Page 20 of Lesson Learned

I head to dinner, catching up with Marnie on the way. When we get our meals from the buffet line, she barely fills half her plate. Another entry in my worry column.

“You got home okay, then?” Floss asks, dumping an overloaded tray beside ours and giving me a quick once over. She waves at another table, packed full of friends from her year, then to Marnie: “How’re you doing, hun?”

“I need a prescription for whatever they gave me last night,” she replies with a long yawn. “And if you could counter the rumour that I’ve just had a nose job, that’d be cool.”

“Sure thing. I’ll spread word that you’re in an underground fighting ring.”

Marnie’s delighted smile gives the suggestion a stamp of approval.

Brooke rocks up to the table. She kisses Marnie on the top of her head and takes her seat, pulling her mouth down at the suggestion of food. “I’m just here for the company,” she says. “Harrison took me out, and I ate half a pizza for lunch.”

Once she’s ploughed through her meal, Floss stages a cough to get our attention. Then she leans forward and my interest piques. She does have a knack for rooting out the best gossip. “Did you hear what happened with the bartender from the Bounty Club?”

It takes me a second to connect the name with the venue we attended last night. When it does, my stomach gives a sickening jolt. “What about him?”

“Apparently,” she drawls, glancing around at the room, as much to heighten the tension as to check no one’s eavesdropping, “it’s a poorly kept secret that he’s been serving up roofie-coladas.”

She pauses, waiting for that piece of news to settle, her grin growing wider by the second.

Marnie glances at me with a frown of concern and I wrinkle my nose, trying to pretend it doesn’t matter because I’ve already told her it didn’t. Trying to pretend that my chest didn’t just hollow out, that my pulse isn’t racing so fast I’m close to fainting.

“And this was the place you recommended?” Brooke asks, oblivious to the subtext running between me and Marnie, focusing on Floss’s cheerful face. “If that was an attempt to—”

“No! I didn’t know about it at all until today and it was Marnie’s choice, remember?”

I push my fork across my mostly empty plate, scraping the last few bits of my demolished coleslaw on board. Anything to not have to make eye contact.

“Someone beat him half to death.” Floss sits back and squeals, drawing attention, then scowling until the students looking turn back to their meals. When she resumes, it’s in a far softer whisper. “A cleaner found him this morning. My contact—”

Brooke snorts at the choice of word, then waves for her to continue.

“—they said he’s on the neuro ward and he might have permanent brain damage.”

Marnie gives me a sideways glance, then looks back to Floss. “Good. If he’s a rapist, that’s all he deserves.”

“Who beat him?” I ask, just to say something, to act normal.

“Probably a disgruntled boyfriend,” Floss says, sitting back, a slight frown testifying our reactions were anti-climactic. She nudges Brooke. “You should check Harrison’s knuckles”—and with a nod to Marnie—“and James. He seems the type.”

“If it were James, wouldn’t he come after you first?” I ask, shifting on my seat, my brain idly wondering where my mouth is taking it. “You’re the one who ducked at the wrong time.”

She makes a scoffing noise. “Like you know. You weren’t even there.”

“Where did you get to?” Brooke asks. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer your phone.”

“Probably too busy nomming on the cutie who paid her entry,” Floss says with such scary accuracy it sends a shiver down my spine before I catch the tease in her eye and poke out my tongue.

“My phone battery died, and I was in the bathroom. The line to get in there was longer than the one at the door.”

“You’d think designers would have a better clue these days,” Brooke says with distaste. “Like, hello? How hard is it to calculate the right number?”

“Apparently, it’s impossible,” I lob back, smiling now we’re on a different subject. “You should study architecture and specialise in bathroom design.”

“Since the first part of my trust fund kicks in a fortnight from tomorrow, I’m not studying anything except how to enjoy life to the fullest.”

“Amen,” Floss says, nodding in agreement. “Bollocks to work. We should form a female posse and go around kicking rapist’s arses.”

I purse my lips. “Didn’t realise you were so community minded.”

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