Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Luna
Refreshing my email for the hundredth time, there’s still no word from the Chess Hall. I tell myself it’s only been twenty-four hours, and to give it time.
Vince joins me. “Morning,” he says coolly.
“Am I allowed to eat cereal, or is force-feeding me on your agenda this morning?” I bring the spoon to my mouth and slurp obnoxiously. We had such a fun day yesterday, until Vince’s mood turned to shit. So I’ll see his bad mood and raise him a bad attitude. I racked my brain to try and figure out if I did something to piss him off, but for once, I was on my best behavior. Not that I care, I remind myself.
Vince looks like he has some wiseass comment on the tip of his tongue, but his phone vibrates, and he grabs it from his suit pocket. Reading the message, he announces, “I’ve got some things I need to handle this morning.”
“Shaking down poor souls?” I ask .
“Your tutor will be here at eight. Have you heard from the Chess Hall?”
“No,” I mumble.
“It’s only been twenty-four hours. Give it time,” he says, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Get out of my head!
“I spoke to your coach this morning,” he continues. “One-on-one training starts next week. As I said before, once you’re accepted to the Chess Hall, we’ll figure out the logistics.”
I grin from ear to ear. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, and don’t blame me when your time ‘under my thumb’ gets extended. Five hundred an hour is gonna add up quick.”
“I understand that,” I tell him. “But it’s a necessary investment.”
He crosses his arms. “That remains to be seen.”
“Fool’s mate,” I remind him. “You pay for what you get.”
“Then what is it I’m paying for, Luna? Besides the hassle?”
“My sunny disposition.” I bare my teeth at him, acting like his comment didn’t sting. The doorbell rings, and I roll my eyes. “Oh, wonderful. The tutor.”
Vince mutters something as he takes off to answer the door.
My phone flashes a notification, and I grab it and read the text message.
We still a go?
Oh, shit. I completely forgot about my belated birthday plans.
“Mr. Vincenzo.” The tutor giggles.
Gritting my teeth, my thumbs rage-peck my response.
All systems go.
I pocket my phone and walk to the living room. “There she is,” Vince says to me.
“Luna, are you ready?” The tutor flashes the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something from a girl who attended the most uppity private school in all of Jersey.
Ignoring them both, I plop down on the floor and grab my study guide.
“Ladies, I’m gone,” Vince says.
“Good,” I mutter under my breath.
“Bye, Mr. Vincenzo.” My tutor watches him walk out the door, waiting until he’s long gone before turning her narrowed eyes to me. “What is your relationship to Mr. Vincenzo?”
“What’s it to you?” I counter.
“Are you a relative? He’s not old enough to be your dad,” she speculates.
“No, but he is old enough to be my daddy ,” I say, just to fuck with her.
She gasps, looking like she might fall out of her chair.
My lips curve into a cruel smile. “Aww, did you think you were going to move in on Vince? Sor-ry, beat you to him.”
“I,” she stutters.
“There’s the door.” I jerk my head. “Fucking use it.”
She bristles. “Mr. Vincenzo hired me. I don’t answer to you.”
“Whatever.” I grab a practice test and set a timer on my phone, getting to work.
A few hours go by, and my tutor excuses herself to the bathroom.
I tiptoe to the kitchen, carrying a chair down the hallway and propping it under the bathroom door handle.
Grabbing my bag, I hustle out the front door and sprint down the sidewalk, keeping pace until my side catches and I’m sucking wind. I slow to a stop, doubling over with my hands on my thighs.
A luxury car pulls up the curb, and Olivia rolls down the window. “Hurry up and get in before I get carjacked. ”
I open the door and climb into the passenger seat, and she punches the accelerator.
“Why am I picking you up in the slums?”
“You are such a snob. This is a nice, middle-class neighborhood.” I find myself defending Vince and his home for some reason.
“No thanks.” She shudders. “Why are you here?”
“I was with my tutor.” A tutor who’s probably just now discovering she’s locked in the bathroom without her phone. I smile.
