22. Vani
CHAPTER 22
Vani
“Hey, there you are.”
An arm hooks through mine, and I can’t help but jump. The memory of Zane holding a knife to my throat is still fresh in my mind. I even had to wear a high-necked top to hide the tiny stab point, especially as a bruise has formed around it, too. I don’t want to have to answer any awkward questions.
But it’s Angelica, and I force myself to relax. I’m walking to the cafeteria for a coffee and not in the mood for being sociable.
“Hi.” I paste a smile on my face. “How are you?”
“Good. You want to come to the bar later? Friday is nineties night. The others are coming, too.”
“The others?” My damned brain just flashes the Vipers into my head. Can’t I think of anyone else?
“Yeah, Faith and Jarena. We could do with a girls’ night, right? Let our hair down a bit. All this studying and no fun makes for a dull existence.”
My existence is anything but dull right now. In fact, I could definitely do with a little boredom. It’s as though I’ve been in a storm—blown and buffeted in all directions, while all I’ve been able to do is hold on. Speaking of storms, the weather is terrible right now. A heavy rain drums the college windows and roofs, and a wind has whipped up and is howling around the turrets.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I could do with a quiet night in.”
“You can have a quiet night in when you’re thirty and old. Right now, we’re young and gorgeous and deserve to enjoy ourselves.”
I can’t help but laugh. Maybe it would do me good. I’m also drawn to hanging out with them because they knew Reagan. Even if they didn’t know her particularly well, they’re still the closest thing I have to getting to know her.
I wonder if Reagan had any other friends. Was there anyone else she was closer to? These are the sorts of things I can ask the girls tonight. Finding out that Reagan has died doesn’t mean I’m just going to forget about her, no matter what kind of threats Dean Rossi throws at me. Maybe I’m not supposed to be talking about her, but I’m sure Angelica and the others won’t rat me out. They understand I can’t just put her out of my mind. I have to know the truth behind what happened to her, what was going through her head in her final moments.
And if anyone—such as the Vipers—was behind her death.
I flash Angelica a smile. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I need to enjoy myself more.”
“Awesome. Eight p.m. in the bar? Dress to impress.”
I’m not sure that’s going to happen since I’m still hiding rope and knife marks, and not to mention the bruises and scrapes I still have from the crash. I also don’t own a lot of sexy dresses and that type of thing, firstly because my father would have a shit fit if I wore those around the club, and secondly because I’m just more comfortable in my jeans and a tee. I’m still moving tenderly from the insane sex session I had last night, too, but I do my best to hide it. Honestly, I look like a fucking mess right now. I imagine what my dad would say if he saw me, and my heart crushes a little. He’d be absolutely livid, and he’d whisk me away from this place—and these people—immediately.
I haven’t seen the Vipers yet today, and I hope it stays that way. While I still haven’t given up on my plans to get revenge, I’m aware I need a rethink.
What Zane did to me last night terrified me, and his message made it clear that he understood exactly what I was trying to do. It means splitting them up is a no-go.
There must be other ways I can get at them.
We need space, while I think about how to get revenge.
I have to accept that no matter what I do or say, they’re never going to believe me, just like I don’t completely believe them. They hate me, which includes them sending me shitty messages, and they’re toxic. Still, it frustrates me that they don’t believe me when I’m telling the truth. I hate myself for letting them get to me when they might have killed Reagan, but the fact is that they do.
Getting myself worked up, I think back to how Lex supposedly cared more about his car than my sister when she died. Who does that? A fucking sociopath, that’s who.
And Saint with his clothes… An idea comes to me suddenly. Their things. They love their stuff, all the materialistic crap they are into. Both the twins do. How about if I fuck up Lex’s car, and then destroy Saint’s preening closet of clothes?
It’s about all they seem to care about. Materialistic shit. That makes them seem even more psycho. Although, it’s not entirely true, is it? Saint does have his paintings. He loves those as well.
The fact that he feels he has permission to paint me makes me angry today. I don’t want him to depict me for himself, taking my body and making it his.
That is my way to get the twins back, for sure. Ruin their things. But which ones? Lex’s car? Saint’s paintings? They’d have no idea it was me, and I bet they underestimate me enough to think I’d never do that. Stupid little Vani, with her soft heart. Yes, I doubt they’d suspect me.
What about Zane, though? What does he love? The only thing he cares about is himself … and maybe me. A little. Not in a healthy way, but in that intense, messed up way of his.
I think back to his note and try to suppress the flutter I get at the memory.
It will be difficult to get back at them when they’re already so hardened to the world, but, if I can find the thing Zane loves too, I can at least try.
I want to hurt them. To make them feel some of the anger and pain they’ve put me through. It’s not right that they should just be able to swan around here like the fucking lords of the manor after what they’ve done. They need to be taken down several pegs. To understand that they can be hurt too.
