34. Juliet
34
JULIET
T hese men are slowly chipping away at me until I feel like I'm no longer the Juliet that I made to keep myself safe. I've become someone new. The night in the woods had been both the hottest sexual experience of my life and, in the same breath, the most terrifying. I'm not so naive as to realize that I didn't walk into Nolan's trap and let myself be captured. I'd thought I was smarter, that I had him under my control. I'd been so fucking wrong.
The Scorpion Kings are uncontrollable.
Days turn into weeks and I find out that the professor looking guy from the boys’ last game was actually a scout—from Eastpoint University, no less. The football season is crawling by, but like all good things, it’s coming to an end.
I’m so focused on the games, my shifts at the Dionysus Lounge, and midterms that I forget about damn near everything else. That is, until Mads points out that there’s something else around the corner.
“ Winter Formal .” My lip curls in distaste at the words as I stare at her over the bar’s countertop while unpacking a box of cocktail napkins and setting them in their place.
“Are you going?” she asks, prodding me with the same question that brought this whole subject matter to light.
“I…” I rifle through the box in my hands for the last napkins as I contemplate my answer. Last year, I was Silverwood Prep’s Winter Formal Queen as well as Junior Prom Queen. This year, I’m… nobody. I don’t have to dress up and take photos with a date and people who couldn’t give a shit less about me. “I don’t know,” I admit.
“It’ll be your last chance,” she warns me, taking the empty box I pass over to her and slicing through the underside to break it down. “It’s senior year. I don’t think they have formal stuff like this in college.”
“Depends on what college you go to,” I tell her.
Crystal-blue eyes meet mine. “Speaking of, what colleges have you been applying to? They’re due soon, aren’t they?”
I shrug. “Some aren’t due until February.” I duck down and pop open the mini washer Ma-Ri somehow managed back here, pulling down the glasses inside and replacing them in the rack to the side. With all the lights on in the club, the doors shut and locked, it’s only me, Mads, one of the bartenders, and Ma-Ri in the back office left to clean up and close for the night.
“I applied to a couple of places,” Mads says absently. “I don’t know if I’ll get in, or if I do—I don’t know how the hell I’m going to pay for it—but… I hope I get accepted regardless.”
If anyone deserves to get the fuck out of Silverwood and away from controlling parents, it’s her. I finish pulling the freshly cleaned—and scorching hot—glasses from the mini washer and shut it before rounding the counter.
“You’re smart,” I tell her. “I can’t imagine you not getting in, and they have loans and scholarships.”
Mads drifts away from the bar, following me as I head towards the back hallway and towards the locker rooms. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Pausing at the uncertain note in her tone, I look back, and what I see makes me turn completely around. “Okay, what’s up?” I demand, planting my feet even as my phone vibrates in my pocket, letting me know that one of the guys is most likely here to pick me up.
She shrugs, scuffing her nonslip sneaker on the black floor underfoot. I frown and take a step towards her. “Seriously?” She lifts her head at my caustic tone.
“I just…” Her lips pinch together and her face scrunches up. “I just really want this year to be over,” she finally says on a pent-up exhalation. “I know everyone says we should appreciate being young while we can, but I want out, you know? College represents freedom, and I’m worried because I submitted my applications pretty early and I thought, I don’t know, that maybe I’d have heard back from at least one of them by now.”
Leaning forward, I reach out and clasp both of her shoulders in my hands. “You are going to get into a college,” I tell her. “I have no doubt in your capabilities. You don’t need to justify what you want to anyone, least of all me.”
I will her to hear the words coming out of my mouth and to believe them, but I know she won’t. Not so long as she’s living with those parents of hers. To them, she needs to justify her very existence. Mads gives me a watery smile and nods.
“Thanks, Jules,” she murmurs, gently brushing my hands away. I take a step to the side, letting her slip past me and into the locker rooms, hating the slump of her shoulders. I’m debating the merits of going after her and pressing for more information—to see if maybe there’s more going on that I don’t know about—when Ma-Ri’s office door opens.
A waft of smoke precedes the older woman’s head poking out. “Good, you’re still here,” Ma-Ri snaps before waving her red-nail tipped hand in my direction. “Come.”
A groan threatens to spill out of my throat, but I bite it back and trudge towards the open door of her office. The moment I step inside, the door slams closed at my back and I jump, turning as Ma-Ri shuffles past me, a long cigarette holder in one hand. She hunches slightly as if her back is giving her some trouble, and eventually when she makes it to the other side of the desk, she drops down into her seat and taps the nails of her free hand against the flat surface.
“Sit.” She gestures with her cigarette holder.
I take a seat in the rickety plastic fold-out chair across from her and wait. Ma-Ri’s not usually one for mincing her words, but she doesn’t immediately launch into whatever it is that has brought me to her office. Instead, she reaches into one of the drawers at her side and pulls free a pack of fresh cigarettes.
I’m forced to wait and watch as she unwraps it, slapping one side against her palm and then withdrawing one to perch on the end of her holder and then light it. She takes a deep drag and slowly releases a long stream of smoke. I peer to the side of her desk, finding the small waste paper basket stationed there littered with other packs amongst the shreds of trash inside.
How many has she had today? I don’t dare ask the question out loud. I’d rather not get smacked by that cigarette holder, and I’d seen her do it to a few of the hosts when they asked what she deemed were stupid questions.
