WHERE TWO WORLDS COLLIDE…
THIRTY-EIGHT
TWO DAYS LATER
“Sounds like your rite was a hell of a lot easier than Victoria’s.”
“Shay,” I hiss.
Wynter pulls a face but her eyes trip off the makeup I’m using to cover the bruise Bordeau left me. It’s getting fainter—thank God—and the cut is a tiny scab now.
“Honestly, he’s right, Victoria. I had to stick to Derek Dyers's side for an evening and you—”
I scoff, “Sounds like purgatory to me.”
“Worth it in the end.”
“Oh?”
A smug smile dances on Wynter’s lips as Lex, one of the waitresses at Dopie’s Diner, drops off our drinks. She waits until we’ve all been served then leans forward.
“I kneed him in the balls.”
“Again?!”
Shay’s mouth drops open before his eyes narrow into slits. “You’ve done that twice? Huh? What did he do?”
“Got handsy.” She shrugs. “I showed him that I’m my father’s daughter.”
I press the back of my hand to my forehead. “Stop talking dirty, Wynter. I can’t handle it.”
She cackles. “Tell me about it. If he can still have kids after what I did to him, then Dad will be disappointed.”
“You got in some pincher action?”
“Ouch.” Shay fake moans, but he’s smiling.
“He deserved it.” A glimmer appears in her eye. “He’s an odd duck.”
“What do you mean?”
“This party we attended… it was swanky but weird. An auction.” The paper napkin in her hands disintegrates as she rips it to shreds. “Of sorts.”
That rings a bell. “Was it in Mt. Palisades?”
“You know the country club I’m talking about?”
“It’s where my second rite was. After the party ended.”
“Yeah, it was chaotic.”
“What happened?”
“People freaked out about finding a corpse in the pool,” she says wryly.
I wince. “Makes sense.”
“I know.” Her amusement fades. “There were a bunch of guys there that were Veronians. I recognized one—his kid lives in my building.”
“His kid?”
She points her fork at a table up front. “Denver Parilla.”
Shay hums. “Isn’t he a sports agent?”
“How the hell do you know that?” I demand.
“Hey, I take an interest in people too, you know. Anyway, she practically lives at the Pond.”
My nose wrinkles. “The where?”
“The Pond, Victoria. Where they play hockey games.”
“Ohhh. I wondered why you’ve never taken me there. You know I love fish.”
“You don’t like fish. You just don’t want to eat them.”
“Semantics! How did you know who he was, Wynter?”
“I watch basketball. Saw him with her and her brothers at a game over the summer. The commentators were discussing this massive deal he brokered. It made a record.” Wynter grabs her phone and passes it to Shay. “Recognize any of these guys?”
His brow lifts. “Yeah. A few.”
Impressed by her subterfuge, I fan my face. “Oh, my god, Wynter! Are you turning into 008 on me or something?”
“What’s 008?”
I scowl at Shay. “One after 007.”
“Why not?” Wynter reasons. “We have to figure out who’s who, don’t we?”
“Taking a picture was dangerous! Why did you think they were Veronians?”
“I asked Dyers.”
My lips quirk. “That’d do it. We trust him?”
“He was in show-off mode, so definitely.”
I turn to Shay, but before I can ask my directory of who’s who, Denver calls out, “Lex! Professor Maclean, hot as actual fuck, right?”
She whistles. “Hotter than actual fuck.”
“Wynter?” she prompts.
Cackling, Wynter blows on her fingers like they’re burning. “Even hotter than that. Shame his personality makes mass murderers look friendly.”
“Who’s that?” I inquire.
Lex places two Dopie breakfast specials on our table. “He’s a guest professor. Lives in France.”
“You know him, Vick.” Shay gags as I season my fries with pepper. “I’m not gay and I think he’s hot.”
“He can’t be that cute.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen him with Mrs. Maclean. She’s, like, the center of his world,” Lex coos before heading off to another table.
“Maclean’s the guy whose lecture you missed because the Rhos were dicking you around, right, Wynter?”
“Yup. He’s beautiful, I swear. Borderline dreamy.”
Shay, laughing, nods. “He is actually.”
“Kat’ll be getting jealous.” After elbowing me in the side, he shows me a picture on his phone. “Ohh, that’s him? Yeah, he’s hot. I’ve seen him around campus.”
“I had to miss out on eye candy for those idiots.” Wynter sniffles then gestures at her phone. “Know any names?”
Shay chows down a fry then points to one of the faces. “That guy there is Gideon Taylor-Wright.”
“Who?” Wynter asks.
“This hedge-fund fucker. He goes in and strips companies and sells them for parts.”
“Ohhh.”
He flicks a look at Lex. “Her dad.”
My lips purse. “Seriously?”
“Yep.” He taps another face. “That’s Denver’s father. He just signed Martin Gerard for Dad’s soccer team. One of the biggest contracts in US soccer history.”
“Snore.”
“You asked me!”
“I didn’t want boring details like that. Who else do you recognize?”
“I think that’s Ben Sanders’s father.”
“Ben Sanders as in the guy who was expelled last year?”
