sleep.’ Not ‘cried myself to hang out with drunks.’
I’ve learned that I’m not good at small talk. So that’s why I sat quietly, beside Mandy as she joined in periodically with Tristan’s conversation. Note that I called it Tristan’s conversation, because it literally was. Brent had his hand on her thigh and he was listening to Tristan. Not Mandy. Not Erin. But neither seemed to care. Tristan would laugh at whatever they said, but she’d turn right back to the basketball player.
This went on for twenty minutes, then I got bored.
Something—maybe the bitch inside of me—was compelled to ask loudly, “Hey, Aidrian.”
It was deathly silent.
Aidrian turned her glaring eyes my way, and waited.
“Didn’t Amber Lancaster go off on you last week? Something about wearing her skirt? I saw at least two girls wearing my shirt tonight. What kind of psycho does that?”
Mandy sucked in her breath, staring at me in horror. She knew exactly what I had just done. I knew it really wasn’t the skirt Amber had been pissed about. It had been over Brent Garrett—the guy who was now salivating all over Tristan.
Her eyes narrowed and Aidrian replied, “A bitch like that does. And it was my skirt.” But her eyes had switched to Brent. Everyone heard what wasn’t said: ‘it was my guy’
Tristan was the only one left clueless, but she was smart enough to realize something in the atmosphere had just changed, because she sat up straighter and looked confused to Erin and Mandy. Both girls avoided her glance.
“Hey, Brent,” Aidrian started huskily as she moved just behind him on the couch, “we never did go and get that drink we talked about.” She casually touched him on the shoulder.
And then Tristan got it. Well, not my part, but she sent a heated glare at Aidrian. She masked it miraculously when Brent glanced at her, caught in the headlights of both females.
“Uh, yeah, we didn’t,” he mumbled warily, watching Tristan’s reaction.
“Brent,” Tristan soothed, sitting closer, “remember that time at Crystal Bay last year, when you tripped and fell into the water.” She giggled. “You looked so adorable, but you had that drink all over you.”
“Yeah.” The guy seemed a little bit scared now, but still interested where this might lead. Just the fact that he’s a guy, he was probably thinking: Threesome!
“And remember what else happened that night?” Tristan asked, her voice nails-on-a-chalkboard sweet.
“Uh—” The guy gulped. I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
I was interested to find out what happened that night.
“Maybe we should do that again sometime,” Tristan suggested, looking demure and sexy at the same time.
“Uh,” Brent grinned wolfishly, “yeah, I think we should too.”
“Brent, honey.” Aidrian sent her own seductive smile his way, her fingers moved to his neck and massaged. “Do me a favor? Get me a drink?” She held out her empty cup.
I kind of felt a little sorry for the guy. He didn’t know what to do: Tristan or Aidrian.
Oh the life, huh.
“You can get me one too.” Tristan answered his dilemma.
“Sure. Sure.” His head bobbed up and down, standing up, he murmured, “I’ll be right back.”
When he left, I saw the two girls turn and glare at each other. Tristan stood up slowly, but Aidrian didn’t back down. The only barrier between them was the couch. There was such a contrast between them.
Aidrian looked the equivalent of white trash, but there was an extra flare in her attitude; the way she held herself—strong and tall. She was wearing the stereotypical mini-skirt, the ends frayed, a halter-top that ended just above her mid-riff, large hoop earrings, fake eyelashes, and glittery lipstick completed her outfit.
Oh no, after a more thorough look, I saw the twinkle in her eyes when she looked at me. She knew what I’d done. She knew full well, but I saw the territorial bitch in her. Tristan was poaching and it was Aidrian’s duty to send her packing.
Then there was Tristan. She wore a white, sleek tank top that wrapped itself around her—not the other way around—and crisp white trousers. Rich, stuck-up snob rolled off her. As she stood there on the patio, she looked like the embodiment of class.
Crystal and her friend had taken root behind Aidrian with Erin and Mandy behind Tristan. They looked like they were facing off in a hockey match. The only thing missing was the puck, hockey sticks, the ref, and all the other hockey gear. Never mind.
My work here was done, so I slipped out.
“Hey, girl.” An arm found its way around my shoulders and pulled me close to a chest.
Rooters.
“Hey,” I replied. “What’s up?”
He was standing with Honey, Bit, and Aaron. Just behind them, I saw Helms and Mitch with some girls from Pedlam on their laps. Helms and Mitch looked to be loving it.
“Where’d you come from?”
“Patio.”
“Who’s out there?”
“No one, it’s why I left,” I said gracefully, shrugging.
“So, we’re thinking of finding some fun Pedlam folks for a game of P & A. What do you say?”
