by L V Chase
I lean against my bed. “No, Mom.”
“You have to get on it,” she says. “Screw his buddies if he won’t pay any attention to you. Men love what they can’t have.”
“Yeah, that’s probably true.”
The extended pause tells me she’s confused by my passivity. Our relationship is defined by conflict. Even when we’re affectionate toward each other, it’s just the pitstop before an implosion.
“It is true,” she insists. “You never gave it up to Damian White, right? The moment you did, he would have moved on and still become a dead-end nobody. You were so naive—"
“Christ, Mom,” I snap. “Does the hypocrisy ever bother you, or do you thoroughly enjoy it?
“What?”
“You’re a dead-end nobody. How much did all that shit you’re talking about ever help you? It didn’t. You still ended up no better than the all people you love to make fun of.”
The pause this time isn’t caused by confusion. I can almost hear the crackle of growing, burning anger.
“You ungrateful bitch,” she snarls. “You—I gave up everything for you, and this is how you treat me? You think you’re hot shit? You think people want to buy your art? You’re delusional. You’re going to crash and burn, and when you come back crying to me—"
“I won’t,” I say, hanging up.
I throw the phone down on my bed. Usually, I feel guilty after our arguments, but I don’t have any sympathy anymore. Thinking people are more than they are is exactly what got me here in the first place.
I’m moving on. I’m not a little girl anymore, terrified of a frenzied raccoon. But as long as I’m being an unsympathetic, delusional bitch, I might as well burn everything down.
33
Grayson
I'm in my father's home office, lounging in the black leather chair that's off to the side. Dad's sitting at his desk, sipping from a glass of wine. He sets the glass back on his desk before rubbing his temples with one hand stretched across his forehead. His dark hair has streaks of gray, which means he's late getting his hair dyed this time. His face is creased more than usual, too. I don't know why he called him in, but it's clear that he's not in a particularly good mood.
"You don't know anything about this company, Writing on the Wall?" Dad asks.
I shake my head. "No."
"Of course not." Dad picks up his glass and stirs his wine once before gulping it all down. "Anything unusual going on with your friends? Any signs of trouble?"
I think back to the incident with Aurora. But Aurora's not a friend. I don't think that's what Dad's worried about.
"No, no trouble."
"That's strange, because the last girl you sent was a disappointment." Dad frowns. "She ended up crying. The client likes it rough, some rope, knives, nothing too serious, but he hates girls that cry. Can't you find any girls with more spine?"
No, I can't. There's only one girl with a shred of backbone in her, and I'm sure as hell not handing her over to Dad's clients.
"I thought you needed them broken down," I say.
Dad puts his glass down and stabs at me with a finger. "Don't talk back. You need to do a better job. Pliant, yes. Whining, sobbing bitches, no."
Dad sighs. "Listen, I can't afford any mistakes. Someone's poking around the company. You sure you haven't heard anything about this Writing on the Wall? From that McCulloch girl at school, anything?"
"Nothing."
"They've crept up out of nowhere. First, they outbid us on a media app. Next, they're stealing my staff, buying off my usual sources. Now, they're outright attacking us, making us look bad." Dad pounds the table with a fist, and the glass jumps.
"They're new money, damn it," Dad says. " Fucking fairies, too. They're everywhere, but I can’t find out anything."
Suddenly, he glares at me, a strange coldness filling his dark eyes. "They haven't bought you off, have they?"
"What? Hell, no."
He stares at me for a second, then frowns as if disappointed. "So, you're a failure, not a traitor."
I roll my eyes. "I'll get you the girls you need."
"You better. I raised you to be a man, not a fucking pussy." He leans back in his chair again. "I think I'll be stopping by your school, to see your projects up close."
He means the girls. I don't like it, especially because I don't want him anywhere near Cin.
"I've got it under control," I reply. So much for sending over more call girls as a backup plan.
"We'll see," he says. "We'll see."
