Vicious Boys by Nora Cobb
Chapter Eight
Vicki
Silas doesn’t stick around long after Chase leaves. I scoff at my stupidity. Silly, stupid me expected a fistfight over my heart. Instead it was a power struggle. But for what? I still don’t get it. And I especially don’t get the looks. I have seen the look in their eyes when they’re alone with me; not only when we’re fooling around, but when we’re just bullshitting about nothing.
They look like they really care. Like we connect. They act like they really like me. Maybe they do, and this is a macho thing. They can possess me, but being in love means they’re weak and fucked.
I got a text from Jagan’s office. Rudi must have sent his text because there’s a smile emoji after the words “Come see me.” I guess it’s meant to be nonthreatening. Whatever the hell it is, I have to go. Smiley face or middle finger, I’ve got to go.
I arrive twenty minutes early, and I don’t feel like going inside and waiting in the admins’ office. I go around the side of the building and sit on the grass. I could be productive, but my mind is starting to rebel from the lack of downtime. We’ve started rehearsing the scenes for the film festival, and since I’m working with two groups, I have double the work. Plus my own film
I don’t mind the work; in fact, I enjoy it a lot, and I’m relieved that I made the right decision to study film in Southern California. I lie back on the grass and stick my tongue out like an animal. I just need a moment of nothingness.
Two feet step next to my head, and I jerk myself upright. I recognize those cheap shoes. Marcy stands over me with her hands on her hips and a nasty scowl on her lips. I roll onto my side and get up quickly. She doesn’t touch me, but she takes a step forward like she wants to.
“What the fuck do you want?” I talk low and tough.
She shakes her head as if I’m the crazy one. “Well, it seems that neither one of us can hold onto Chase. He’s already moved on, it seems.”
My eyes pop, and she notices. “Yes, he’s talking to other girls and letting it be known that he’s looking. But not looking for you or me.”
“Why should you be so happy about that?”
“He may not be with me, but at least he’s not with you either.”
I don’t think she would’ve been anyone’s prize with that catty-ass attitude. I hoist my book bag onto my shoulder. And I wonder about the conversation I heard and how Marcy fits into it. I don’t have enough time to be clever and wheedle it out of her, so I just ask.
“What the fuck is going on with you? Why are you dating an eighteen-year-old? Yes, he’s hot, but what the fuck, lady? Like, I’ll admit you’re not bad looking, and I had respect for your work until I found out your secret. What’s in it for you? Because no one is going to believe that it’s love.”
Marcy stares at me with wide eyes as if she’s shocked by her own truth. It looks like I got it right, and I seriously would like to know. The sincerity in my expression must show as she relaxes her face and sizes me up.
“I used to date Chase’s dad,” she says. “The boy can’t hold a candle to the man, and I got good taste. I resisted at first because he was married. And that’s a dead end, especially with a first marriage. Chances are they don’t have a prenup. But he kept on showing up at my apartment, taking me out to lunch with his powerful friends. He even got me that slot at Sundance. I was so convinced that he was going to leave his wife for me. She was having affairs too, but when I thought I was pregnant, he left, and in the morning, his attorney showed up to pay me off.”
“Did you have his baby?” Because if you did, lady, that’s all sorts of fucked up.
She shakes her head. “It was a false alarm. But it didn’t matter. I was clingy, and we were just having fun. He would never leave his wife. One excuse after another—first it was the open marriage, then his wife’s passes for him, on and on and on—and slowly, the doors that had been open to me were slammed shut.
“It was a fluke that I ended up here at Redwood,” Marcy continues. “I decided to get back on track and focus on my career again. This was just a minor setback. It was a minor setback that had wasted years. And then, one day, I’m walking across campus, and I see a familiar face. For a brief moment, I thought he hadn’t aged a day. But then I realize it’s not him; it’s his son Chase. The toddler I used to bounce on my knee is now a grown man.”
The look on Marcy’s face makes my skin crawl until I shudder. It’s as if hatred has taken possession of her spirit.
“But it’s not Chase’s fault,” I reply.
“They owe me.” Marcy snarls. “That whole family owes me. I wasted years on that prick, and when he was done, he got rid of me. No one would hire me because I was his ex-lover. They were afraid that they wouldn’t get the actors they wanted for their films if I was on set. I couldn’t even walk onto a shoot with a cup of coffee. He wasted my time, destroyed my career, and I’m going to teach him a lesson about fucking me over.”
