by L V Chase
I hide my grimace.
“These are all things Marcus would know about,” Grayson continues. “The other group is all friends with each other. They’ve been close since middle school. They only started hanging out with each other less since Krystal started hanging out with Aurora. But that would explain why there are only two groups, and one of them is much larger than the other. One is formed with people who care about each other, and the other one is formed with…adversaries.”
“Also, not my fault,” Aurora says.
I glance around the room.
“Do we all agree?” I ask. “That’s what the experiment is about?”
“It’s too convenient if it’s not true,” Damian says, walking toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Coward,” Eric mutters.
But we follow Damian to the door as he knocks on it. Mr. Welch opens it.
“We all hate each other,” Damian says. “That’s what you’re testing.”
“Grayson figured it out,” I add. “You wanted to see how fast we could solve the problem despite the fact that we all have contentious relationships.”
“Congratulations,” Mr. Welch says, gesturing for us to step out. “Faster than the amicable group.”
He walks away, heading toward the room where the other group must be. Aurora pushes past Damian and me to get out of the room. I swear I see a lipstick clutched in her hand.
As I follow her out, Damian lurches forward, grabbing my ass. He pinches it forcefully before letting go. I spin around, ready to deck him, but Grayson’s hands are already on him, hurling him against the edge of the door frame.
“Touch her again,” Grayson hisses. “And find out exactly how much I hate you.”
“Tut, tut, Grayson,” Damian taunts. “You’re being watched by a lot of eyes for violent tendencies. Wonder what people will think if they see more evidence of a criminal prone to violent outbursts? I bet they’ll wonder if this is how you treated Diana before you killed her.”
“You won’t have to care about any of that when I’m done with you,” Grayson says. “Don’t touch her again.”
He releases Damian, moving past us both without looking at me. Eric raises his eyebrow at Damian before moving past us too. I follow them, preferring to create distance between Damian and me rather than avoiding Grayson and Eric.
Aurora had stopped in the hallway, nearly twenty feet away from the room. She smiles at Grayson, her finger twirling around a strand of her hair.
“We should get going to the press conference,” she says.
He nods once. She loops her arm around his arm. As they walk down the hall together, he slightly turns his head. I’m in his periphery. Maybe I always have been. Sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes it’s too much.
6
Grayson
A company driver, a tight-lipped man in a black suit that I haven't met before, takes us downtown to where the press conference will be held on the steps of Dad's building. Aurora's bubbling over some nonsense, but I'm tuning her out. Dad never mentioned to me what the press conference was about. Like everyone else, I'm assuming it's about my case being dropped.
There's enough shit flying online about that. I mostly stay away from those gossip sites, or the news sites pretending that they’re not gossip sites. But I still get the general gist.
People are mad. They think I'm getting special treatment, which is bullshit, because I know that I'm innocent. Fuck all the idiots that believe the drivel they read.
I don't think we owe anyone an explanation, but I know how tense things are getting with Dad's company and his reputation, so I agreed to show up to the press conference. Aurora volunteered to be there to for family support, and surprisingly, Dad didn't object. He ended up inviting Trisha to the press conference as well. I suppose he's all about that proper family appearance.
"How do I look?" Aurora asks for at least the tenth time.
I glance over at her. She's in white blouse with light lavender stripes and a pair of black pants. More business-like than usual. She's trying to worm her way into Dad's company any way she can. She has been, ever since Dad rejected her for the internship.
"Fine," I mutter so that she'll leave me alone.
"Should I leave another button undone?" she asks as she plays with the top of her blouse. "What do you think? Or two more?"
I ignore her. The car slows down as it nears the curb. There's a crowd already gathered at the base of the company building. Dad's set up a little podium and speakers right in front of entrance. No one bothers us as we get out, until someone spots me.
"It's Grayson Voss!"