“A card game?”
“Fuck yeah. There’s two empty tables. Come on,” he said coaxingly, giving my shoulders a squeeze.
What the hell.
“Sure.” I replied, but my cup was empty. I held it up and said, “I gotta fill my cup first but, yeah, I’m in.
Honey and Bit smiled widely. I could see the eager looks in their eyes. I liked them, I really did. They were there for Mandy, which would always place ‘em in a good spot with me. But they were wannabes.
It made me a bit wary around them. Not because I thought they’d stab me in the back, but because they weren’t totally trustworthy. They’d never had to prove that they could be. Yeah, Honey came clean with Bit, but she still slept with Bryce when she knew Bit wanted him.
That didn’t show a backbone for trust.
“Great! We’re in the corner. Haul your cute ass over when you’re done.” Rooters gave me one more squeeze before taking off in the opposite direction.
“You want someone to come with?” Honey offered.
“Uh, no. I got it.” I gave her a small smile and moved through the crowd.
I didn’t run into Tray as I made the trek to the keg. That’s what it was too—a trek. People were everywhere and you never knew what to expect when you turned a corner. I was already on guard—Gentley was here somewhere and I was still nervous about running into Brian or Grayley.
I ended up having to circle the entire dance floor to make it to the corner where they set up the card game.
They’d gotten a few more Pedlam students to join the game by the time I got back to them.
Rooters waved me over. “Come on, Taryn. You can sit here.” He gestured to the empty seat beside him.
That made me pause. The guy was obviously the leader of this little bunch. Chances of an empty seat next to him were just—stupid and because I’m not a trusting person, I wondered what game he was playing.
I sat anyway. I figured I could handle anything he slung my way.
“Hey, Taryn,” Casey Juanke, a student from Pedlam, said. He was from Gentley’s crew, but he wasn’t that bad of a guy, or at least, I didn’t think so.
“Hey, Case,” I said easily, picking up the cards Rooter had dealt. “How goes it in Pedlam?”
He shrugged, looking over his hand. “Ah, it goes, you know? Not as much excitement without you and Brian in the hallways.”
I grinned at that one. “Hi, Booth,” I remarked to another guy that I recognized that was sitting with us. There was a girl with them, but I didn’t know who she was.
“This is Caitlyn,” Booth introduced her, nudging her with his arm. “She’s new so she doesn’t know your ‘legendary’ reputation.”
“As what?” I laughed. “School bitch?”
Casey and Booth chuckled. “Maybe.??
?
The game proceeded with a mixture of small talk and banter between the Pedlam students and Rawley students. I was reminded why I always thought Casey was a good guy. He didn’t cheat and every taunt he sent out was given in a respectful manner. You knew he was just a good guy. Booth was the quiet one of their little clan. But when he spoke, whatever he had to say was hilarious.
The girl, Caitlyn, was in love with Booth. If I hadn’t have gotten the bitch out of me earlier with Aidrian and Tristan—which was totally heartless and manipulative—she would have annoyed me. She was just too quiet and almost worshipped Booth. She’s barely spoken two words to me since we met, but she may have just been scared of me. I was okay with that. “Dude, your phone,” Booth complained, hitting Casey on his arm.
“Oh.” Casey grabbed his cell up and answered, “Yeah, dude…nah, nah…we’re playing Prez and Ass in the corner…yeah, you know the one.”
“Crisp?” Booth asked.
I froze, my hand in mid-reach to place my two on the pile.
Crispin Gentley.
“Oh, fuck—” Oh yeah, Booth and Casey remembered, a little too late, my relationship with Gentley. I saw their eyes were on me, a look of alarm in both.
I set my card down and leaned back in my chair. Crossing my arms, I asked coolly, “So did he already get his ‘package’ or does he still have to do that?”
“Uh—” Casey was at a loss for words.
“Maybe you should—” Booth started.
“What?” I snapped, suddenly pissed off. “Run? Hide? Fuck no.”
The decision was taken out of our hands anyway. Crispin pushed his way through the crowd, to the table. “Fuck, could you guys pick a fucking table more in the back?” he complained, not even looking at who was at the table.
My eyes were fixated on him, but he was looking over the dance floor.
“Let’s go, fuckers.” He kicked Casey’s seat, but he finally noticed something was off. His eyes trailed over Casey and Booth, then followed their gazes—to me. “Oh,” he murmured, straightening up, “it’s the Rosette Bitch.”
“It’s Matthews now,” I clipped out, glaring at him with hate filled eyes.
“Whatever, you’re still a bitch.” Gentley laughed a mocking laugh. “You’re not protected tonight. Why? Evans get tired of you? I would, I know that.”
