Page 1 of Devious Gambit

ONE

Rhys

I had an assignment to complete on Complexity in Works of Art focusing on Ulysses and Hamlet, and I struggled to concentrate. What happened on Friday night put me on edge, jumping at the slightest movement and sound. If I was anxious before, I’m a nervous wreck now. Luckily, I had shifts at Stads on Saturday and Sunday, so at least I had company and felt safe for those hours.

I noticed he hadn’t come in. I noticed Adam Sweeney and his bozo friends hadn’t come in to Stads to stuff their big gobs with burgers. Good. The less I see of them the better. I wasn’t just taunting myself with fearful thoughts, I was also worried for that girl. I couldn’t see her face, and I longed to know what happened to her. I hoped, whoever she was, was okay. I hope someone came to her rescue, when I was too chicken to do so. I should be ashamed of myself.

“Ashamed,” I whispered as I doodled all over my notepad.

“Ashamed of what?” a deep, smooth voice sliced through my thoughts.

I startled, snapping my head up to find a bozo Bloodz standing over me like a Manhattan skyscraper, blocking out the light. He blatantly dragged out the chair opposite and sat his big backside down at my table. I claimed the table in the English Literary section of the Edgar Allen Poe Library the first day I arrived at Kingston Valley U, and I get very annoyed when I discover someone else seated there. Being amongst the great artists and writers of all time feeds my soul and nurtures my mind. Most of all, the table was situated in a dark corner, and in good view of the ground floor main entrance, where I could watch students coming and going.

“You’re not invited,” I told him.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s a university library, Rhys, open to KVU students. Last time I checked, I was one of them.”

“I’m not moving,” I spat.

“I’m not asking you to move. I want to talk to you.” He leaned forward in the chair, placing his forearms on the table and cupped his hands together. I kept my eyes low because I was too shy to look at his face, so I wasn’t sure which Bloodz jock he was. I deliberately avoided paying the Bloodz attention, and that included not remembering their names, except Adam Sweeney. He was different.

“What happened Friday night, Rhys?” he asked. Note: they knew my name, including my surname. I had no idea why or how.

“Nothing,” I answered, focusing on the piece of table between us.

“Hadn’t looked like nothing,” he argued. “It looked like you were running away from someone?”

I frowned. I understood what was happening. He’s trying to determine how much I witnessed.

“You seemed upset,” he added.

“Upset?” I cried out. “Oh well, you’re a fine actor, you are. Thespian quality. You should try out for Broadway.”

“I’m just asking a question,” he snapped. “I don’t think a smartass answer is necessary.”

I glanced at his face to find it was the beautiful one. I held back a sigh. Without a doubt, genes were kind to him. I didn’t know his name, but he’s the Bloodz member with the lovely jet-black hair that he sweeps back with his fingers, and a perfectly square jaw. If Mattel were to develop another jock Ken doll, they should base it on this guy. I’m adamant Barbie would be stoked. I mean, who wouldn’t be as long as she wasn’t disappointed by the lack of intelligent conversation.

Realizing that it was the beautiful one sitting opposite me, I found myself getting a little nervous and damn it... heat rose into my cheeks. Dead giveaway. Damn my English rose complexion.

“You were there,” I explained, as if he was dumb which could be a possibility. I still couldn’t look at him, not properly anyway. I could gaze all day at beautiful art and animals, but testosterone-packed men were a different story. I had zilch personal experience with men, other than my cousin and his best friend.

“Are we talking about two different things here?” he asked.

I started punching holes into my notepaper with my pen. “Let’s not play dumb. I saw what you and your friends did.”

“What do you mean?”

“To that girl. Who was she? I need to find out if she’s okay.” Yeah right, like he’s going to tell me. I did the math in my head, and he could’ve easily sprinted ahead of me and stood in my path on University Square. I saw four men and identified two of them; the other two must be the usual suspects they frequently hang out with. No brainer.

He relaxed back in his chair in no great hurry to leave and I could feel his eyes scrutinizing me. Even though I couldn’t look at his face again, I had the guts to glance up at his chest to see the KVU Hawks emblem on his maroon hooded sweater.

“Huh,” he grunted. “That.”

“Oh, right. No big deal,” I hissed sarcastically. “Just an everyday occurrence, raping girls for you lot. You bozos must get up in the morning and think, ‘Oh fancy a little rape after we’ve eaten our Rice Krispies?’”

“Never in a million years and I’m not a fan of Rice Krispies,” he corrected me.

“Not funny.”

---