Vicious Boys by Nora Cobb
Chapter Five
Vicki
On Monday morning, I wear my largest sunglasses and continue to wear them the rest of the week. Luckily, spring break is coming up, and I have no plans. In fact, most of the senior class has no plans. Vacations or mega-parties are put on hold until after graduation, if you graduate. Our final projects will have an impact on our future careers, so school isn’t just something to endure until graduation. It isn’t simply pass or fail. Sure, there are smaller parties and getaways booked, but everyone is putting their nose down and getting serious about work.
My film project has hit a couple of minor snags. I decide to do a documentary on plant therapy and its therapeutic benefits, especially for breaking addiction. It isn’t groundbreaking or flashy, but it’s what I know. Luna was supposed to be my star, but we’re barely speaking beyond hello and excuse me. Instead I use a voiceover, and despite that, it looks professional
The week is dragging over that hump. Walking toward film studies, I slow down my steps as I see Rosemonde standing in front of the main door, cackling with her cronies. She holds her hand up in a pretentious manner as she waves the student paper around. Our gazes meet, and her smile widens. She stops with the gestures all over the place, and gradually her coven glances over to look at me.
“It was a fun party, but I left early,” she says loudly, “So I didn’t see anything, but I heard about it later.” Rosemonde smiles as I try to pass her.
“Excuse me, you’re in front of the door,” I tell her.
Rosemonde looks at me as if she’s the cat, and I’m the mouse caught in a trap. “Victoria, what did you think of the party over the weekend?” she smirks as her fake eyebrows rise high on her forehead.
“I think you need to move,” I snap back, “I’m not in the mood for you today.”
“You must be tired.” She unfolds the paper in her hand. “Have you seen the student paper? You may want to before class.”
I want to know what in the hell is making her gloat, but I also don’t want to accept anything from her. My hand hovers for a moment, and then I snatch the paper out of her hands.
“Turn to the Misery column,” she calls after me. “You may receive some helpful advice.”
There’s a peal of laughter as I enter the building. I sit down in the back of the class; we still have five minutes. Mr. Carroll is up front, setting up the projector and talking to one of the students. I’d like to listen in on their conversation. Mr. Carroll is like a wiki that’s been fact-checked.
The pages rustle as I quickly turn to the Misery column. This first letter is about some girl undecided on her career path and advised to learn a skill in another field. The next letter is roommate woes. It doesn’t sound like Luna and me. But the third letter sends chills over my skin as I start to read it.
Dear Misery,
I finally gave myself to a special boy who promised to make me a star. I’m hopeful that doing it will lead to bigger things. But I’m afraid he’s only put me in an awkward position. And I don’t know what the outcome will be. Should I continue to suck it up?
yours truly,
Ms. Nasty.
Dear Ms. Nasty,
You should sleep on it. Alone.
Crushing the paper in my hands, I shove it into my bag, and slink down into my seat. I don’t care if it looks like I’m hiding, because I am. Everyone must know about my sex life because when people see me, they smirk. Of course Dom would tell Silas. And the way Chase approached me at the party? That must have been a power play. I’m still their toy.
Silas walks into the auditorium right before the bell. He glances over at me for a split second. He probably is wondering why I’m not hiding underneath the seat. I would if the floor were cleaner. He scowls as he continues down the aisle toward the front row. Rosemonde is in all her glory as she looks up at him, smiling, and then she pats the seat beside her.
Oh. I hold my breath. I may have fucked up, but I know better than to do that. Silas is not a lapdog led about on a lead and tempted with some treats. He won’t be wrapped around a slim finger and beckoned to come when called. Silas turns his back on Rosemonde, and she watches as he walks back up the aisle. Silas stops by my row, and I cringe. I don’t mean to, but I don’t want him by me today. Well, guess what? That’s where he wants to sit. It’s like a cat that chooses to sit on the lap of the person in the room who’s allergic. Rosemonde and I are on the opposite sides of the scale. And Silas is in the mood for me.
