to dig deeper.”
“You’re protective—”
“She doesn’t need my protection.”
Laughing, she sits up and steps off my bed and onto the floor. “Which is why the otherwise empty guard shack at the end of her driveway is now occupied at night?”
“We’re playing defense, T.”
“How did she explain the extra expense to her parents?”
“She doesn’t need to.”
“You’re paying for—”
“Hell no.” I laugh. “The profit from the parties do.”
She nods as she walks toward the door, but then she turns back and says, “It’s okay to let yourself fall in love, Justice, even if it’s not the forever kind.”
“I’m not—”
“Regardless, you’re less detached, which is a good look on you.”
“Let’s be honest, T, everything looks good on me.”
Once Truth leaves my room, I grab my phone and check out her location. Home, of course, just like she has been all week. Then I hit the security system that’s now connected to an app, because no, I don’t one hundred percent trust Tiggs and Tyler, even though she and Tobias do.
Once I spent ten minutes in the guard shack, I had the name and model of the system. I googled the fuck out of the whole thing, so I understood how it worked. She pays a hundred bucks a month for it to call in to an alarm company if the alarm is tripped, but she wasn’t using the app. It was no problem setting it up so that I could watch them watching her. Someday, maybe, I’ll give her that access, too, but for now, I like that she doesn’t know, and yeah, that’s fucked up.
I see the guard shack, her front and back doors, all her entries actually, and even the tunnel to the beach, which straight up is pretty bad ass.
Shit’s been awkward all week on the rides to school, and now that baseball is done, she’s not leaving with Truth or Patrick after school; she’s riding with me.
Why the change? Our chat when I got back from the city and her explanation wrapped around an apology was easily accepted in the moment. Even her offer—a year together, fucking during that year, and a handshake, a hug, and a wish you well when we part ways—seemed doable. The baby shower, seeing her out of her element, seeing her humble, and trying to fit in and not make everyone around her feel like they never would. The way my head got fucked up by the rain and her laugh, the almost kiss outside of school, without the excuse that it was for show. One twenty-four-hour period of seeing her softer, vulnerable, seeing … her again nearly did it.
Only took one night of no sleep, watching cameras, wondering if Tyler or Tiggs had ever taken the ‘edge off’ for her. One night thinking of how something beyond my control, sort of like failing a driver’s test, changed the narrative, and the way in which I was so fucking sure our story would end so many chapters ago. One night of feeling the scales tipping from protective to possessive, and I knew damn well distance needed to be set between us, whenever possible.
I close the app, set my phone on the charger, roll to my side, and open my nightstand drawer, or a sexual toy chest, if you will, with different vibrators and dildos, weekly fucked-iversary gifts for the weeks leading up to my family’s annual trip to Italy.
I’m lucky as hell I got the package before anyone else in the household did.
Rolling up the driveway to pick up Gabrielle, I see her sitting on the front steps of her mansion. She looks like a baby doll that someone set on a front porch and left.
As I get closer, I notice how fucking tired she looks.
Same, Queenie, same, I think.
It takes her a minute to stand up, giving me time to reach over and open the door for her.
“What a gentleman,” she says through a yawn, but then she smiles as she climbs in.
Little does she know it takes a hell of a lot out of me to not get out and open the fucking thing for her, and not because it’s her, but that’s what men in my family do.
“Something happen?” I ask as I watch her buckle.
“No.” She shrugs. “Nothing. Not one word all week, not one post on the app—”
“The ability to post is shut down until we figure out who’s gonna take that shit over. I want nothing to do with it.”
“The obvious person would be me and—”
“Really?” I huff.
“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say Truth and Brisa, as well.”
“Not Tris?”
“No,” she says adamantly.
“Thought she was good.”
“She’s quiet, and Brisa and I are pretty sure she’s plotting her revenge.”
I nod. “Sounds like her.”
“Why’s that?” she asks as I put the truck in gear and start heading around the circular drive.
“She’s going to be hell-bent on making him pay for hurting her.”
“Yeah? Pretty normal thing to do, though.”
“This is Tris—it’ll be far from normal.”
“So, what do you think she’ll do?”
“Anything he won’t expect.” I laugh.
“Like act as if it’s no big deal, and when they’re alone, tell him how much she’s going to fuck with his life? Ruin him? Or maybe she’ll pretend everything’s cool, and they’ll end up back together, because it hurts too much to see him with not just one but two girls, and she’ll suffer through that until she goes to college, but it will be just fine with her, because she won’t have to see him with anyone else.”
What the fuck? Is that what she thinks of me? Fuck that.
“Not sure where you’re heading with this, but Tris aside, I know Francesca and Antoinette are close, but something doesn’t sit well with me through that whole idea.”
“Why’s that? Some people are more open about their sexuality than others.”