When more than a few minutes have passed and there have been no less than three more buzzes in my pocket, I finally risk it. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?”
Ma-Ri blows out another long tendril of smoke. “Yes.” The word is sharp, a knife dropping from her red painted lips. “I wanted to ask how things with my niece were?”
“Your… Roquel?” I clarify.
She nods.
“Uh, they’re fine? We’ve been prepping for midterms, so she’s been stressed—we all are.”
Ma-Ri bobs her head, but her lips strain as they curl around the end of her cigarette holder. “And Madison?” she pushes. “How is she?”
I frown and then lean forward. It’s time to cut the bullshit. “What’s going on, Ma-Ri?”
For a moment, I expect her to deny that anything could be going on. It’s written all over her face, the need to hide it. Putting the cigarette holder back to her mouth, she sucks in and then immediately coughs when she does it too quickly. I jump up from my seat and cross around the desk, reaching for her shoulder as she shudders and hacks her way through the unfortunate inhalation.
When the coughing starts to ease up, I hurry over to the corner of her over-packed office with papers and knick-knacks taking up residence on every available surface. I grab a paper cup above the water jug in the corner and press the lever to pour out about half of it before bringing it back to her. Setting down her cigarette holder, she takes the cup and gulps down several mouthfuls.
“You’re starting to freak me out,” I tell her honestly as I crouch next to her plush chair. “Am I in trouble?”
She coughs once more before shaking her head and setting the cup on the surface in front of her. One of her hands presses to her forehead while the other remains gripping the edge of the desk. Careful not to touch her, I ease up from my crouch and look down at the woman before me.
Despite her stature, Ma-Ri has never struck me as a particularly fragile or weak woman. She’s whip smart and fucking terrifying on a good day. I suppose she has to be in order to have immigrated from overseas and set up shop here with her own club. Patience isn’t one of my strong suits, but of all the women I respect, Ma-Ri is right up there with Principal Long. So, I suck it up and retake my seat and wait for her to tell me the real reason why she asked me into her office.
After a moment of tense silence, Ma-Ri shakily opens one of the drawers in her desk again. She doesn’t say a word as she pulls out what appears to be a checkbook and snatches a pen from where it rolls beneath one of the copious amounts of books and folders and binders stationed on top of her desk. It takes everything in me not to try and crane my neck to see what she’s writing, but I don’t need to wonder for long.
She finishes scribbling something across the first page and then rips it free. Her somewhat wrinkled hands grip the slip of paper tightly, and a strange sort of dread sinks into the bottom of my stomach.
“Ma-Ri?”
At the sound of my voice, she jolts, and then she shoves the check towards me without looking at me. “This is your severance pay,” she says.
“Severance pay?” I repeat the words as she pushes the paper into my hand. “I don’t understand.”
“Your presence is no longer required at the Dionysus Lounge, but I appreciate all of the hard work that you’ve put in here”—
“You’re firing me?”
Ma-Ri keeps talking as if I haven’t spoken. “If you need a recommendation for another place of employment…” She winces. “Well, I’m sure you’ll want to make sure that you put down something more appropriate for a new position.”
My fingers are numb where they grip the paper check. I don’t even look down to see how much she’s given me. “Did I do something wrong? Did I insult a client?” I ask.
“Guest.” The correction is automatic as it comes from her lips. Then she shakes her head, still not looking at me. “No, no, of course not. I … simply think that your employment here needs to come to a natural end. You’re a high school student and you need?—”
“So is Madison!” I snap. “Is she being fired too?”
Ma-Ri doesn’t answer me for a long moment. “Who I decide to keep employed and who I decide to let go is none of your concern,” she murmurs quietly. Far too subdued for the woman I know she is.
Finally, I look down at the check in my hand and what I see makes my eyes widen. “What the fuck?” I slap the paper down on her desk as if the damn thing will scorch me if I keep it any longer. “This isn’t severance pay,” I snap. “This is a fucking…” I don’t know what it is, but no employer would ever offer a waitress five thousand dollars. It’s fucking hush money is what it is. For what, though?
Adrenaline courses through my veins at lightning speed. I begin to tremble. Just a little at first and then harder as I reach up, gripping my hair and shoving it back out of my face. I can’t understand. Why would she fire me? Why now?
I stare at the woman across from me who hasn’t managed to even look me in the eye once since she wrote the damn check. “ Look at me ,” I bark.
She jolts and then, slowly, infinitely slowly she lifts her gaze to mine. There’s no anger in her expression. It’s filled with resoluteness, with defeat and worse… with fear.
My shoulders slump and I take a step back, away from her and the desk, shaking my head.
“Take the money, Juliet,” Ma-Ri orders, her voice a mere ghost of its usual volume.
I can’t, though. Ma-Ri is an intelligent woman, and I know her club does good business, but she can’t afford to be handing out five thousand dollar severance checks. I take another step back.
“Juliet.” Her tone rises a bit, a warning.
I shake my head. “If you want to give me something that’s more appropriate for a cocktail waitress that’s only worked for you for a few months, I’ll take it, but that…” I gesture to the check I left on her desk. “I won’t take that. I respect you, Ma-Ri. That earns you the right to my silence far more than your money ever will.”