Chapter 8
“Deliaaaaa,” Charlie whines around the Twizzler in her mouth, slapping the leather arm of the chesterfield. “Hurry up. I wanna be drunk already.”
“You sound drunk already,” Naomi grumbles. She’s sitting on Delia’s bed, her fingers flying over her phone screen.
“Art cannot be rushed,” Delia says loftily, dotting shimmery white powder at the corner of her eye. “Also, I’m almost done—calm your tits.”
Bianca, perched a little stiffly on the other end of the chesterfield sofa, leans toward Charlie. “Can I have a Twizzler?” she whispers.
Charlie yanks out the one in her mouth with a snap and offers it to Bianca.
“Never mind,” she says politely.
“Your loss, baby blue.” Charlie snorts, whipping the candy rope back into her mouth. Bianca doesn’t seem to know whether to be charmed or change seats.
I’m on my bed, hugging my legs to my chest, watching all four girls banter, joke, and tease each other. Ever since Delia met Charlie and Naomi on campus last week, we’ve all been hanging out together. Soon Bianca from art class joined our group, as well.
“We should get those painted.” Delia’s finished her makeup, looking red carpet worthy, and is now eyeing my feet. She pushes my big toe into the mattress. “I’m thinking oxblood.”
“Oxblood?” Charlie, a strict vegetarian, wrinkles her nose. “The hell is an oxblood?”
“A very rich, dark shade of maroon,” I say.
Charlie rolls her eyes. “Just call it blood. No need to bring cows into this.”
“Blood is bright red. This isn’t like that. It’s more like older blood. Blood that’s been sitting there for a while.” Delia smirks at Charlie, her dark eyes devious. “Like…imagine your tampon near the end of your period.”
The room erupts into general noises of disgust while I snicker into my knees. Charlie snatches one of my pillows and throws it at Delia, who catches it deftly.
“You need to come with a warning label, Delia,” Naomi snorts.
Bianca’s lips make a thin, pale line. Delia raises a brow at me.
“Awfully quiet, Rose,” she teases. “Did I shock you into silence?”
“Nah.” I make a show of wiggling my toes. “Go for it. Make ’em look like used tampons on day five.”
Charlie launches to her feet with a loud clap. “Welp. I officially need an entire bottle of vodka now.” She waggles a finger at Delia and me. “You guys are some sick puppies, lemme tell you.”
“We’re not puppies, we’re wolves.” I laugh, scooting off my bed.
“By the way,” Charlie says, “where the hell are you taking us, Delia?” She pins Delia with a look as she shrugs on her long wool coat. Bianca glances up from buckling her boots, curious.
“I’d like to know myself,” Naomi says as she peeks in the mirror, making last-minute adjustments to her curls.
Delia throws an exasperated hand at the ceiling. “It’s on the edge of campus. That’s all I’m telling you because, oh, wait, it’s a surprise.”
—
Delia brings us to a small, unmarked brick building that’s seen better days. Tucked just outside campus on a small half-forgotten side street, it would be easy to miss.
“Delia,” Charlie says evenly, “did you bring us here to murder us?”
“Maybe,” Delia says, pushing open the door, the motion causing a few flakes of peeling paint to flutter to the ground. “Come on.”
The inside of the bar is certainly a surprise.
Everything’s bathed in low red light from mismatched antique-looking chandeliers hanging at odd heights from the ceiling.
Candles burn in tiny niches in the brick wall, pale wax dripping down them.
All the bartenders are dressed in the same funeral-director all-black outfit.
But most striking, perhaps, are the many circular booths that fill the bar.
The seating is beautiful: high-backed maroon cushions on deep-buttoned crushed-velvet upholstery.
But the tables are painted to look blood-spattered, and the walls of the booths are covered in newspapers.
Hanging low above the center of each table is a single Edison light bulb encased in a clear rectangular glass fixture with a sort of display case at the bottom housing an item.
I can’t tell what most of the items are from this far away, but the lamp of the booth nearest to the door holds a bloody knife.
“Welcome,” Delia says with a grand sweep of her arm, “to Notorious. A themed bar featuring the ten most notorious crimes in all of Fairford’s history. Ten booths, ten crimes.”
“Holy shit,” Charlie breathes, “this place is real?”
“Everything about this place is real,” Delia says. Bianca’s mouth drops, and Naomi narrows her eyes.
A chill runs through me. It’s grotesque, but I’m no stranger to the grotesque. My whole life, I’ve been alone in my own personal horror show, after all.