“They fought over crayons as kids. No way in hell they’re sharing a boy.”
“It’s been a few months since you’ve been around them every day. People change because of circumstance. Maybe they’ve changed. Maybe—”
“Tris say something? Something happen with them that I don’t know? Someone at Saint Mary’s fucking with them?”
Smiling, she reaches over and pats my hand. “Easy, JT.”
Pisses me off when she calls me that.
“I’m sure, if something like that happened, they’d have sent up a bat signal, and your whole Justice Crew would have been alerted.”
“Justice Crew?”
She nods as she sits back and starts laughing.
“It’s Steel Crew, Queenie.”
“Sure it is.” She laughs.
Walking toward school, I see her light up when she sees the crew waiting at the door. Again, it bugs me a bit when she takes off toward them, all lit up like the Fourth of July. And again, I remind myself to chill the fuck out, that it’s what I want, that it’s honoring my word to Tobias, and it’s looking like my warning to her, that she may actually start to like herself, is happening. It’s the part that followed that ‘threat’ that’s wavering, the part where I said I never will.
“She fucking what?” I snap at Truth and Patrick, almost falling off the fucking treadmill.
“They were in timeout for a week and have played the game. Haven’t tried, said, or done shit in retaliation,” Patrick says in an attempt to calm me the fuck down.
Tobias drops th
e weights he’s lifting, walks over, and starts to speak.
Pointing at him, I snarl, “Not fucking cool.”
“Cool or not, you have to learn to deal with them for another year, too. A two grand profit was lost on the tables last weekend. Tables are a big draw. They can easily host a card game.”
“Then fucking let ’em.”
“Not about letting them,” he sighs. “It’s about all the Baysiders and the Blenders who come to take their fucking money.”
“They can take mine.”
“You gonna start throwing Benjamins to keep them away from Gabrielle? Hell, you’re already giving up money to pay for security seven days a week.”
“Not my money to begin with,” I snap.
“Will be when those numbers shift. You got ten people working, who feed at least twice that many, all depending on that money.”
“Bet she’s not thinking that,” I huff.
Tobias crosses his arms. “This can’t be personal.”
“It’s fucking not!” I yell.
“Good. Because I dealt with it for four years; you get one. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t think you could do it.”
I walk around him and grab my shit, but before I get to the door, Tobias steps in my way.
“What?” I hiss.
“Act like it bothers you, they feed on it. Trust me. Just chill.”
I had three classes, including gym, before I saw her again. Three fucking periods in which I tried to calm down. Not that it fucking mattered. Chill is not a temperature I easily adjust to when it comes to her.
As soon as I step into Statistics, my eyes lock with hers. Her posture straightens immediately, and I smile.
That’s right, Queenie; you’ve pissed off the king.
I keep my eyes on hers the whole time as I walk to the back of the room and take my seat behind her. I drop my bag, causing her to jump, before sitting, hooking my foot around the leg of her chair, and dragging her back. Then I wrap my hand around her soft as fuck hair and pull it back so she’s forced to look up at me again. I lean forward so my face hovers above hers, just like I did last time, and whisper, “You remember what I said last time we were in this position?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she says, rolling her fucking eyes at me.
“Not asking me was fucking wrong, Gabs.”
She narrows her eyes at the use of Gabs. She doesn’t like that anymore than I like her calling me JT.
“You knew it was just last week.”
The fuck I did, I think, but I don’t want her to know that shit. “You were supposed to avoid them unless me or my—”
“I sent a text.”
“Don’t give a fuck if you send up messenger pigeons, you ask me first.”
“Ask?”
“Yeah, fucking ask. I’m—”
“The king, I know. Feel free to save your breath. I know the drill. You’re going to fuck my face from this position just so you can watch the head of your dick stretch out my scrawny little neck.”
“Fuck that. What I have planned isn’t something you can use that gift I gave you last week while lying in bed, trying to get yourself off while reminiscing about how your throat got fucked.” I release her hair and sit back.
Truth slides into her seat at the desk next to mine, and I lean over. “You mind giving Queenie a ride home after school?”
“Thought you’d be staying until the party.”
“Yeah, I forgot something at home.”
She looks at me like she’s about to ask me a question, and I narrow my eyes.
She nods. “Not a problem at all. It’s basically on my way. I’ll drop her off before I go to the dance studio.”
When class is finished, I stay in my seat as the room empties and watch as Harrison stands and looks back at me. Turning away, I see a smirk playing on his lips.
When he’s out the door, I stand and start to walk out.
Gabrielle stands after I walk past her. “JT.”
I turn back, and she steps into my space.
“You wanna know why I didn’t say anything?”
“Don’t really give a fuck, Gabs. What’s done is done.”
I turn, and she grabs my hand. I look back.
