Chapter Twenty-Three #4
And Velle pops in his earbuds, pulling his hood over his head. It’s his thing on flights; listening to music and zoning out. But this time, his eyes are subtly following Rook, who’s seated across the aisle from him, searching his bag for something.
“Crap…” Rook mutters. Joy looks up. “I forgot my headphones.” He turns to Velle. “You mind if I listen with you?”
Velle appears thoroughly appalled. It has me smirking.
“I’d rather jump out of this plane and plummet to my death,” Velle grumbles. Rook actually grins at that. As if he thinks it’s cute. “Who knows what kinds of bullshit you listen to…”
“I like the Eagles.” Rook shrugs.
“Yea, even more no…” Velle grimaces as if he’s highly offended. “That’s disgusting.”
Rook gets up. He’s all curiosity in his green eyes, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he scoots in next to Velle. “Let me listen.”
He actually plucks one of Velle’s earbuds out and sticks it into his ear. The rest of us are gawking. Joy and I share a look of baffled amusement.
Rook frowns for a second. But then he nods along to whatever music is playing in their ears. “I guess I get it…” He laughs at Velle’s blatant scowl.
“What is it?” Hancock asks, grinning.
“Diablo,” Velle mumbles, still grilling Rook hard with flames of blue frustration.
“That’s a jam,” Hancock sighs, settling back in his seat, closing his eyes to cat nap.
Joy huffs, shaking her head as we all go back to our activities. I’m still watching the two of them, though, marveling at the way Rook isn’t affected by Velle’s surly glares and stiff, unmoving bitchiness. Honestly, he seems to enjoy it.
Everyone thinks Velle is this huge, emotionless wild animal of a cocky asshole, programmed to be the Warden’s henchman and nothing more.
And sure, most of that is true, on the outside.
But I’ve known him a long time. I remember who he was before years and years of the island hardened him into who he is now.
You can’t blame the guy for embodying what The Ivory designed him for.
We don’t exactly get along, but truthfully, I don’t get along with anyone. Except Joy, and maybe Peters. Jasper is a grouch, but he’s cool. Hancock is okay when he’s not running his mouth. I think I could like Rook, but I don’t know him well enough yet.
Velle is he leader of the pack, and he knows it. Anyone watching from the outside could say he’s a meathead, too brash for his own good, and basically just a big tattooed menace who probably shouldn’t have as much power as he does.
But not getting fucked up allows me to see what others either can’t, or just refuse to. The weight of the world is on John Chevelle’s shoulders, and if he’s any level of narcissistic asshole, it’s because he has to be in order to survive.
I liked him a lot better when he and Joy were dating, way back when I first started. The relationship kept him grounded. Sure, he’s a hard-ass by nature, but he wasn’t unbearable. In fact, he was happy.
The Ivory couldn’t have that. He didn’t want that.
None of us can be happy—it’s a stipulation of working here—but especially not his most cherished pet; the prototype on which he’s modeled us all.
I would never admit it out loud, but I think Rook could be good for Velle. Does it make me jealous to think about? Sure. But I can’t help wondering what would happen if Velle decided to say fuck what The Ivory wants and just… do what he wants.
Considering things like happiness, versus fear, keeps me deep in my thoughts for the duration of our barely thirty minute flight. I don’t even remember what we watched, but it doesn’t matter because we’re here, and I now need to wrap my head around going out.
Normally, this would be the time when I’d split from the herd, and take a cab to my home in Babylon. Instead, here I am being chauffeured into Manhattan with the rest of the group to check into our rooms that The Ivory has on permanent reserve at The Plaza.
“This is weird,” Hancock says.
I can feel him gawking in my periphery, and my head cocks his way.
“Having you here,” he goes on, in that casual shit-talking tone that could be mistaken for ditzy, when really, he’s just a troublemaker. “You never hang out.”
Yea, because I don’t want to.
Nikki is going out, which means I could just go home and be alone. But then, that seems just as depressing as going out to a club, sober and married.
Plus, I need to keep myself from venturing somewhere I shouldn’t…
“First time for everything,” I mutter.
“Like losing your virginity.” Jasper drops a taunting hand on Hancock’s knee. “I’m sure it’ll happen for you eventually, bud.”
“Says the guy whose crabs have herpes,” Hancock huffs.
Rook snorts.
“Anyway,” Velle rolls his eyes, “what would you like to do tonight?”
When no one says anything, I glance up. “Who, me??”
“Yes, you,” he grunts. “You’re going out for the first time in like ten years… Hubby’s choice.”
