Chapter 33
Ophelia. Now.
To go, or not to go.
That is the question.
Today’s the day of the Seekers’ Club Valentine’s Day bash and even as I put on my makeup, I think: you can still back out of this.
On one hand, I love a party. I miss the club. I miss my friends. And I miss…
Phantom.
Seeing him last night…softer, tender, open and willing to imagine a future with me…
It rooted a seed of hope inside of me, a seed that I’m currently terrified to water.
What if I let it grow big again only to have him chop it down?
How many times can we do this dance?
I drown out the noise in my head with Olivia Rodrigo hits. My dresser is covered in setting powder and glitter. I look at myself in the mirror and battle my hair into submission with a curling iron. Phantom’s note mocks me in the corner of my mirror. Still, I don’t have the heart to take it down.
My curling iron has gone cold. I try a different outlet—nothing. Stupid old building.
“Dove!” I shout.
She’s in her room opposite mine, and she’s heavy-metaling her way through her makeup routine. “Yeah?”
“Can I borrow your curling iron?”
“I got you!”
Dressed in only my bra and panties, my hair half-curled, I exit my room to go to Dove’s and—
Man in the house!
I scream. Dorian screams. Spud gives a displeased “woof,” does a circle, and then flops back down like the useless protector he is.
“Jesus!” I snap. I grab a throw pillow off the couch and throw it at him. “Why are you always here? Don’t you have a…cat?”
From his position prone on the couch, Dorian lifts his hardback book, deflecting my pillow attack. It flops to the floor instead.
“A cat?” he repeats, like he doesn’t know the word.
“Your cat? Behemoth?”
“Oh, no.” He settles back in. “That’s the demon that runs my bookstore. Takes the form of a cat. Allows me to sell books as long as I spend my profit entirely on catnip.”
I wave my hand as though erasing him from my vision.
“I can’t deal with this right now—Dove! I’m coming in!
” I charge into her room and close the door behind me.
Dove is sitting on her bed, her makeup splayed out across her sheets, setting powder dusting everything.
So far, she’s decided on a pink bra and a green skirt, but that seems to be the end of her decision making.
She’s pressing on red nails, and she brightens up when I enter. “Hey!”
“Your man is in the living room. Doing things.”
She exhales a heavy sigh. “I know. Let him be. He needs enrichment.” She points her half-finished hand to her dresser. “Curling iron is…somewhere over there.”
I navigate my way through the clutter until I find her curling iron. I plug it and—eureka! Houston, we have power. As I tease my hair in front of her dresser, Dove asks, “So how’re you feeling about tonight?”
“Good.” Twist, twist, release. “Phantom and I are in like…a good neutral place.”
“Neutral? What does that mean?”
“I mean, we’re not back together. But we’re also not, not back together. He came over yesterday and we had a really good talk.”
“Talk, huh?”
“Okay. It was all very good. He just seems like he genuinely wants to get things back on track and…I don’t know. I’m open to it.”
In the mirror, I see Dove twist her mouth into a disapproving frown. “Just be sure he doesn’t like…Jedi mind-trick you back into a relationship.”
“Oh, he’s not the only one with tricks.”
“Go on…”
I pull away the iron and move beside Dove, bending down so I’m on her level. “Smell.”
She leans in and inhales. “Mmm. Oh, that’s tasty. What is it?”
“It’s this peach and vanilla scent. My secret weapon.” I straighten up and continue my hair routine. “When Phantom I were first seeing each other, I used to dab this perfume on my thighs before seeing him. Now it makes him feral when I wear it.”
Dove breaks into a laugh. “Okay, genius.”
I shrug, pleased with myself. “Two can play these mind games.”
Outside, I do a good job playing the role of cold, badass bitch. It’s a role I’ve played well over the years, and a role that feels like putting on a familiar, protective armor.
But inside, I’m screaming:
Want me.
Need me.
Need me the way I need you.
In the theme of Valentine’s, I’ve gone all red. I’ve picked a red jumpsuit that hugs my chest and hips and flares at the legs. I hook on hooped earrings and throw a fluffy, matching-red jacket over it and we’re ready to go. I am nothing if not dramatic, after all.
Dorian earns his keep by walking Spud and then the three of us hop on the train going uptown, into Harlem. Dorian and Dove are talking excitedly, cackling with each other, and I feel myself go inward. I close my eyes and let the train rock me, listening to the squeaks and screams of her wheels.
Okay, Ophelia. Your role for tonight. The previously humiliated, dethroned queen is back to retake her crown.
Your character has been burned, but she’s rising from the ashes well.
Spine straight. Chin up. Tits out. She holds herself with confidence.
She’s ready to make her king get on his knees and beg for forgiveness.