Later that day, I’m relaxing in a bath and still ruminating on the Vipers. I’m getting ready to go out with the girls and trying to soak the aches out of my bones. I hope the three of them aren’t there tonight, but I know I’m still going to dress for the possibility that they will be.
That’s the thing with them. I should quit them, but, like an addictive drug, I just keep going back for more. Shit, I wish I had more self-control around them.
Dragging myself out of the bath, I dry off, and with the fluffy towel wrapped around me, consider what to wear.
I could go for the body-con dress of last night, but I don’t want Zane to think I’m sending him some kind of signal if he goes to the bar.
In the end, I settle for tight jeans that hug my ass to perfection, and a long-sleeved, skinny rib top that makes my tits look amazing, despite not showing any flesh.
A pair of cowboy boots under my jeans, and a small purse for my wallet and phone, and I’m ready, so far as my outfit goes. I brush some bronzer on my cheeks and nose, a touch of mascara, and a hint of lip-gloss and study my reflection. I still look tired, so I add some winged liner to brighten my eyes and make them the focus of my face. A spritz of perfume, and I’m as good as I’m going to get.
The minute I hit the bar, and the wall of music and excited voices greet me, I regret my decision. I should have stayed in my room and watched Netflix. What the hell do I want to be here for? I am in no mood for partying, and dancing is off the agenda because my damn hips feel like I’m ninety after my legs were tied for so long.
I need to get into shape if rope play is going to feature in my life on a regular basis. I shake my head at myself . No, it won’t be because I’m not going to let the Vipers fuck with me that way again.
I spot Angelica and the other two girls in the far corner of the bar. I grab myself a Coke, and head to join them. They turn to me as one and grin. Faith moves up a little to make room along the bench where she is sitting.
A pretty girl with mid length blonde hair walks by and glances at the table, her eyes narrowing and her nose scrunching as if there’s a bad smell in the air.
“What are you staring at, Verity?” Angelica snaps.
The other girl gives Angelica the finger before pivoting on her heel and stalking away.
“She is such a bitch,” Jarena says.
“The sort of girl who thinks her own shit doesn’t smell,” Faith says, making me laugh.
“Her nose really got put out of joint when the Devils went and fell for Mackenzie.” Jarena smirks, but Angelica purses her lips.
“The Devils have made themselves look ridiculous with that girl.” Angelica shakes her head. “Verity might be a raging bitch, but at least she’s not a disgusting whore who takes three men at once. That’s all that Mackenzie is. She’s so cheap and trashy, it’s unbelievable.” She leans forward, her eyes sparkling now that she’s getting into the gossip. “Can you imagine what even goes on with those three? I mean, how does it work? It’s absolutely sick, if you ask me. Does she let them in all her holes at once? Slut. ”
She says the word slut with a hard, extended T, and sneers.
My stomach churns at her words. Even though she’s talking about Mackenzie—who, as far as I can tell, is sweet as pie—it feels like she’s aiming her comments at me. She knows the Vipers have been interested in me. All three of them. Is she trying to make some kind of passive aggressive point that people will think those kinds of things about me if I let it go any further?
Thoughts of last night flash into my head, and my cheeks burn. If only she knew how far I already have taken it. I had the twins’ cocks inside me at the same time while Zane watched. I think that would definitely count as slutty in Angelica’s book. But at least now she thinks I hate them because of them being involved in what happened with Reagan. Hopefully, she’ll never know the truth.
I pick at the beer mat on the table, as I start to tear strips of paper from the corner.
“Are you okay, honey?” Angelica smiles sweetly at me. “I’m sorry someone wrote that shit about you all over the lockers.”
My cheeks warm. “Oh, yeah. That. It’s nothing.”
“Just someone putting the new girl through her paces,” Jarena says. “That sort of shit happens to everyone.”
I brighten at her words. It makes me feel better to know I’m not alone. Does this mean the Vipers aren’t responsible for the horrible note writing either? Though the words had felt personal, maybe they weren’t.
“It does?” I ask.
Jarena nods. “Yeah, it’s like the Verona Falls version of hazing, you know.”
“Did it happen to any of you?” I look around at the three of them hopefully.
“Well, no,” Faith admits. “Not to us, but it does happen.”
“And obviously, you kind of stand out here.” Angelica makes a vague circling motion with her finger at me. I’m not sure if she’s indicating my clothes, or my size, or my tattoos. Maybe all three.
I cringe in my seat. “Sure, of course.”
She flashes me a smile. “Try not to let it get to you.”
“Oh, I’m not. I’ve got more important stuff to worry about than that.”
Angelica blinks. “You do?”
“Well, yeah.”
I want to tell her how stressed I am. What with the Vipers, and Reagan, and the mess I am in. However, I remember my plans for tonight were to try to find out more about Reagan, so I need to keep myself calm and together.