34
Cin
I’m walking across campus and heading towards the dining hall, but everywhere I go, they’re after me. They’re out for blood. As I pass one girl, she loudly tells her friends that I got into the school by blowing three members of the admissions committee. Another group of girls bundles closer to each other to avoid walking near me, and as soon as I pass by, they burst into laughter, talking about my bad case of gonorrhea. A boy I don’t recognize throws a banana at me, hitting my boob, and claiming twenty points.
It’s all bullshit. It won’t matter in the long run. In a couple of years, I’ll be on the street, pretending I’m a skilled artist, and they’ll be in their skyscrapers. Nothing is going to change that.
I find Grayson at his usual table. I navigate my way straight to him, slapping my hand down on the table. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Just tell me why,” I say. “Because you it’s so fun to torture me? Or was it a bet? Did you think it’d be hilarious to tell your buddies about how we’d fucked? Tell me exactly how pathetic you are.”
“Cinnamon,” he says, irritatingly calm. He points to the person next to him. “I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to my father, Lawrence Voss.”
I shift my gaze over. His father gazes back at me. His expression is hard, but he offers me his hand.
“It’s nice to formally meet, Cinnamon,” he says. “I apologize for when we first ran into each other. I was upset with my daughter, and I let it affect my composure. It’s inexcusable, but surely you understand that family matters have a way of, pushing our buttons, so to speak, yes?”
His head slightly turns to his other side, where Aurora is sitting. She rarely sits with Grayson at the dining hall, preferring to keep her own group separate.
“Cinnamon, go get your breakfast,” Grayson says. “I told you I don’t want to see you again. I expect you to respect that.”
The note of anger in his voice only makes me angrier. I open my mouth ready to retort, but Aurora jumps to her feet before I can say anything.
“Cinnamon, you know, if you’re so desperate to find somebody to sleep with, there’s a school for the blind a few streets over. They might want—"
“Aurora,” Grayson snarls. “Sit down and shut the fuck up. Cin, you need to leave.”
Lawrence pulls his arm off the table, frowning. Aurora slowly sits back down, her head tucked low. I shift my gaze back to Grayson. He’s not looking at me anymore. He’s focused on his family. I’m being dismissed.
I take a few steps back before turning around and heading out of the dining hall. I tell myself it’s because I know I’m not getting an answer from him, but that’s not true. The truth is that when he defended me, I almost fell back into his orbit. I almost cared about him again.
35
Grayson
"Follow me," Dad growls. "Now."
Dad gets up and heads for the dining hall's exit without waiting to see if I'm following. The room is deathly quiet.
I nod to the other boys at the other table. "I've got business."
Eric nods. "Sure."
Dad's ten feet ahead of me in the hallways. I jog to catch up. Aurora stays behind. He turns right at the first staircase, then spins around at the first bend. I stop, nearly bumping into him.
He slaps me hard across the face. The sharp sting is nothing, but the insult is clear. He's treating me like a woman. I struggle to contain my anger, my hands forming hard fists. In the end, I bac
k down. He's too dangerous, now that he has his suspicions about Cin.
"Weak," Dad mutters as he watches me with a frown. "I’ve seen enough. That girl's making you weak. She's in your head, isn't she?"
Yes, she is, but I can't tell him that. "No. She's nobody. Just another pussy."
"You're lying."
I scowl. "She's nothing. Ask anyone. I treat her like trash, like she deserves." The words stick in my throat, even if I'm doing this for Cin.
"Nothing? Fine." Dad smiles, and my skin prickles in warning. "You get that girl ready for Robert. You get her ready to be his girl, got it? Not like a one-time thing, either. She's going to be his. For good."
I stare at him for a second, my confused expression betraying me. I force myself to pretend that I don't care. I shrug. "Whatever. If that's what you want."
"Good. I want her ready by Thanksgiving. No later."
"You sure she's his type? She's a bit frigid. One of the others—"
"Is there a problem?" Dad asks.