“I didn’t mention it because I knew you’d treat me like this, and I knew he’d push buttons. You have no poker face at all, and—”
“I’ve got shit handled with the alcohol. You do what you do best. You go get dressed to present and put on your show.”
“That’s not fair, Justice,” she whispers from behind me as she follows me out.
“Not much in life is.”
Located
Gabrielle
At nearly five, I check Justice’s location, something I do every damn night, and see he’s just down the road.
All week long, I’ve watched him go from my house to what I now know, based on my social media stalking skills, is his families homes and the company they own—Steel Incorporated. He’s spent most of his time at Kiki’s, which is right next door to her parents, Jase and Carly.
I’m sure that has a lot to do with the fact that the two steps forward I thought we had taken over the weekend got kicked back three or four. And after today—him reacting in a way I prayed he wouldn’t, or would at least be open to my explanation—any yards advanced, have been drop-kicked back to the starting line.
As I hear his vehicle pull up, I look in the mirror in the entry. I picked my dress—Dolce & Gabbana—purposely. A simple black dress. It’s a bit longer—just above the knee—the soft, sculptured bodice is much less tight than most dresses I wear, and the neckline is round, showing no cleavage at all. My hair is pinned up on the sides, I’m wearing simple gold jewelry, and my shoes—also Dolce & Gabbana—are black and gold brooch, open-toed stilettos.
When he walks in the door, he stops for a minute and looks me over. Then he lifts his chin and walks past me with a box toward the lounge.
When I step forward to shut the door, I feel a hand stopping me. “Hold up, Gabs.”
I look around the door and see Patrick. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. I don’t usually show up this early, but someone decided to have a few drinks to help find his chill before coming.”
“He find it?” I ask, shutting the door.
“Between you and me, Gabs, he lost that shit two weeks ago and has yet to—”
Justice’s voice booms through the house, “Queenie, need you in here now!”
“You mind if I set my phone up to your speaker system, Gabs?” Patrick calls after me.
“I’d love some music,” I call back to him.
Justice is leaning against the doorjamb in the hallway leading to the butler pantry. His eyes are dark and narrowed, not quite the scowl he’s worn since November up until this past week, until today, but I’m sure it will get there by the end of the night. He turns and walks down the hall, and I follow.
As pissed as I am at him for being pissed at me, my eyes land on the best ass at Seashore, and then I’m not so pissed at him for being pissed at me.
I walk in the butler pantry, and he shuts and locks the door then turns around.
“Week two fucked-iversary gift is on the counter.”
I smile and shake my head. “I really thought it was a cruel joke, and now I feel awful I haven’t gotten—”
“Don’t think that yet. Open it. We have shit to do.”
“Way to ruin a—”
“Tick tock, Queenie.”
I grab the little brown paper bag that looks like an old-school lunch bag and laugh when I pull out a box. “Vibrating panties, huh?”
“Take yours off and put those on.”
“What?” I ask as I turn around, laughing.
“Put them on.”
“You’re the king,” I say, lifting my dress and shimmying out of my lacy red thong. Then I grab the box and pull out a pair of gray panties that tie at the sides. “Might need help tying these.”
M
y dress falls, getting in my way several times before he becomes annoyed and steps forward.
“Hold it up.”
He works fast, tying one side then the other.
“Thanks. They’re—”
“You’re not done yet.” He grabs the box and dumps the remaining contents in his hand. “Hold your dress up in the front.” As soon as I do, he shoves something in his pocket.
“Am I supposed to be modest?”
“You can fake shit for your little fans but don’t play modest with me.”
I pull my dress up and watch as he swallows hard. “Ouch,” I whisper. “At very least, you should notice my dress is actually—”
He steps forward and pushes his hand down the front of my new panties without warning, and I gasp.
When I feel something cool and hard against my skin, and not fingers that I crave and still remember the expert way he used them, I look up at him.
“This stays there all night.”
“I’m wearing a dress; what if it falls out, hits the floor? People—”
“Won’t happen if you keep your legs closed,” he says as he turns around and steps toward the door.
“Hey, Justice?”
He looks back as he shoves his hand in his pocket. “What?”
“I … Jesus Christ …” I moan as the small plastic item he placed snugly against my flesh vibrates.
“No, Queenie, it’s Justice,” he says, reaching out to open the door. “You feel that tonight, you come find me.”
“You can’t be serious.” I laugh, because really?
He shrugs. “I am.”
“Jus—”
My panties vibrate, and I have to close my mouth to stifle the moan.
He turns back and smirks. “You’re welcome.”
Justice stood at the door, greeting everyone with me, up until Harrison, Miles, Kai, and Nina came in. After he let them know he was right by my side, and they’d found their way to the back where the card tables are set up, I barely see him. He’s spent most of the night answering texts from Quinn, whose look is extra bitchy tonight, and restocking the bar, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel him. And every time I do, he’s talking to a different girl.