He grins, an almost Cheshire, pot-stirrer smile that gleams like that of a cartoon bad guy.
I look around at the rest of them, all staring at me in wait.
“Uh… I’m down for whatever.”
Hancock frowns.
“How about… Americana?” I sigh, the first club name that comes to mind.
I’ve never even been there before, I just remember scoring from a guy in the alley behind it like ten years ago.
Velle is making a face I can’t read, but the others seem onboard.
“Sounds like a plan.” Peters claps, grinning big. Bigger than usual. “I’m telling you, I need this. I’m gettin lit tonight!” He peeks at me and frowns. “Sorry…”
I shrug. “It’s fine. I don’t have to drink or get high to have fun. Let’s rage.”
Ew. Even saying those words makes me feel like a fake ass loser.
But my crew doesn’t seem to notice. Or they don’t care. They just whoop and cheer.
“Well, I plan on getting very high tonight.” Jasper bounces in his seat.
“Same. I might even pass out in a gutter.” Hancock winks at Joy. “Fingers crossed.”
She rolls her eyes, though she’s grinning. “Nacho’s friend is coming out. He already texted me.”
“Nice,” Jasper nods. “He’s got the best shit.”
“Yea, fine, but no more acid for you,” Velle grumbles, like Bad Daddy. “Last time I had to pay the hotel manager a thousand bucks after you broke into the kitchen and licked all the dishes.”
Jasper grins. “But the Snozzberries tasted like Snozzberries.”
Hancock cackles, and Jasper peeks at him, waggling his brows. Hancock is pursing down a rather fiery grin that seems like it means something.
Great… Now those two are probably boning too.
I don’t want to be as salty as I am right now, but I can’t exactly help it.
I’m jealous of everyone and everything, all the damn time, and it sucks.
The way they all just do things, without care or concern.
Maybe it could be viewed as reckless, or stupid…
But who am I to judge? I’m here because I was all of those things.
I was a shitty cop before I even became one, and I’d like to think I wouldn’t have been that dirty cop cliché, but I probably would have…
If it got me more drugs, I would’ve done just about anything.
I’m not that guy anymore, thank God. Not that it matters.
I’m stuck in hell regardless of how sober I am now. And on occasion, that has me envying these guys. Because the partying was fun, mostly for the turning off my brain and all my rampant self-hatred. Or at the very least, ignoring it for a while.
Sometimes I think about it… Just saying fuck it and joining the parties, like I used to when they first started. Getting fucked up and burning it all down, because this life I’ve built is a flimsy ass structure made of fucking kindling.
Addict or not, I’m still a hot freaking mess. And the worst part is that no one knows it.
I’ve been hiding the real me far longer than I ever hid my substance abuse.
Maybe if I hadn’t finally gotten clean for good five years ago, and instantly married someone who barely knew me as a sober person, let alone a person at all—one of the worst things you can do in early recovery—I wouldn’t be so stunted right now.
And habitually jealous of my coworkers because at least they can feel good without hiding it and dripping in immediate shame the moment the orgasm high wears off.
I’m feeling like a complete and utter fraud as we reach the hotel, splitting up to get ready.
I go with Joy, up to her room, and Rook tags along.
I don’t know much about the guy, but because the tension between him and Velle is as palpable as being set on fire when you’re in any shared space with them, I’d assumed he was gay.
But then, he also seems equally smitten with Joy.
It doesn’t surprise me. Bisexual is the default setting on Alabaster Isle. You’d think that would make it easy for me to be just a little open. But it’s not that simple…
I’m deep in this thing now. So deep, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to claw my way out.
It’s like quicksand. The more I struggle, the deeper I sink.
And now I’m realizing why going out with them isn’t good. We’re not even in the club yet and I’m already battling demons I haven’t danced with in years.
I was a wreck for a long damn time, and I know it was rooted in things deeper than just impulse control and some jacked up dopamine receptors.
I actually decided to become a cop after my dad almost killed me for kissing a boy, and my mother did the emotional equivalent of the same damn thing.
Because the police did absolutely nothing about it.
I still remember it, like it just happened… The police coming to the hospital, asking a bunch of questions. I guess a nurse had called them, because of how severe my injuries were.
They could tell I was terrified, but they didn’t care. They brushed the whole thing off, in that overtly homophobic way I’d seen from just about every cop I’d ever come in contact with back home.
He’ll think twice the next time he chooses to be gay.
And would you look at that?
They were right.