I don't say anything.
"Grayson," Dad says, his voice softer now. "She's using you. She doesn't see you. She only sees your name, your money. I'm trying to keep you from making the same mistake that I did." He slaps me hard on the shoulder this time. "Son, you understand? You're stronger than me, I know you are."
I nod slowly. "I said it's nothing. I'll take care of it."
"You should come to one of the company meetings. The special ones. We have one tomorrow night. You're old enough. It's time you learned how real men live."
I'm barely listening. Why couldn't Cin mind her own damn business and stay the fuck away from us? I warned her, over and over. I tried to keep her away. I tried to get her to listen. Fuck.
"Grayson?" Dad asks. "Tomorrow at eight. I can send a driver."
"No, I'll drive myself."
Dad's secretary gives me directions to the meeting he wants me to attend. I had expected it to be at the company, but it's in a posh club on the other side of town. The building's a silver cube with no windows or any sign of what's going on inside that I can see from the street. A single small sign, also in silver, has the name of the place. Aria.
I toss my keys to the valet and walk up to the gorilla-shaped bouncer. He flexes his shoulders and gives me trouble for a few seconds when I try to walk past, asking for my ID. I show my ID, pointing to my name, not my birthdate.
He apologizes and lets me through.
Inside the club, it's dim other than the colored dance lights flashing in time to the booming electronic bass. Bodies, half-naked, twirl in a kaleidoscope of colors, bumping into me from all directions. I ignore the odd hand on my waist, the flirty smiles, the coy glances.
When I reach the back of the club, there's another bouncer in a tight black tee shirt waiting from me. He nods and motions to the door he's guarding. Past the door is an elevator. I take it to the top floor.
The elevator doors open, and I'm inside a large lounge with a black and white marble floor, tall windows for walls with black drapes currently drawn over them, an ornate gold chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, and a damn stone water fountain beneath the chandelier.
It's more of a lounge than a business room. I count six men in suits seated on lush leather sofas spread throughout the place, with at least that many skinny blonde girls holding wine bottles or trays of appetizers. All the girls are wearing identical skin-tight white dresses that barely cover their asses. None of them are wearing bras, I realize.
"Grayson," Dad calls out to me from one of the sofas. He pats the spot next to him, then turns to address the others. "I'm showing my son the ropes."
Dad laughs, and the other men laugh, nodding towards me. I nod back and make my way to sit beside Dad. He leans over to whisper.
"Just sit back and enjoy."
Dad gets up and makes the rounds, chatting up each of the guests. One of the girls comes over and offers me a drink, but I decline. I'm only here to keep Dad off my case.
As the night progresses, a few of the other men come over to exchange mild pleasantries, but it's clear that they have other things on their minds. Soon, the girls put down their bottles and take a seat, one next to each man. Except for Dad. He's working the guests, talking to them even as the girls start winding themselves around the men.
It starts with shoulder rubs and back massages. The men don't keep their hands quiet. I see one reaching up a skirt, another grabbing an ass. Finally, one of the men, a bald little creep, pulls the dress off the girl next to him. She's topless but wearing a lacey white panty.
And just like that, the other men and girls follow suit. Soon, there are half-naked girls all over the room. They’re all young, like they're still in college. One of them moans. She's getting fingered through her panties.
There's a grunt. I look away, trying to find somewhere to rest my eyes that doesn’t involve fucking, but I can still see the graying fat slob getting a blowjob across from me. When I accidentally meet his eyes, he just grins and winks. I force a smile and look away.
I have to admit that the unfolding orgy in front of me has me slightly aroused. But all I can think of is her, Cin. I catch myself watching one of the girls bent over, her ass towards me, as her head bobs up and down, her hair swaying from side to side. I imagine that it's Cin. She hasn't given me a blowjob, and I desperately wish that she was here, making me feel good.