I shrug and add, “I suppose I just keep thinking about Reagan and the awful thing that happened to her.”
I might as well try to bring her into the conversation as early as possible. I’ve heard these evenings can get raucous and the music loud, so we might not have much chance to talk later.
Jarena tilts her head to one side. “You seem awfully invested in someone who was a childhood friend. I don’t mean to be cruel,” she adds quickly. “It’s just that I don’t even think about most of my childhood friends anymore.”
“We were really close,” I say. “More like sisters than friends.” The urge to tell them the truth is so overwhelming, but I can’t. It’s too dangerous.
A large, muscular man walks over to the table holding a tray, which he sets down onto the worn wooden surface. He takes a huge bowl of ice, blue liquid and plastic fish, and places it down by the tray.
The liquid sloshes around in the bowl, and the small plastic fish in it move around as if they’re swimming. My heart sinks. As cute as it looks, I’m really not in the mood to start drinking fish bowls tonight.
“Do you want glasses or just straws?” the barman asks.
Angelica flashes him a bright smile and flutters her eyelashes. “Just straws, thanks.”
She doesn’t bother to ask anyone else their opinion, which is something I’m beginning to realize is her usual way.
He returns a moment later with straws and passes them out. I place mine on the beer mat next to me and continue to sip my Coke.
“You’re not going to have a drink?” Faith asks.
“I’m quite tired,” I say truthfully.
“Girl, don’t ruin the night.” Angelica rolls her eyes. “This is party night. It’s the weekend tomorrow, so you can spend the whole day in bed doing nothing. There are no lessons, and you can just chill out, watch Netflix, and drown in carbs. Tonight, we drink and party.”
Now I’m the one wanting to roll my eyes. I didn’t even want to come here. I also hoped I’d get a chance to talk properly about Reagan, but just as I’m about to try to steer the conversation in that direction, a pounding beat starts up.
“I love this song,” Faith squeals. “Imagine how cool it must have been to grow up in the nineties. They had all the best music and movies. I’m going to dance. Does anybody want to join me?”
Angelica shakes her head, as do I. Jarena, though, stands and sashays to the dance floor beside Faith.
Angelica picks up my straw and passes it to me, holding it in front of my face. She stares at me, her jaw jutting, and eyes determined.
“Drink,” she orders. “Come on, you’re here for a good night. You look like you could do with it. You only get to live through college once. There’s no point in being here if you’re not going to get the full experience, after all.”
“Well, there is the educational side of it.”
I smile at her, but she doesn’t return my expression. Instead, she simply seems puzzled, as if she can’t compute the fact that we are here to study.
She dips her straw into the huge bowl and sucks up some of the blue liquid. For some reason, whenever I see a fishbowl cocktail, it always reminds me of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I imagine it being the kind of drink Willy Wonka would have invented.
“Try it. It’s gorgeous. I asked him to go light on the shots and heavy on the sugar, so you shouldn’t get too wasted if you have some.” She smacks her lips.
Knowing I won’t win this battle, I stick my straw into the drink and suck. Sugary, cold goodness bursts on my tongue. I must admit, the barman here makes a mean cocktail. This is delicious. I have tasted fish bowls before, because sometimes the girls at the club bar will ask for them. They’ll sit around drinking and giggling, and a few times I’ve had a taste—when my Dad or any of his sergeants aren’t looking my way, of course.
The vodka hits with those club ones way before anything else, whereas this really is sweeter. It tastes like the nicest slushy you could ever imagine, and it’s way too easy to drink. I end up sucking up more than I’d intended before I stop myself. Leaning back with a soft laugh, I shrug. Maybe Angelica is right and I should let my hair down.
“That’s delicious.”
“Told you,” Angelica says. “The bartender knows how to make it just how I like it. You can share this with us and not have to worry about getting too drunk. None of us like to be hungover the next day. Just relax, and we’ll have a little drink, and we’ll have a little dance, and by the time we go home, the world will seem right again.”
To my surprise, she reaches across the table and takes my hand. She squeezes twice then lets go.
“I really would like for us to be friends,” she says. “I love those two reprobates out there.” She jerks her thumb to where the girls are dancing and grins. “But three can be a crowd, you know? Four is a more even number. We’ve just never met anybody else we really liked. There are so many weird people here. Dangerous people, too. A lot of the girls are stuck-up as well, which always makes me laugh. I mean, we’re all from the same kind of background aren’t we, ultimately? None of us exactly have upstanding parents.”
I’m starting to see her in a different light. I’ve always been wary of Angelica out of the three. Tonight, though, she seems to be trying to be my friend. I could do with one as well.
Being here is lonely, despite the Vipers shadowing my every move. In fact, in some ways, perhaps it’s because of them that I’m lonely. It’s as if, from the moment I stepped foot here and saw Zane standing outside smoking, they owned me. In doing so, they carved me out from the rest of the college and kept me as their own. They’ve warned me away from these girls, but why should I listen to them?