I inhale sharply as I grip my bag. Fuck this shit; this bitch is crazy. I don’t even try to make an excuse. I turn tail and run. My bag bounces off my hip as I tear across the lawn toward the student center. I guess it would’ve made more sense to run in the admins’ building, but I am fucking scared. The look in her eyes is terrifying. I know that look—the unblinking, intense stare of nothing but unwavering rage and hate—from rehab when they’d let us leave our room for meals or to exercise.
I run faster, not looking back until I am inside the glass doors of the center. Holy fuck. I’m winded as I lean my head against the wall. I stand up and look around and start searching. I walk from room to room, looking at every face, but I don’t see him. I go to every screening room and open every door. I don’t know why I’m convinced he’s here, but I find him. I find Chase.
He’s sitting alone in the food court, picking the broccoli out of a rice bowl. I hurry over to his table and slam my hands down on it, panting to catch my breath. He looks surprised to see me, and then not happy that I’m there. He starts picking at his food again.
I lower my voice. “Chase, I have to talk to you about Marcy.”
He looks at me and sighs. “It’s over, Vicki. You wanted it over, and now it’s over.”
I lean in close and whisper, “I need to talk to you alone.”
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”
“Chase.” My voice cracks.
“You made me wait for nothing.” He glares at me. “And now you can wait for nothing.”
He grabs his bag and gets up from his seat, leaving his food on the table. My phone buzzes. It’s a reminder, telling me I’m late for my appointment with Jagan. I’m not sure what to do as I watch Chase walk toward the screening room. My phone buzzes again, and I better go see Jagan.
***
I go straight into his office and plop myself onto his couch. I’m sweaty, but I don’t notice until the central air chills my skin. My head rests back on the pillow, and Jagan gives me a strange look as he shuts the office door. He doesn’t ask this time. He walks over to the minibar and gives me an ice-cold water.
“I didn’t think it was that hot outside,” he frowns.
“It’s not,” I pant as I open the bottle, “I ran here.”
He smiles. “It’s okay if you walk next time. And I have good news for you. You’re off probation.”
I take a sip of water before replying. “That’s good. Do I have to come back here anymore? No offense.”
He waves his hand dismissively while he sits on the opposite couch and crosses his legs. “No ego to bruise. But your grades are not so good.”
I sit up straight. “I’ll graduate.”
He makes a face as he tilts his hand back and forth in the air. “Maybe if you don’t go any lower. You’re doing well in your creative classwork, but the academic? You want to be able to read a script.” Jagan laughs at his joke, but I don’t.
“So what am I going to do?” I ask.
“Most students study when their grades slip,” he replies.
I sigh. “Some days I just wish you would drop the bullshit. I saw that glint in your eye when you asked Dad for a contribution.”
“It all goes to the school,” he states firmly.
“I’m not saying it doesn’t,” I backpedal a little. “Redwood has the coffers to attract the best talent—students, judges, teachers, festivals. You can afford to host the best at Redwood. You must have quite the list.”
Jagan leans back on the couch and spreads his arms out wide along the back of it. “I do have a list. But you have to get your grades up if you want to be on it.”
“You mean…” I stare at him. “I could have talked to you the whole time?”
“The Wizard was always right here, Dorothy.” He smiles. “Vicki, you’re a smart person, but you’re also a little wild. I’m waiting to see if you can gain control of that character flaw.”
I press my lips together as I glance away. “I’m trying,” I reply, “But if you knew the shit that I know…”
He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I probably already do. May I offer you some advice?”
“Seriously, I would welcome it.”
“Your vision of your life has been divided. There’s a part here and over there and right here.” Jagan motions his hands in three separate gestures to indicate three separate parts. “You need to follow your vision and bring those three parts together. Take some time and envision the bigger picture when you leave this place. I see many smart, talented women choose a man over an opportunity. If the guy is worth waiting for, he’ll wait. And if he doesn’t, find another. You have more to offer than they want you to know. And you won’t succeed on your own as long as you’re kept off balance.”
***
My head hurts when I leave Jagan’s office. He’s not wrong. I’ve been focusing on film and doing the bare minimum in my other core classes. It’s been noticed. But my thoughts go back to what he said before I left. I have more, and they know it, so they are keeping me off-balance. Like Marcy years ago?