I take a deep breath, remembering the sweet smell of her hair, the musky lure of her wetness. My hand grips the leather sofa at my side. I want to touch Cin, that soft, warmth that feels so alive in my hands. I close my eyes, and all I see is Cin's face as she hovers above me.
A hand touches me on the arm. I open my eyes.
One of the girls is sitting next to me, smiling. Her eyes are empty and lined with red. She sniffs once. Is she coked up? Beneath the makeup, I can tell that her skin is patchy, sickly.
"Had a long day?" she purrs. Her hand moves to my chest and down my abs.
I pick her hand up set it aside. "I'd rather not," I say.
"Grayson."
I try not to groan. I hear Dad approach from behind. He grips my shoulders with two firm hands.
"Go ahead, Grayson," Dad says. "No need to be shy."
The girl reaches for me again, but I glare at her. "I'm fine."
This is fucking weird, especially with Dad right there. Like what the fuck? I mean, I kind of get it. To Dad, these girls might as well be animals. Using them in front of him is as meaningless as petting a dog in front of him. But it’s still fucking weird.
"Come on, son. There's a time to work, and there's a time to relax." He squeezes my shoulder hard enough to make me wince in pain.
I stand up, forcing Dad's hands off me. I give him a cold smile. “Well, I see I still have a lot of work to do."
I leave.
36
Cin
“While grades and difficult classes are important to colleges, community service is also crucial. We recommend that you invest at least thirty hours into volunteering.”
Mr. Rover walks across the auditorium stage, gesturing to his massive pie chart poster. It’s meant to show the seniors what we need to know about applying to colleges, but it looks like a spinning carnival wheel, where every choice is disappointing.
I should be fully invested in the presentation. I chose to come here so that I’d have a chance at a great college. But my attention is continually drawn to two rows ahead of me. Grayson and Diana are leaning towards each other, their arms intertwined on the armrest. They’re quietly talking to each other, but I’m too far away to hear them. His thumb rubs against the back of her hand. Her cheek rests against his bicep.
How many times was Diana with him when she wasn’t in our room?
Diana has slowly changed over the last month. She’s started wearing more make-up, her hair is straightened, and she giggles at everything any of the boys say. If I’d met her now, I wouldn’t see any difference between her and the other DDDD girls.
> “God,” Demi mutters to Dahlia.
They sit directly in front of me, their perfume nearly choking me.
“She’s just lapping it all up, isn’t she? She’s so dumb. She thinks he’s actually into her.”
“I can’t believe we ever trusted her,” Dahlia whispers back. “I knew so many girls like her in my old school. They’re miserable without a man paying attention to them. She can’t even see that she’s not good enough for him. He’s just going to fuck her a few times and move onto the next one. Some girls are so gullible.”
I draw circles in my notebook where I should be jotting down notes. It should make me feel better that Diana’s closest friends think she’s just a casual fling, but in the smallest change of circumstances, they could be talking about me.
Wasn’t I gullible? Wasn’t I dumb to think he was into me?
Grayson is making his way through the scholarship girls. I can’t even be certain I was the first. He might have convinced one of these other idiots that their relationship needed to be kept a secret for her sake.
“Do you think she’ll come crying to us about how he’s an asshole when he drops her?” Dahlia asks Demi. “Or will she act like she knew it meant nothing the whole time?”
“Oh, she’ll absolutely come crying and expect us to be sympathetic,” Demi says. She glances back, noticing me. “Are you eavesdropping?”
“Demi.” I lean forward. “If I ever gave a shit about what you were talking about, you could turn it into a national holiday.”
Her nostrils flare, but she quickly pastes on a smile. “Oh, I thought you’d be interested in anything about Grayson or Jay Winters.”
“Jay?” I twitch my pencil back and forth. “Why would I care if you were talking about either of them?”
“Oh, don’t play coy,” Demi says. “Aurora told me. I can’t imagine letting both of them tag team me and then losing Grayson because I was too clingy. That takes a special level of desperation.”
