Page 6 of Corrupted Pleasure
Davina
“Four more months.”
Our glasses clinked together and our laughter filled the room, mixing with the music playing in the background. Taylor Swift’s album played and Wynter hummed along to the song.
It was just us, as always. Wynter, Juliette, Ivy, and I. The four of us sat in the luxurious living room of Juliette’s father's city home. It was the end of January, and stress levels had started to escalate with exams. The next several months would be brutal, so the four of us made a last minute decision to drive almost two hours to get to New York City and take a long weekend to decompress. In the safety of Mr. Brennan’s home.
I couldn’t help the ball of anxiety in my throat bubbling each time I thought about graduation and what to do afterwards. I wanted to be close to my grandfather, so I could visit him all the time. He lived in an assisted living home in Texas since he needed full-time care. But the goal was to have him wherever I ended up settling, and the pressure was immense not to fuck it up.
“Another round of shots,” Juliette demanded. She had been tense, despite acting carefree. I noticed her fidgeting and she only did that when she was stressed out. I didn’t think it had anything to do with our classes though.
There was something more to it. I just couldn’t figure out what. Something she refused to share with us, which was unusual.
“Maybe you two should take it easy,” I recommended, eyeing Juliette worriedly.
Both Juliette and Ivy ignored me and raised their glasses, almost spilling them. Wynter, who wasn’t drinking due to her vigorous Olympic training schedule, just shook her head. And me? I’d quit drinking those things three shots ago. Or maybe it was four; I wasn’t certain. I just knew I was smart enough to stop before I felt too relaxed, and too stupid.
I glanced out the large French window from the safety of my spot. The dark skies lurked and somehow it felt ominous with what was to come. It was stupid, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. Instead of focusing on the dark skies, I kept my sight on the snow covered trees and the reflection of the white snow gleaming under the moon.
It wasn’t our first time here. Over the course of the nearly four years at Yale, we had frequently come here for weekend getaways. When we had longer holidays, everyone would tag along and come with me to Texas. I took every chance I had to visit my grandfather. He was the only family I ever had. He raised me, and the least I could do was ensure I visited him every chance I had.
Unlike me, Juliette, Wynter, and Ivy preferred not to visit their families. More often than not, Wynter was busy with her training. Juliette and Ivy had absolutely no excuses that I knew of. Honestly, they could be brats, but I still loved them. Though knowing what their families did for a living, I’m not sure I blamed them for keeping their distance.
The first week at Yale, Juliette and Ivy were more than happy to educate me about their families. Maybe they expected I’d run or refuse to be friends. I did neither. And I found friends for life. Wynter and Juliette were cousins and the two pretty much grew up together in California, under the care of Wynter’s mother, Juliette’s aunt on her father’s side.
Both Ivy and Juliette’s fathers ran their respective families in a much larger crime syndicate.
Juliette’s father ran the Brennan Irish family. According to Juliette, he owned a good part of the westside of New York and the northern part of the East Coast of the United States. He also had connections and ran part of the criminal organization in Ireland. I had never met her father and part of me was kind of glad. I had enough stress in my life.
Ivy’s father and brothers ran the Murphy Irish mafia. They mainly stuck to Ireland and European countries. Ivy called them the Irish pricks. And that was the extent of our knowledge. Both theirs and mine.
I got the feeling they also felt slighted somehow. Neither one of their families included them in any of their business dealings because they were women.
Wynter didn’t really give a crap. All that girl loved was figure skating. She won her first gold medal at fourteen at Junior Worlds, Nationals at fifteen and sixteen, then Olympics at seventeen. Her mother was her coach, but since she started going to Yale, she’d lost that. In the four years here, we’d visited California twice. Most of the time, the girls preferred to go to Texas with me. My grandfather loved it as much as my friends.
Still, I found it odd that Wynter’s mother never visited the East Coast, especially considering she was born here. Juliette mentioned Mrs. Flemming hadn’t stepped foot in New York for over twenty years and most likely never would. There was a story there somewhere, even if none of us knew what it was.
So, Wynter trained pretty much on her own while at Yale. After winning the Olympic gold medal in singles figure skating, she suddenly decided she wanted to compete in pair skating. Kind of a “been there, done that, on to something else” thing, I guess. The search for her ice skating partner was as stressful to the three of us as it was to her. We all traveled to California to support her in her search, but Juliette just about ran off each potential candidate with her questioning.
Have you ever dropped a woman? Ever tried to cop a feel when lifting a partner on ice? Ever groped a woman? Are you a voyeur? Do you take drugs? Any assault charges?
Jesus, I’d never forget that line of questioning. Juliette grilled them and made them feel like they were some kind of sexual predator. I couldn’t even imagine how uncomfortable the men were, considering how awkward it’d made me just sitting there listening.
Wynter studied their technical and artistic skating on the ice. And Wynter’s mother just watched them, muttering something to herself every so often, while Ivy and I just stared. Our mouths gaped open, feeling way out of our element.
Like Ivy and Juliette, I never knew my mother. Yet I never imagined her to be like Wynter’s mother. Mrs. Flemming was a peculiar woman to say the least. She raised both Juliette and Wynter together when the two girls weren’t with Mr. Brennan, Juliette’s dad. Despite that, she somehow always seemed distant. I’d only seen her interact while Ivy and I visited but that just seemed to be her personality. Maybe it was because not only was she Wynter’s mother but her skating coach as well.
Anyhow, Wynter finally picked out her partner who lived full-time in California. Right after her last exam, she’d be flying back there to start vigorous training with him for the Regionals, Nationals, and World Figure Skating championships this winter. Juliette would follow since she pretty much grew up there too.
“I have no idea what the fuck to do after we graduate,” Juliette announced, repeating my own worries while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. We had yet to figure out who could outdrink the other - Juliette or Ivy. Those two were lushes and could drink the boys at Yale under the table. Truth be told, we didn’t party as hard as some of the other kids that were graduating with our class.
“Killian knew what he wanted when he was in diapers,” she continued. “And here I am twenty-one and have no clue what to do with myself. It’s not like I can help Dad like Killian does.”
“Maybe ask your dad and see if you could help out with something at his… ummm,business,” I suggested.
A shadow crossed her face.
“He’ll say no,” she dismissed me, waving her hand. “He’ll say how he wants a safer and better life for me, blah, blah, blah.”