A part of me is confused, but another part is smart enough to listen. Still, that moment with Marcy scared me. If Chase won’t accept my help, maybe he’ll let someone else help. Chase and I were close, but some shit got in the way. It’s hard not to care when I think of the brave things he did when he could have just ignored me.
I sigh. Trouble is I’m not speaking to Dom, so Silas might be my only choice. I head over to his suite, not bothering to stop at mine first. He opens the door before I ring the bell. “We have to talk.” I drop my bag on the couch.
“Come in.” He shuts the door.
“Is Rhys here?” I ask, looking around. “Or Theo?”
Silas sits on the couch beside me. “Nope. It seems that he and Theo are spending more time together.”
I lift my brows, but who am I to question Theo’s life decisions? “I have to tell you something, and you have to promise that you won’t tell.”
Silas looks at me. “It depends on what you’re about to say.”
“That’s not fair. You have to promise.” I sigh in frustration. “That day at my house, when Chase showed up, you could have punched him, but you didn’t.”
“I wanted to, but, well, I had to check myself.” Silas looks at me. “Were you disappointed that we didn’t fight over you?”
“Don’t be like that,” I scowl, “So it’s safe for me to assume you’re good friends despite the drama.”
Silas’ gaze shifts to the left. “We grew up together, and there’s a bond that’s impossible to break.”
I frown, not sure if I trust what he’s saying to me. “I grew up with my mother, and I wouldn’t call us close.”
He presses his lips together. “Okay, we might have issues, but when things get shitty, we put it aside. But things haven’t gone sour yet.” Silas’ eyes go dark as he stares off into his thoughts.
I wonder where he just went and how bad “shitty” is. My shoulders shake, but I plow through. “You know he’s dating Marcy?”
Silas sighs. “I thought he was just fucking her.”
“You know what? Forget it.” I move to stand up, but Silas pulls me back down to the couch. I sit there a moment, debating on if I’m better off trying to talk to Chase again. But what if we’re alone and things get out of hand again? I’ll have to say no.
I take a deep breath. “Okay. She used to date his dad. And she knows Chase is his son.”
Silas leans back and rubs his eyes. He’s a good actor, but the look of shock on his face looks genuine. He opens them again when I place my hand on his thigh.
“Did you know about the dad?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “This is bad, and you have to tell him.”
Silas blows out a puff of air. “Sure. He’s not going to want to hear it, but I’ll tell him.”
A noise comes from down the hallway, and Rhys’ bedroom door opens. Talia walks out. I stare at her as if she has the ability to teleport. Then I look again at Silas; he waves his hand dismissively in her direction. Talia is dressed, but her hair looks like it needs to be combed. I look down the hallway again, wondering if she was with Rhys.
“I thought we were alone?” I ask him.
“Nice to see you too, Vicki.” Talia frowns at me. “It’s been a while.”
“Sorry,” I reply calmly, “I didn’t mean anything by it. You know that.”
“How was Luna’s party?” she asks, “I heard it ended early.”
I grab my bag off the couch and stand up to leave. “Nice seeing you, Talia. You should stop by sometime.”
She nods. But I don’t expect to see her anytime soon.
***
The next day, I grab my stuff and hurry off to English class, determined to improve my grade. My phone buzzes as I run down the stairs of the town house, and it buzzes again as I hurry across the green. It keeps buzzing until I get to class. It’s early, so I decide to peek at it before I shut it off. The number is withheld, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it’s from.
Marcy: You little bitch.
Marcy: You had to tell.
How does she know I told Silas? I recall everything I said to him, and then it occurs to me. I swipe the screen and bring up the alternative thread. I haven’t checked it much since Theo decided to distance himself from it. Talia has started various online wars with her commentary on unjust behavior. She has little proof, but it doesn’t stop her from pointing a finger at the people she thinks are entitled. I scroll down the threads until my finger stops on one.
Omigod, she didn’t. It’s a blind item, but it’s not clever like the Misery column. Some nutty kids actually want to be in that. This thread is just cruel, and people are allowed to leave comments. The item is about a tall, dark, handsome boy who chases after girls, but he prefers to be taught the birds and bees by his daddy’s ex-lover.
Shit, how could she?
“Vicki,” my teacher frowns, and I slip my phone into my bag. Class has started. It doesn’t matter if I put it away or not. I can’t hear a word he says.