The crowd of gawkers and reporters turns its head as one to stare at me. A few trickle off towards me, shoving microphones and cameras into my face, but I ignore them and make my way to Dad. Trisha's already there in a light blue business dress. She gives us a nervous smile. A gray uniformed security staff member ushers me and Aurora to Dad's side. He gives me a curt nod but smiles when he sees Aurora. He checks his watch, then leans over to whisper to me.
"Just a little more," he says.
The crowd is growing restless. They call out questions now and then, but Dad's stony face makes it clear that he's not going to respond. When a couple journalists try to force their way forward too closely, security staff step in and push them back to their original places. Although the crowd is a good ten feet away from us, I can still hear some of them talking to each other.
"He looks like a killer, doesn't he?"
"The bastard bought his way free. Money's all that matters, huh?"
"God, I hate rich people."
"I heard he's a goddamn pervert, too."
I hear Trisha inhale sharply at some of the comments. Aurora looks nervously to us. She tries to grab my hand, but I pull away from her.
"Fucking hell, Aurora," I hiss. "Just don't be annoying."
Finally, Dad steps up to the waiting microphone and taps it. The crowd grows quiet.
Dad smiles. "Thank you for coming here on short notice. I appreciate your support. I know how busy all of you are. Too busy to deal with the trifles concerning my family."
Someone calls out. "Hey Voss! So, how much did buying off the DA's office cost?"
Dad frowns momentarily, then continues talking louder like nothing happened. "Like I said. I appreciate your concern for my family's well-being in these difficult times."
Dad pauses, taking a sip from a bottle of water at the side of the podium. "I won't waste your time. Let's get to the reason for this press conference. I, Lawrence Voss, am divorcing my soon-to-be ex-wife, Trisha Voss."
The crowd is dead silent for a good five seconds.
"Oh my god!" Trisha finally cries out, turning to Dad.
Dad doesn't even look at her. He stands quietly with a bright smile, peering out over at the crowd, which begins erupting in questions.
"What? What's going on?" Aurora grabs my arm. "Grayson? Do you know what's going on?"
I hadn't expected this. I mean, I knew Dad would do this eventually, but I hadn't expected this today. I slowly pull my arm out from Aurora's grasp.
"I think you should hear what else Dad has to say," I reply. "My dad."
Dad raises his hands to settle the crowd, then starts speaking again.
"I recently discovered that my presumed daughter," Dad pauses to gesture towards Aurora, "is, in fact, not of my blood. I've been betrayed by the ones closest to my heart."
The crowd grows loud again with cries and shouts.
Dad lifts his hands again. "I'm almost done. Please." When the noise subsides, Dad continues.
"Yes, it's true. Aurora is not my daughter. My only child and heir is Grayson. As you can imagine, this recent discovery has been the source of intense, personal pain. Given the difficult circumstances surrounding my son, I've decided that my time is best spent with my true family. I'm not wasting any more time."
Dad nods to me. "Let's go, Grayson." He turns away from the podium and he
ads back in towards the building. The security staff form a barricade around him.
Trisha runs after Dad, but Dad turns and barks orders to the security staff. They block her from following.
"Lawrence," Trisha sobs, her eyes red and teary. "Lawrence, you can't do this. Lawrence, please! I'm begging you!"
Trisha falls to her knees, but Dad just locks eyes with me, then turns back towards the main building.
I'm not sure what to make of everything. I'm not exactly surprised. I don't have any love lost for Trisha, who stole Dad from Mom. Or Aurora, for that matter. It wouldn't be a lie to say that I hate Aurora, and not just because of how annoying she's been to me lately. She tried to hurt Cin. Yes, Damian pushed her over the edge with releasing the video, but Aurora's been after Cin for a while.
I should be happy, then, that Trisha and Aurora are both getting what they deserve. But maybe Dad's right. Maybe I am getting soft. Letting them both know like this, in such a public and humiliating fashion--I find myself surprisingly feeling sorry, especially for Aurora. Trisha dug her own grave, but I hate the thought of Aurora suffering because of her mother. Maybe it's the reminder of the shit that Cin has to go through because of hers.