“Ah, that makes more sense,” Olivia says, and I hate how elitist she is, while at the same time, I hate how badly I want to be accepted into the rich kid’s club. Or at least, I wanted to be accepted. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I say, pulling my dress over my head to reveal my bikini top and jean shorts before buckling up. I’ve made sure to cake on the body makeup over my scars.
“Not fair! Your tits are so nice.” Olivia pouts. “I’m finally getting mine done this summer after graduation. Huge party at Kyle’s dad’s house, I’ll keep you posted.”
She grabs her phone, eyes on it as she types a text.
I grip the door handle for dear life as we careen dangerously close to the curb. “Uh, Olivia?”
“What?” Tossing her phone, she jerks the wheel seconds before we hit a bus stop bench. “Now that I’ve got you alone, it’s time to spill the tea.”
“I told you, I left school to focus on chess.” I left school because Vince is a tyrant.
“Well, Aspen’s been gloating non-stop.” Olivia rolls her eyes. “She claims responsibility for getting you expelled after the whole shanking incident.”
I snort. “Aspen wishes she had that much power.”
“So you admit to shanking her!”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I admit to nothing. Who’s meeting up with us?” I change the subject .
“Just yours truly. Our go-to forger’s grandma passed away, and so he’s back home; no one could get a pass.”
“How did you get one?” I wonder.
“I have my parent’s electronic signatures on file.” She waves a hand. “They prefer I don’t bother them with trivialities. Which way? I’ve never been to the boardwalk.”
“Turn right at the next light,” I instruct her, and we pull into a parking lot.
Olivia pays to park, and we stroll down the boardwalk and past the arcade.
“What’s wrong?” She eyes me.
I must’ve made a face. “I’m hungry.”
“You do get bitchy when you’re hungry.”
I would argue, but it’s true.
We grab a greasy slice of pizza, and Olivia uses a fake ID to buy a beer. She offers me a sip, but I shake my head, my mother of all hangovers as Nicky called it still fresh in my mind. And my stomach ; it churns thinking about it.
“Oooh, let’s get a tattoo!” Olivia stops at the window of a tattoo shop, and we check out some of the designs in the window.
“Damn. I forgot my credit card,” I lie, not having a credit card.
“My birthday gift to you.” She pulls me inside the shop.
We’re greeted by a tatted-up front desk clerk who checks our IDs before handing us the artist’s portfolio to browse. Not finding what I have in mind, I scroll the Internet.
“Your phone has seen better days.” Olivia eyes my phone.
“Slipped out of my hand.” And at Vince’s head.
Getting an idea of the ink I want, I grab a piece of paper and draw out a basic design.
The artist introduces herself, and after our consultation, Olivia’s first in the chair for a minimalist violet tattoo on her ribcage; Violet her middle name .
“What’s your middle name?” she asks me, gritting her teeth as the buzzing sound of the needle fills the room.
“Oh, I don’t have one.” Like my mother couldn’t be bothered with choosing two names for her unwanted child.
“Really?” I’ve never known anyone who didn’t have a middle name.”
“Maybe I’ll drop my last name and go by Luna,” I joke.
“When you become one of those nerdy chess pros,” Olivia ribs.
I shrug. “That’s the plan.”
The artist holds up a mirror, and Olivia checks out her ink. “Looove.”
“So cute,” I agree.
It’s my turn in the chair, and my turn to grit my teeth. “Fuck! Why didn’t you tell me how bad this hurt?” It feels like the needle’s drilling into my bones.
“Because you would’ve chickened out,” Olivia says, snapping a selfie of her new ink.
“You ladies did choose one of the most painful spots to get your first tattoo,” the artist points out.
Mine takes a little longer, but when it’s finished, I’m bouncing in the chair with excitement. “Looks fab,” Olivia comments, typing something on her phone.
I stand and turn sideways, checking out the minimalist, linear moon phases tattoo beginning at my upper ribcage and ending a few inches below my armpit. “I love it!”
Olivia pays, and I thank her for the birthday present as we walk out the shop, giggling with excitement.