Chapter 4 Violet
VIOLET
“You good over there?” my best friend asks.
I’m rarely in the mood to shop, but after the shit show from last night, the idea is about as appealing as being served a sundae of dog poop and calling it a decadent dessert.
My nose wrinkles at the thought. Okay, enough metaphors for one day.
Hanger squeaking, I drag a red and white polo from left to right.
Lexie’s pointed stare only annoys me more.
“There’s nothing here,” I tell her.
She snorts. “I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who was begging me to cross into enemy territory so we could thrift shop?”
“I thought there would be a reason to celebrate,” I defend, flicking through the selections like they belong at the bottom of a dumpster.
And not a Harden Heights dumpster, but a Drift dumpster, which is saying something.
“And even if there was a reason to celebrate, there’s nothing here worth buying,” I continue.
“Come on, you’ve barely looked.”
Giving up, I fold my arms. “Okay, then I’m not in the mood.”
The woman has the audacity to smirk back at me, unperturbed despite my prickliness. “Look at you being honest.” She’s right. I’m usually a closed book. “Still mad about the Harden brothers?” she prods.
My nose scrunches even more. “I can’t believe they’d do that, you know?
Self-entitled pricks. They probably have an entire vault full of money, and yet they refuse to even consider being good people and giving me back my money.
It feels like a crime. A really dirty crime,” I ramble.
“Greedy bastards. I bet they laughed their asses off as soon as I hightailed it out of there.”
“I mean, the oldest one gave you three hundred bucks as a consolation prize for hitting him in the balls, so—”
“You’re missing the point.”
“I know, the three hundred wasn’t your money,” she says, mimicking me and making me feel like a broken record for how many times I’ve replayed the scenario, let alone filled her in on it.
I can’t help it, though. I was so close.
So freaking close to getting out of The Drift. Now I’m back at square one.
Folding my arms, I let out a huff. “I’m just saying, do you have any idea how expensive it is to live in Harden Heights, let alone how long I was on the waitlist for the apartment?
It was the only place within walking distance to campus even close to being in my price range and that was after a shit-ton of subsidies.
” The reminder hits like a punch to the gut, and I lean against the rack, the weight of the world landing on my shoulders all over again.
“I’m not going to get another opportunity like that, Lexie. ”
“I know, babe.” My best friend pulls me into a hug. “I know.”
She’s right. She does know. It might not be a picnic getting to know either of us, but once we finally decided to let our guards down around each other, we’ve been each other’s sounding board, therapist, life coach, and everything in between.
With the gate finally open, my word vomit continues as I wiggle out of her hold.
“The tuition alone is going to kill me, and living with my dad is an absolute nightmare. He invites random people to the house. Makes messes and expects me to clean them up. Snoops through my shit. Last year, he even tried selling one of my textbooks so he could buy alcohol.”
“He’s an ass,” she agrees. “Just like the rest of the lowlifes in The Drift.”
“After my experience with the Harden brothers, I’d say it might be more of a genetic thing than a geographical one,” I muse. “Boys are assholes.”
“Amen to that.” She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, returning to her search for something worth buying in the thrift store. Me, on the other hand? Well, I’ve given up. Metaphorically. Literally. Spiritually. All of the above. Stick a fork in me, ‘cause I’m done.
“But it would be really nice if someone could knock each of them off their high horses,” I grumble. “You know what I mean?”
“Who? The Harden brothers, or men in general?” She tugs a hanger off the rack and shoves it toward me. “Oooo, what about this?”
I take in the heathered gray fabric with the school’s logo stretched across the front, annoyed at how easily she found exactly what I was searching for.
The material feels soft but worn as I rub it between my thumb and forefinger.
Not like it could disintegrate at any minute.
More like it’s been lived in. Appreciated. Tried and true.
Without waiting for my response, she slips the wide neckline off the hanger and hands it to me. “Try it on.”
Lifting it up so I can fully inspect it, I point out, “It’s huge.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. Maybe if you’re lucky, people will assume it’s your boyfriend’s hoodie or something, and I can steal all the attention again.”
Yeah, because she needs more attention. The girl’s been taking full advantage of the opposite sex for as long as I’ve known her.
Okay, technically there was a bout of nunnery in the beginning, but then a family friend hired her at a strip club in The Drift, taught her how to basically weaponize her innocence to make money, and bam. All bets were off.
“Steal all the attention?” I quip. “Pretty sure they pay you for it.”
She bats her thick, dark lashes back at me, unashamed in the slightest. “And they’ll continue to do so until I’m old and gray.”
“So, no settling down for you, then?”
She fake gags. “Nope. No thank you. Men suck. It’s a fact, not an opinion.” She gives the hoodie in my hands a pointed look. “Try it on.”
Bunching the fabric in my hands, I slip it over my head in the middle of the empty thrift shop. “Mmm, it smells good.”
“Does it?” Lexie leans in and takes a whiff. “Uh, hell to the yes. This smells like sex on a stick.”
“Or a forest,” I offer.
“Or sexy man smell.” Her eyes light up as soon as my head pops out the other side.
There are perks to traveling into Harden Heights territory for shopping, and this is one of them.
No one wants to be seen in thrift stores on this side of town.