“Yeah. Michael, I think is his name. He used to run Veritas Infinitum with Brutus, Derek’s dad, before he sucked someone off in the Devere administration and became the general consul to the US Consulate in Edinburgh.
That’s when some other guy got involved…
Gah, what’s his name?” He rubs his forehead then clicks his fingers.
“Silas Vincent II. That’s it. I remember now.
Dyers is still a partner in the hedge fund though. ”
“Why do people bother with Roman numerals on names anymore?” Wynter complains.
“They’re grandstanding idiots.” I hold up my iced latte for her to tap. “How do you know those people anyway, Shay?”
“They’re at the Pond a lot.”
“That means they’re alumnae, right?”
“Yeah, definitely. They’re always at the homecoming games—”
“Always. Pfft. You’ve been here two years.”
“Well, that’s two times then.” He flips me the bird. “Don’t get crabby with me because that chick thought you were joking about the sex furniture.”
Wynter’s mouth pops open then snaps shut. “The what now?”
“The sex furniture. Furniture you have sex on. Why is this such a hard concept for people to understand? I’m telling you they’d get it in Europe.”
“Isn’t that just a… bed? The couch, maybe?”
“Firstly, ew. Unhygienic.”
A smile dances on her lips. “Which part?”
Shay chuckles. “She has you there, Vic.”
“I want to have sex with my husband. Is that a crime?”
“What is, how many times can a person talk about her husband in a day, Ken?” he jeers.
Wynter snickers. “I don’t think the having sex part is the crime, Victoria.”
“None of it is! Sex furniture is a thing!”
“Just not by designers who are still in college.”
“Explain?”
“There’s this woman in the art block who designs these crazy hot loungers that conform to your back. I asked her if she’d design and make me one with some adjustments and she flipped out!”
“Did she think you were teasing her?”
“I said I’d pay a hundred thousand dollars!”
“There you go. Sounds like a scam to me.”
“I told her the Mongolian cashmere I want to use is expensive. And promised her a deposit and an advance!”
“What’s her name?”
“Melia Dreyfus.”
“I know her. Wait a sec.” Lifting a hand, she hollers, “Juniper? Come here, would you?”
The other server on shift today saunters over in boss-ass heels that I gape at. “Hey, Wynter. Everything okay with your meal?”
“Oh, sure. It’s delicious as usual. Question: are you still dating Melly?”
Her brows waggle. “Damn straight. Four months now.”
“Neat! Congrats. Victoria, meet Juniper. Juniper, meet Victoria.”
Juniper arches a brow at me. “I know Victoria. We’re in anti-trust and IP together, plus the Heat N Go stuff.”
“Good! You’re going to convince Melly that Victoria isn’t crazy and that she does want to hire her to build some strange sex furniture—”
Juniper snorts. “You’re the weirdo with the blank check who wanted fucking furniture?!”
“It wasn’t blank. It was a hundred K,” I say with a pout. “Also, where did you get those shoes from?!”
Preening, she angles her feet this way and that to show off the suede boots with a chunky heel and rhinestone flames “Thrift store. Aren’t they boss? As for Melly, that’s pretty much a blank check. She’s not like us rich brats.”
Shay prods the air with a mayonnaise-coated fry. “Why are you working here if you’re rich?”
“Dad insists that I pay my own way. Says it’ll build character.
Mostly, I say it’s ruining my nails. But, I’ll talk to Melly.
She could use the money. Her scholarship covers jackshit, and she’s graduating in a couple years but none of the studios she’s tried to intern with have bitten. Leave it to me.”
I offer her a wide smile. “I appreciate that, Juniper.”
“No worries. You guys need anything else?”
“We’re good for now,” Wynter says cheerfully. “There you go. All set.”
I rub my hands together. “I have the best people in my life. One’s a rolodex of the most boring people in the state and the other knows who can fix my fuck furniture!”
Shay pshaws. “They’re only boring to you. They’re pretty important in the city.”
“Why?”
“Veritas Infinitum has clout. They recently bought this luxury apparel company an ex-football player started from the ground up after he retired… Maybe you know it? Bianchi?”
“They were worth billions,” I agree, having researched the deal since Maxim mentioned it.
Wynter gasps. “Bianchi?! They closed their doors this summer. I loved their yoga pants. They had some magic in them that never gave you a camel toe.”
I nod in complete agreement. “Magic, I tell you.”
“Didn’t need to know any of that,” Shay grumbles.
“Now you know how I feel when you start talking about the Constitution.”
He sniffs. “Veritas Infinitum bought Bianchi to sink it. The whole thing was messed up.”
Wynter and I share a look.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask softly.
“That the football player somehow got on the Veronians’ bad side? Yup. People have a habit of doing that…”
Shay grimaces. “I hate that you’re getting in deep with those fuckers. They sound like monsters. Covering up crimes, helping rapists evade justice, encouraging violence, destroying innocent people’s lives—”
“It’s a who’s who of Cuntsville,” I agree, but I kick him under the table. “It’s not like our fathers are innocent, Shay."