Why? Because of the second, secret motivation…
She’s ready to forgive him. If only he’d ask.
The train jerks and I open my eyes. We’ve arrived at our stop.
We exit the train, walk the few blocks to the Seekers’ Club, and…
strangest thing. The door, which is usually locked closed and protected with a password, has been propped open.
A warm, welcoming light seeps out onto the concrete stairs of the brownstone.
Inside, there’s the sound of easy music and familiar, welcoming voices and…
My heart flutters. I’m home.
I step inside. At the door, our doorman in a leather bondage suit and face mask extends his arms to take our coats.
“You know it’s a fancy party because we’ve got the doorman,” I comment. I hang my jacket over his arm. “Thank you, Zero.”
The good boy doesn’t respond, but I know there’s a happy expression behind the mask.
Even I have to admit, Phantom and Princess did a great job decorating. There are rose petals aplenty, which match well with the already gothic-feel of the brownstone. There’s a little paper-chain hearts dangling over the mantlepiece and I smile, running my finger over it, wondering if it’s Kira’s.
People are hanging around in the lounge, but the kitchen has been opened up as well. I can see a spread of finger food across the island. The wide study has been set up with pairs of chairs cuddled around little high-tops.
“Yo! O!” Carver waves us over. He’s standing with Jekyll, who’s wearing a smart pant suit, and Ginger in an adorable floral dress. I come over and accept his familiar embrace before hugging the two women as well.
“This is cute, right?” I say.
“You’ve gotta check out the food,” Carver says.
“They have penis popsicles!” Ginger stage-whispers excitedly.
“For eating?” Dorian chimes in. “Or…?”
“Or,” Dove agrees.
“Hey, will you hold this for a second?” Carver asks. He opens up his palm to me, revealing a little, candy-heart that says “Be Mine.”
I pluck it from his palm, pop it in my mouth, and crush it between my teeth with a wink.
He sucks in a breath. “Cold, O. Heartbreaker.”
“Takes one to know one, stud.”
I know it’s only been two weeks, but God, it feels good to be back with these people. My energy is returning, my confidence increasing. I glance around, but no sign of Phantom. Not yet. It is like him to be fashionably late to his own party.
Jekyll furrows her brow and looks over my shoulder. “Is that Trinity?”
I follow her gaze to a woman who just entered.
She’s a good-looking white woman in her forties, maybe fifties, with a blonde bob and a smart tan coat.
She startles briefly when she sees Zero, her hand flying to her chest, but then she laughs good naturedly and shrugs off her coat, handing it to him.
“Who?” Carver asks.
“Trinity,” Jekyll repeats. “She used to…come to the club. A long time ago.”
Her eyes flicker to me when she says it, almost apologetically. And—fuck. A bad feeling creeps up the back of my neck.
Trinity spies us. She waves at Jekyll, who waves back, and the woman comes and invades our tight circle. She embraces Jekyll, who gives her shoulder a squeeze.
“Trinity!” Jekyll says. “I haven’t seen you in ages. You look great.”
“Yes, well. I saw this event was open to the public, so I thought I’d show my face. See who was still around. Besides. Nothing like the ghosts of girlfriends’ past to shake up Valentine’s Day.”
Girlfriends past. She’s an ex. Fuck. She’s Phantom’s ex. Has to be. A sickening feeling in my stomach, like suddenly freefalling down a twenty-story drop.
Trinity’s eyes flicker across the group. Carver steps up first, introducing himself, taking her hand, the tactile bastard. Then Ginger herself, and Dove. Trinity’s eyes fall to Dorian. “And Poe. I remember you, of course. Still masking your emotions with a caustic sense of humor?”
“Still an asshole,” Dorian agrees, “but don’t call me Poe. It’s Dorian, now.”
“Dorian. The man in love with his image, correct? Fitting.”
“What’s not to love?” Dorian gives her a sharp smile.
I’m sensing tension between the two. Dorian doesn’t like her, but Dorian doesn’t like anyone. Jekyll seems to like her, so that gives Trinity some street cred. Phantom clearly liked her, so…
I can’t be the jealous bitch. I have to be the better woman.
The better submissive.
I have to win.
Trinity turns her attention away from Dorian and fixes her eyes on me, the last in the group. “You’re new,” she says.
New? I want to scream. New? I turned this house into a home. I built this community from the ground up, bitch—
“I’ve been coming here for three years,” I tell her, keeping my voice tamed. “But, sure, I guess it’s all relative.”
“Is that right?” Her blue eyes sweep over me. “You’re so young! You don’t look like you were even twenty-one two years ago.”
“The power of moisturizer,” I say with a smile, when what I really want to say is: fuck off. I see the game you’re playing.