I can't gloat. I'm not like Dad.
Aurora cries out as she rushes towards Dad. A security staff member steps in her way, but the man looks unsure of himself. Dad's back is turned, so he's not giving any further instructions. Aurora uses the confusion to rip past the security staff.
"I hate you!" she screams, her fists raised.
She tries to lunge at Dad, but I've caught up with her by then. I catch her in my arms and hold her tightly as she thrashes.
"Calm down, Aurora," I hiss. I don't know if she cares about anything else, so I try to appeal to her vanity, at least. "They're getting everything on camera. Do you want that?"
Aurora stops flailing in my arms. Then, she goes limp as she hugs me, sobbing. I hold her as camera flashes go off in the distance.
7
Cin
I close my eyes, praying for patience. I grew up hearing my mother recite the Serenity Prayer—God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference—but now I need something stronger. Like alcohol. Or Hades.
“Oh. My. Gosh!” Demi prances in front of the boxes of ornaments before placing a new ornament on one of the pine tree’s branches. “You guys, it’s the mask from The Phantom of the Opera. That musical changed my life.”
She starts belting out a song. It would be grand and all if it wasn’t the fourth one she’d started singing since we began decorating this massive Christmas tree in the center of the dining hall.
The decorating is fine.
Doing it with the DDD girls is barely tolerable.
Doing all of this while we’re wearing elf costumes that include skirts that barely reach past my ass—that requires a few prayers to get through.
However, Damian also being here is why I want a fifth of vodka and a god of death.
“I never imagined the school would find a real tree that would take up all of this space,” Damian says to Demi.
“I heard there’s a famous tree farm from Vermont they had it shipped from,” she says, blinking rapidly like her eyelashes might hypnotize Damian. “But I also heard they grow them in Hudson. The mystery makes it magical.”
I hand candy canes to Dahlia. As I wait for her to pick the best branch to hook them on, I hear a loud scuffing noise followed by loud clanging. We all turn to see a chair on its side and Aurora striding past it with a scowl.
Just lovely.
“Hello, poor kids,” she says, waving at all of us.
Her smile is unhinged. She’s been acting erratic since her father’s announcement. In English, people were talking about how one of her friends, Chelsea, was overheard mentioning that Aurora had puked all over the living room in her villa after getting drunk. Supposedly, she left several voicemails to her father, begging for him to take back everything he had said.
If she hadn’t released a sex tape of me, I might have been able to squeeze out a few droplets of sympathy for her.
“Aurora,” Demi says, her voice warbling with confusion. “How are you doing? I’m so sorry about your father—"
“Why?” Aurora croons. “Does it remind you that you don’t have a father?”
“I have a father,” Demi says, her head tilted. “He’s a highway maintenance crew worker.”
I fidget with a candy cane. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that the DDD girls didn’t grow up in mansions or receive a car every year for their birthday since they turned sixteen. Their parents held them with calloused hands, and their shower water was constantly cold because their landlords were cheap bastards.
Aurora snorts. “Those assholes who just stand around while getting paid my family’s tax money? Please. That’s not a job. That’s an excuse to double fines. It’s ridiculous. If a car drives by, just step out of the way.”
Red blotches rise into Demi’s cheeks, but Aurora is already turning to Dahlia.
“I loved your song at the talent show, Dahlia,” Aurora says.
Dahlia’s smile bursts onto her face.
“If you sold it to some record labels, they might be able to re-work it and give it to somebody who can actually sing,” Aurora adds.
Dahlia’s smile slips away. Aurora turns to Desiree. She’s a sniper, reloading and aiming at her next target.
“Desiree,” she smiles. “You know—"
“Aurora,” I cut her off. “Why don’t you go back to your villa? Call your mother or something. I’m sure she needs you.”