It’s not a compliment.
He sits down next to me, and I pull myself into an upright position. The few people who weren’t looking at us are now.
“Well, is everyone settled in their seats?” Mr. Carroll loves being rhetorical. “Good. Today we will be watching The Great Gatsby. And not the remake. It is the tale of the rise and fall of the American Dream.” Mr. Carroll eyes us, and then his gaze flickers across a tight-lipped Rosemonde.
“Why are you sitting back here?” I whisper as the film starts. The loud intro drowns out my voice.
Silas shakes his head. Now’s not the time to talk. We settle into watching the movie, and I’m mesmerized by the old-time actors on the screen. They had a look back then. I glance over at Silas, and he has that look too. The impossibly gorgeous look that one doesn’t see much of today. When I wore the types of clothes he liked, I sort of had that look. Rosemonde, as much as I can’t stand her, has that look. I continue staring at him, and I’m not even sure if he’s aware of it until his jaw twitches. He continues to stare straight ahead, absorbed by Robert Redford on the screen. Silas could be in this film; he could play that role.
I look over at him again, his classical profile, high cheekbones, and his brow that looks like he’s deep in thought. I get it now. Real life is for the rest of us. Silas stars in his own life, and we make up the cast.
Class ends, and I’m thankfully forgotten. Silas waits for me as I get my stuff together, and we head out of the building. In my mind, I pretend I’m Mia Farrow with her fancy hat, and he holds the door for me as I step outside. I wonder why he’s not upset over Dom or even Chase.
We walk along in silence. And it’s slowly driving me mad. “Can I ask you a question?” My voice rises up to a high-pitched squeak.
He nods slightly.
“Do you know anything about conservatorships?”
His jaw twitches. “Why do you want to know about that?”
I won’t tell him the real reason. So, I stammer a little, trying to come up with an excuse as to why I would want to know.
“Did you read it somewhere?” he asks when I don’t answer.
“Maybe, but it’s more personal than that. I’m asking for a friend but not for anyone here.”
He glances over at me and then continues walking straight ahead. His jaw moves again as if he might be grinding his teeth. I struck a nerve, but if I tell him the truth, it will be in the next student paper.
“I’m not prying into whatever you might think I’m prying into,” I reply to his thoughts, “I really need to know, and you know a lot about legal stuff because you act. And you must know people…”
He cuts me off. “You never want to be involved in that shit.” Silas continues walking straight ahead as if he has blinders on. I can barely keep up with his long strides across campus. He ignores the path and walks across the grass toward the townhouses.
“It’s a messy entanglement in which someone is legally allowed to own you because they’ve convinced the courts you are less than an adult,” he says eventually.
“Even if you’re over eighteen?” I ask.
He frowns and makes eye contact. “Are you asking for yourself?”
I freeze. “I just want to know. So don’t print it in your paper.”
“I don’t have time to edit the paper anymore,” he replies, “Rosemonde’s been doing it lately. What’s up with your friend Theo?”
“What do you mean?” I’m confused.
“He’s not the person you’re talking about?” he asks. I shake my head.
I look over, and we’re already standing in front of the town house. How fast did we walk? I wait for us to walk up the stairs together, but Silas just stands there, not really speaking. He stares off into the distance, and I turn, wondering if he’s seen something of interest. Nothing there’s but trees and the blue sky above them.
“We can’t be together,” he says suddenly.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, bewildered.
“Our arrangement it’s over.”
“How can it be over when we were never together?” I quip.
“Well, it is over,” he says. “I can’t be seen with you anymore. I’m officially breaking up with you.”
His expression is hard as he stares down his perfect nose at me as if I’m worthless. A lump forms in my throat, and I don’t know why this is bothering me as much as it does. Silas continues to watch me cautiously as if I might go off. I expect him to sneer at me, but his eyes show a look of disappointment. It makes my shoulders slump to see that look of reproach.
“I’m sorry, Vicki, but this was a poor choice on both our parts.”