Charlie’s reading the newspaper articles, delighting at the grisly details. Naomi and Bianca are discussing some of the murder items, looking horrified. I look over at Delia, whose eager eyes are on me, expectant.
“This is so fun,” I say sincerely. “Which booth should we take?”
Delia points to an empty one nearby, and we all take a seat. Our booth’s lamp displays a dirty silk ribbon with a few questionable splatters.
“Ah.” Charlie nods, pointing at the stains. “So that’s oxblood.”
As a thanks for everyone being so game, Delia buys the first round of drinks.
“How?” Naomi says when Delia brings back four sweaty pints of cold beer. With a flourish, she shows us her fake ID. Bianca seems impressed, and Charlie brays a laugh.
“Gertrude?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Delia sniffs. “You guys can Venmo me for the next rounds.”
“Dude, I saw you dancing with that cute sophomore at Autumn Fest,” Naomi says to Delia, as if suddenly remembering. “Did you get lucky?”
Delia and I exchange looks and start laughing.
I actually didn’t get a lot of time to debrief with Delia the morning after her night out with Amber.
We went straight to the dining hall after she returned from Amber’s apartment, and all I had the chance to do was tell her a little bit about Julian before Charlie and Naomi plopped down beside us.
“Let’s just say I changed her life.”
“Oh! So are you two dating now?” Bianca asks.
Delia does a literal spit take right into Charlie’s face.
“Bro,” Charlie growls, wiping the beer out of her eyes.
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…no.” Delia wipes her mouth.
“No, we are not dating, Bianca.” Delia pats Bianca’s hand.
“We had fun, but I’m…not really a monogamous kind of gal.
Tried it for a while.” Delia takes another gulp of beer.
“Not for me. Life’s too short. You gonna ever try that beer, Ro-Ro?
” She turns to me, her eyes glittering with amusement.
“Oh yeah. Sure.” I’ve never really met a beer I liked. But maybe this one’s different? I take a big gulp. Ugh. Nope. Definitely not.
Charlie gets the next round. Mojitos this time. These taste way, way better.
“You should try wine sometime,” Delia says, tapping her chin with a shrewd look on her face. “You seem like a red wine kind of girl.”
“Rose,” Bianca says, “how are you feeling about painting class? Seems like Julian’s been leaving you alone lately, at least?”
“Not anymore,” Delia crows. “Ask Rose who she watched the sun rise with the other morning.”
Charlie and Naomi look at me, curious. Bianca’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline.
“She’s not talking about Julian…is she?” Bianca asks.
My face burns. I drop my eyes, tracing the outline of a painted blood splatter below my mojito.
Ever since that morning in the studio with Julian, he’s been inexplicably on my mind.
His smile, his charming accent. It’s almost been enough to keep me distracted from thoughts of Hayden, whom I haven’t seen since Autumn Fest.
Almost enough.
“He sort of apologized for that first day, actually,” I say. “He was…super nice?”
Bianca leans forward, her eyes huge. “He is literally the hottest guy I have ever seen.”
From across the bar, a loud, raucous voice yells for Charlie and Naomi. Frowning, they turn around, and their eyes light up. Charlie waves.
“You guys wanna go hang out with them? Bianca, I think you’d dig my friend Chris.”
“I’ll go!” Bianca smiles, biting her lip.
We grab our drinks and head over to their enormous group of friends. “Okay, here we go. Right to left.” Naomi gestures to a half circle of five other first-years, every one of them attractive and dressed in trendy clothes. “This is Mack, Theresa, Tati, Crystal, and Chris.”
I squirm, fighting to remember the already-forgotten first two names of the group.
“Don’t worry.” Charlie waves her drink at me. “You don’t have to remember all that.”
The entire group dissolves into conversation and laughter. I give Delia a smile, but she’s giving me a very guilty look.
“Sorry, Rose,” she says. “I’ve been sort of making eyes with the dude with the dangly earring at the very back of the bar. Would you mind if I…?”
I laugh. “Go,” I say sincerely. “If it doesn’t work out, you can come back and buy me a red wine.”
She smiles and brushes a quick kiss across my cheek, then slips away into the crowd.
I realize I’m running low on my mojito, so I tell the girls I need a refill and head to the bar.
The place is packed now, bodies pressing around me, and I’m waving my hands at the bartender, trying to get his attention, with no luck.
And that’s when I see him. On the other side of the bar. A flash of perfection: sharp cheekbones, tousled dark hair, piercing amethyst eyes.
Hayden.