Aurora turns to me, her eyes full of hatred. “Why don’t you call your mother? Or is she too busy being a whore?”
I shrug. “That’s a solid theory, honestly.”
“Desiree,” Aurora turns back toward her. “You know that shaking your ass isn’t dancing. You’re a stripper. You’re a pathetic piece of—"
“Alright,” Damian says, grabbing Aurora’s shoulders, pulling her backward. She swats at him, lurching out of his grasp.
“Fuck you,” she spits at him.
“You’re in emotional turmoil, Aurora,” he says, putting himself between her and Desiree. “Just take a breath.”
“I’m in emotional turmoil because of that bitch,” she says, jabbing her finger at me. I raise my eyebrows. “She’s caused all of my problems. If she hadn’t provoked Diana, Diana wouldn’t have killed herself, Grayson wouldn’t have gotten arrested, and my father wouldn’t be having a mid-life crisis. She poisoned my family. She’s a home-wrecking whore that’s ruining my life.”
“That’s not even what home-wrecking means,” I say.
“Yes, she has that tendency to ruin lives,” Damian says. “But you’re better off being far away from your family.”
“Maybe you all hate your families that much, but I love my family,” she says, stabbing at her chest with her finger. “I wouldn’t abandon them for anything.”
“Far worse is coming for them,” he says. “I wouldn’t be claiming I’d jump on a grenade for them quite yet.”
A gust of wind hits all of us, causing the ornaments to clink against each other as the door opens. We all turn to see Ollie. He’s wearing a Christmas-themed art smock, and his pale blue hair is gelled back. His shoes squeak on the floor, leaving a trail of wet prints behind him.
“Hey, Cinnamon,” he says. He nods at everyone else but quickly turns back to me. “You’re supposed to be working on painting wreaths now. The dean isn’t going to be happy if they’re not done soon. I convinced him to let you do this, so you have a chance to get on his good side.”
“Right. Sorry, Ollie,” I say.
He waits for me until I’ve handed the candy cane to Dahlia and walked up to him. As we walk out, Damian’s words grow roots in my head.
Damian is many terrible things, but I can’t deny he knows how to plan long-term. If he has something u
p his sleeve to ruin the Vosses, it’s going to be something devastating. And as much as I’m certain most of the Vosses deserve their punishment, I don’t want to witness Grayson suffer, especially when I’m the reason Damian despises Grayson so much.
Grayson was willing to intervene in his father’s business to protect me. For that, all of the complex shit I feel when I see him can take a backseat while I warn him.
It’s not for any other reason than to pay back my debts.
8
Grayson
I throw on a button-up shirt and some pants in a hurry, not really paying attention to what I'm putting on. It's already a few minutes late, and I know that Cin's probably outside waiting for me. Dad would throw a fit if he knew that I was meeting with her. She wanted to meet though, and I wasn't going to say no to her.
I finish dressing and head outside. I look around, but there's no sign of her. That's not like Cin to be late. I'm worried for a moment that something happened to her, but then I decide take a quick walk over to the parking lot around the corner. Sure enough, there she is, in a white shirt, tan cardigan, and blue jeans. The cardigan's tied up at the waist to keep it out of the way.
She has a sketchbook open and pressed flat against my car's window. She's drawing something in pencil, although I can't make out what it is from here. I jog over to her.
"Cin," I say.
Cin looks over her shoulder. "Grayson."
She might have smiled, but I'm not sure because she turns back to her sketchbook, finishing up a bit of shading. She closes the sketchbook and puts it away into her bag.
"I thought you'd be waiting for me by the villa," I say.
Cin shakes her head. "Bad idea. I didn't want to risk running into Damian."
"So, you wanted to tell me something?" I ask.
"Yeah." She doesn't continue.
She looks worried, like she doesn't want other people eavesdropping. I point to my car. "We can go for a drive. It'll be private and safe. Unless you still think I killed Diana."