“You’re just bitter because you never got a taste.” I was tired of being twisted into a fucking sex toy. “But then again, why would you? I remember you really liking the confines of that closet.”
“Oh, no, you fucking didn’t.” He laughed harshly.
I stood up. “It’s tiring, really. You always have to play the ‘slut’ card because you’re not able to come up with new material, but that’s okay. I saw your WAIS-II scores. You’re not capable of higher mental functioning. Maybe I should just pat you on the head every time you use the same insult.”
So I walked over and patted him on the head.
“That’s a good boy. Go for something intelligent this time.” I grinned, cockily, but I saw he was seething.
Gentley grasped my arm in a painful grip and yanked me behind him, dragging me away from the table.
“Let go of me, asshole.” I was the one seething now, braking my feet, but Gentley didn’t even notice. He just pulled me behind him until we were out the door. Once outside, he slammed the door shut, effectively cutting out anyone who’d followed. Which had been everyone. I caught a glimpse of Rooters raising his cellphone, but then Gentley was addressing a few who were lingering on the porch.
“Fuck off,” he addressed them very congenially.
They scrambled.
“What are you going to do? Beat me up?” I taunted, but my hand was itching for my taser. That I’d left in my purse, which was in Tray’s bedroom.
Gentley glared at me, a good full minute, before he said, “I fucking wish. Trust me.”
I did.
Instead I sneered, “What the fuck do you want, Gentley? Pull me out here, make it look like you’re putting me ‘in my place’? Trust me, I can hit back.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Would you shut the fuck up? You’re so damn annoying.”
“Oh no, fucker,” I began.
Gentley interrupted, “I’m not going to do anything. Fucking A, I can’t. If I did, and trust me, I want to, so fucking bad. But I can’t. If I did, Evans would have my ass in the hospital and I’d be lucky to walk back out.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Tray asked, a hint of violence in his tone.
Gentley and I had both been too caught up that we hadn’t noticed Tray’s approach. He looked to be returning from his vehicle and was regarding us suspiciously. It reminded me of the last time the three of us had been in the same vicinity. Tray had punched him and kicked him out. He looked like he was ready to do it again.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” he demanded, slowly climbing up the porch steps to stand next to me. There was a warning in his eyes as he stared at Gentley intensely.
Gentley held up his hand in a surrender movement. “No, man.” He took two steps backward. “Taryn and I were just going to have a talk. That’s it, man.”
“About what?” Tray clipped out, moving to stand, just slightly, in front of me.
“Look,” Gentley tried to assure us, “you and I already did our business. We’re good. I was just heading out and I saw Taryn. I thought I might give her a head’s up. I got a call that her ex is heading here. It’s why I was leaving.” He looked at me. “Booth was my ride here, I was coming to get him so we could leave.”
Brian was coming. That’s all I’d heard.
And of course—just like magic—a car pulled up in front of the house, rap music blaring through its open windows.
Three of the doors opened and guys piled out and leading the pack, was Brian.
And leading the pack, was Brian.
When he looked up, he froze, seeing us on the porch, three steps in front of him.
He took in Gentley, then his eyes trailed over Tray and me. They lingered on my hand that I’d unknowingly placed on Tray’s back.
I snatched it back, but fisted it, immediately regretting it. Tray turned to look at me and moved back to take in Brian.
The guys behind him, Rice and Hax all shut up when they saw me. Interesting, Hax was one of Jace’s guys.
Slowly, the sound echoing, Brian climbed up the steps and stopped, turning to face us. Hax and Rice stayed behind.
Gentley was pushed to the back of the porch, and to the back of my mind. I stepped in front of Tray this time as I faced off against Brian.
“Hey.” He nodded to me.
I relaxed slightly at the soft tone of his voice.
“Hey,” I breathed out.
He gestured behind me. “You and Ass Face friends now?”
Gentley wisely remained quiet.
“A cold day in hell.” I grinned tensely.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Brian nodded to Rice and Hax. “Go in,” he ordered.
They went in. Hax looked at me, lingering a moment before Brian shoved him inside and pulled the door shut behind.
He shrugged his shoulder towards the cars. “You should know, Grayley drove us. He’ll be here pretty soon.”
“Fine. I’ll leave.”
“Taryn,” Brian groaned—and we’d just entered Drama Land of the Past . “It’s not even like that. You have to know that.”
“You both lied to me. It’s exactly like that,” I said firmly.
“Oh for the fucking hell—it’s not! There are reasons, Taryn. Very good reasons,” he appealed to me. “Come on. There has to be for Geezer—Geezer!—to lie, too. We’re trying to protect you—”