It’s also where all the locals donate their gently—if at all—used clothes, which works out well for girls like me and Lexie, even if I usually have to twist the woman’s arm to get her into enemy territory.
Lexie hates Harden Heights. The people. The money. The politics. She hates it so much, I’m surprised she reminded me of our little shopping retreat at all. Then again, it’s shopping. The girl never says no to shopping.
Before I even have a chance to find a mirror, Lexie grasps my elbow and twists me toward her. With a gasp, she says, “Yes. Yes, you’re getting it.”
“I haven’t even seen—”
“Yeah, but I have, and it looks so cozy, I might actually rip it from your body and steal it for myself.” My expression falls, and she grimaces. “Too soon?”
“To mention stealing after the shit show my dad put me through yesterday?” I offer wryly. “And how my entire life is up in shambles thanks to said thievery? Yeah. Yeah, I think it is.”
“Oh, come on.” She shoves me gently. “You’ve handled a lot worse, and your life is not in shambles.”
“Isn’t it?”
“So you have to stay with your dad another year. At least we’ll still be neighbors, right? And now that my brother’s officially moving here—”
“Your brother’s moving here?” I ask. “Like…The Drift?”
She nods.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just found out.” She shrugs. “I guess his extra-curricular activities are…lucrative?” She peeks over her shoulder and drops her voice low. “At the moment, anyway.”
I’d ask why she’s speaking in riddles, but I know Lexie.
We’re in Harden Heights. And the extra-curricular activities my best friend is skirting around?
Yeah…it’s probably best not to dive into specifics on this side of town.
Probably best not to dive into specifics on any side of town.
Not if I don’t want to be labeled a rat or wind up in handcuffs.
Okay, maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but am I?
Just because I’ve kept my nose clean in The Drift doesn’t mean the rest of the town has. Even Lexie has been known to dabble in the shadier side of the law or gather a few spicy secrets from higher-ups when she’s at work, and who am I to judge?
“Like I was saying, I’m kind of glad you’re not abandoning me,” she continues.
“I would never abandon you.”
“Sure, you wouldn’t—”
“I’m serious—”
“Of course you are,” she says. “Now, like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, Ethan’s in town, and since he has a fight tonight, I was thinking…”
I wait for her to finish her sentence, but the woman simply smirks at me, well aware she has me exactly where she wants me. “What?” I finally ask.
“What if we go?”
“To the fight?” I squeak.
“Yeah.”
“We never go to the fights. We never go to anything Harden related. And,” I ramble, as reason after reason manifest themselves. “Why is your brother going to a Harden Night, anyway? Your brother hates Harden Heights.”
“True, but he loves fighting, and from what I heard, he’s in line to fight Jagger tonight.”
“Wait, back up.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, regretting my lack of sleep even more because there’s no way I heard Lexie correctly. “What?”
“Supposedly, Ethan’s in line to fight the crowned prince himself,” she repeats. “Seriously, girlfriend. You have to start sleeping better.”
“I sleep fine,” I mumble. “It’s just…last night was a bitch.
” I hesitate, digesting her words like they’re a bucket of rocks.
She can’t be serious, though. Can she? And even if she is, the idea of Jagger—the man who had me pinned up against a dresser last night—fighting anyone is…
well, I don’t even know how I feel about it.
Does he deserve to have his ass kicked? Yes.
One hundred percent. No question. Do I want a front row seat to the man’s ass kicking? I mean, I am curious.
“Come on. You said you wish there was someone who could knock them off their high horses,” Lexie reminds me. “And since my brother is matched with Jagger and all, it seems to me like you might get your wish.” Her brows bounce up and down.
My wish. If I got my wish, Jagger would’ve returned my money, and I wouldn’t be in this situation.
I drop my head back toward the ceiling and bite my tongue to keep from beating the dead horse more than I already have.
Besides, this is…news. I don’t know how I feel about it. “And what if Ethan loses?” I argue.
“He won’t.”
“Okay, but what if—”
“Will you stop being such a Negative Nelly?” she begs. “People are freaking out. It'll be packed. We should go. What do you say?”
I suck my lips between my teeth as the pros and cons list writes itself.
Pro. I get to witness Jagger getting his ass kicked.
Con. I could potentially run into my dad.
Pro. I get to witness Jagger getting his ass kicked.
Con. I vowed to never go to one of these stupidly orchestrated gatherings.
Pro. I. Get. To. Witness. Jagger. Getting. His. Ass. Kicked.
With a grin, Lexie points out, “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
I give her the side-eye, refusing to let her see how tempted I really am.
It’s not that she’ll use it against me, it’s just…
karma hates me. As soon as I admit to myself—let alone anyone else—how much I want something, it’s usually snatched away from me.
But going to a fight night? I mean, it can’t hurt. Can it?
“Vi?” she prods.
“I’m on the fence,” I mutter.
Her smile widens. It only solidifies the truth, no matter how much I want to deny it. “Yeah, we totally need to get you a new outfit for tonight.”
As a last ditch effort to hold my ground, I state, “I don’t have the money—”
“Jagger gave you three hundred bucks, remember? Might as well use it.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Come on. I bet they have some good stuff in the back.”