They’re only doing that because they want me for themselves. None of these girls have done terrible things to me, called me nasty names, or threatened me with a damn knife.
The reality of some of the things the Vipers have done hits me full force, and I sit back in my chair. I realize with a sickening jolt that their actions have been completely insane and abusive.
“Hey, none of that.” Angelica taps the back of my hand with one glamorous nail and shakes her head. “I can see you’re getting all up in your head again. You overthink things, you know? You’ll drive yourself crazy if you analyze every tiny thing. Faith’s a bit like that.” She glances behind her at the dance floor and then back to me. “She’s got a heart of gold and would do anything for anyone, but she seriously thinks way too deeply about every aspect of life. Take another drink. That will take your mind off it.” She winks then gives me a cheeky grin.
The bar door swings open, and I glance across the dance floor.
My heart stutters.
Saint strides into the room, dressed like a prince from a fairy tale, and heads to the bar. He’s so strikingly handsome that even in this place full of hot, young men, he stands out by a mile. Hating the reaction I have to him, and struggling to control my rising panic, I pick up the straw and do as Angelica says.
I drink.
Right now, with one of the Vipers here, I feel like I want to drown in that cocktail, never mind take a sip. How the hell do they affect me so deeply?
Merely by entering a room, Saint has changed the whole trajectory of this evening for me. A few moments ago, I was beginning to think I might be able to relax and enjoy myself for one night, possibly even have a dance with my friends, if they ever stop playing this awful dance music and put something decent on. Now he’s here, and I’m going to be self-conscious and hoping he doesn’t spot me sitting in this corner.
Faith and Jarena return to the table, giggling as they sit down. Picking up their straws in tandem, they take long drinks from the cocktail bowl.
They start chatting, and they include me in it, but a lot of the time they talk about things I’m not interested in. Faith is hugely into nineties music, but mostly dance music and the like, which I don’t know anything about. Jarena talks about clothes and fashion and hair, and the handbag she wants to spend five thousand dollars on. Angelica listens but mostly watches the world go by as she passes judgement on everyone near us.
I don’t know any students to gossip about. I’ve never really been into fashion and that kind of stuff, and the music I listen to, I don’t think any of these girls would like.
The music changes suddenly, and it’s a track I love. As the Red Hot Chili Peppers blast out, I find my legs itching to move.
“I hope they’re not going to play much of this crap,” Angelica says. “Fuck it, I’m going to make a request.” She gets up and walks across the floor to the DJ booth, beckoning him until he leans down close. She cups her hand around her mouth as she speaks into his ear.
“I love this song. Will anybody come and dance with me?” I ask the other two. The urge to move my body is riding me hard, and whatever Angelica has requested is probably not going to be my kind of thing.
My hips are still stiff, but this might loosen them up.
Jarena shakes her head, but Faith nods.
“I’ll dance to anything,” she says with a laugh. “Come on.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the dance floor. I was going to stay around the edge near our table, because Saint has taken a seat at the far side of the room and, from where he is placed, the bar would obscure me from his sight. But Faith has hold of me, and she drags me right into the center of the floor.
I don’t even look in his direction. Hopefully there are enough people between us that he won’t notice me. Losing myself in the music, I let my body move side to side and realize I’ve missed this. Sometimes, when all the club members were at Church—which is the name for the meetings they’d have—I’d blast music out in the empty bar, dancing like a crazy person because there was no one else around.
What’s that saying?
Dance as if nobody’s watching? Something like that, anyway. Someone is watching me now. I sense it.
I feel his stare on me. It warms my tingling skin and makes me burn. My movements falter, and self-consciousness sets in. I’m anxious for the song to end so I can escape the dance floor and hide again in the corner. When it finally does, I tug on Faith’s sleeve.
“I’m heading back. I’m thirsty.”
She nods and happily follows me back to the table. Faith really is an easy girl to hang around with. I’d like to hang out with her without the other two around. I’m not sure whether asking her would cause trouble. Taking my seat, I pick up my straw and suck down more of the sugary cocktail. At least it’s not strong. It might give me diabetes, but it’s not going to give me a hangover.
As Waterfalls by TLC fills the room and the three girls sing along to it, I begin to feel something that I haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s bubbling inside me, and I realize it’s happiness. An uncomplicated, simple kind of happiness. The kind you get on a summer’s day, walking on the beach, or sitting with friends in a bar listening to music. It’s a completely different kind of feeling than what I experience in the Vipers’ company.
With them, I’m always on edge, anxious and unsure. Screw them for messing me up so badly. I pick up my straw and drink more of the cocktail, and then I join the girls in singing.
Soon, the four of us have our heads thrown back and are giving our full-throated appreciation to the awesomeness that is TLC.