“That’s smooth and very professional,” I reply.
“We had an agreement, but I can hardly have a relationship with a woman that’s not very selective.”
“Maybe Rosemonde will do a better job?” I ask sweetly.
“She knows exactly what she wants,” he replies as if I was serious, “I gave you a chance, and you didn’t want it. Instead you chose badly. And about that conservatorship, I would fight that tooth and nail if I were you. It’s nearly impossible to gain back control once you’re in it. Don’t believe me? Go ask Britney Spears; she’s been locked in one for the last twelve years.”
The iciness of his voice turns my stomach. He looks at me quickly, turns away, and hurries up the stairs.
But can I blame him? Maybe I wasn’t exactly sure of where I stood, but I guess after that photo, he’s distancing himself from me and a brewing scandal. I look up the stairwell and don’t even want to go into my suite. Luna’s been cold-shouldering me since her party. I sigh, thinking back to how easily I fucked up. I can’t even blame it on alcohol, and I would be even more ashamed if I could.
I walk through the hallway past the studio toward the parking lot. I dig in my purse for my car keys. I know they’re in there as I push my phone and my makeup case off to the side. I look in and see everything but my keys. I toss the paper onto the ground and start digging again. Finally, I rest my bag on the hood of my car while I dig.
“Can’t find your keys?”
Dom is leaning against the hood on the driver’s side of my car. He has his arms folded, and a pair of mirror shades conceal his eyes. He’s wearing his board shorts again and will probably only wear shorts until graduation. He has a silly grin on his face as if we should be friends. It’s taking an amazing amount of willpower not to lash out.
“You didn’t keep your promise again.” I imitate Silas’ cool tone.
He shifts his posture against the car. “People aren’t stupid. They were going to find out.”
I bend down and pick up the paper, smoothing out the page. “Should I read this out loud?”
Dom rises off my car and tries to take the paper from me. But I step back quickly as I read it out loud. “I’m hopeful that doing it will lead to bigger things. But I’m afraid he’s only put me in an awkward position. And I don’t know what the outcome will be. Should I continue to suck it up?” I smirk, but I’m not happy. “Plenty of innuendos that even a child could guess about.”
“Vicki, I told you. I didn’t tell to embarrass you.”
“Did you brag about it, Dom?” I ask. “Did you describe what I looked like naked and moaning? Did you act it out for your little friends?” His expression hardens as I taunt him in a low, mocking voice. I refuse to have a reaction that he can turn on me. I refuse to act like it meant more than a good fuck.
He grabs my wrist and squeezes it until the paper falls out of my hand, onto the ground. “You don’t mean that,” he says, “Stop playing me. I made it clear that you’re mine. I made the decision for you.”
“Like a piece of property. Do you think telling your friends I’m a slut will keep them away? It didn’t keep Chase away. He knew I enjoyed it because you told him.”
Dom yanks my arm hard; my flesh turns red around his fingers, and I have to grab his wrist to stop him from leaving a bruise.
“Take your fucking hands off me,” I hiss, “and don’t touch me again.”
Dom pins my hips to the car and holds me against the metal with little effort. Grunting, I struggle underneath him as he stands perfectly still, watching me. I refuse to lash out. I refuse to strike him. I refuse to make another scene. I stop squirming. My hair has fallen over my eyes, and I watch him intently, not saying a word. Every hateful thought I can think of goes into that look, and it unnerves him as I feel him slowly ease up.
He steps away, and I push the hair out of my eyes. My Malibu boy is gone for good. I’ll never trust him if he shows up again.
“Listen,” my voice is normal, as if I’m talking about an article on the internet. “I won’t do this with you. You need to stop acting like you play too many video games and learn how to treat people right in real life.”
Dom’s expression shifts as the hardness leaves his gaze, and he stares into mine. He breathes out slowly and shakes his head as if he wants to shake a thought out of it. I wonder if something I said reminded him of Mel or Hillary.
