Page 11 of Jerk
Raising the volume on my music doesn’t take away the image from earlier in my head. It doesn’t stop me from trying to make sense of why time and time again my mother accepts him back into our lives.
With a deep breath, I tap the QuickGram icon on my screen, revealing stories from others I follow. But it’s not the distraction I’m hoping for. There are so many videos of Saint Bons students getting ready for this party instead of my event they all RSVP'd to. My palms sweat as I scroll through my phone, until I land on his name.
“Leave Ryung alone.”
Walking away from this will make me a bigger person. But it’s hard when he’s rubbing his win in my face.
“Carlos!” My mom’s voice bellows down the hall, pleasure wafting with it.
My eyes narrow on Rye’s username. The extra bonus to having my event tonight was that I wouldn’t be around for my father’s arrival from Wroclaw.
“Yes, Carlos!”
Yet, here I am.
“Leave Ryung alone.”
“Carlos! Yes! Yes!”
I raise the volume higher. When my parents aren’t around, my room is my calm oasis. A sophisticated blend of luxury and comfort. Blush silk sheets, a feather chandelier, fluffy whiterugs. It’s like living inside a Dior campaign. But tonight, it feels far from comfy.
“More, Carlos!”
He’s fucking with my world.
If all my friends are athisevent that leaves me with no one to hang out with. Even Ember’s going. And it’s not like I can hang out at Sun House on my own. I’d have to accept mortification if someone saw me at our private social clubalone.
“Leave Ryung alone.”
And I will. Once he leavesmealone. Staying quiet means I’ve accepted his humiliation. Twice.
The feeling I’ve tried so hard to overcome fires through me as I storm to my closet.
I’ve earned my place in this town. He doesn’t get to leave me out.
I belong here.
So, if everyone’s going to this party, so am I.
FOUR
HANNAH
“You’re not on the list.”
The jacked man standing in front of me says words I’ve never heard.
“Can I see that?” He pulls back when I reach for the phone in his hand. Taking a breath, I stand taller, remembering my goal. “HannahAlfonso,” I repeat my name again. “And since when did the Rowens get a guard?”
The tall man folds his bulky arms, standing his ground as a couple of students from SBU approach him. Giddy girls dressed in black latex open their purses for Roidy to inspect before he lets them through with a throw of his thumb. Looking down at my crystal sequinned mini, I’m way off dress code.
“Tell you what, cutie.” Reaching into my clutch, I pull out a couple of hundreds. “You pretend like my name’s on that list and I’ll up your hourly rate.” Without another word, he takes it and steps aside, opening the large swivelling door.
I keep my head high as I enter the Rowen home, but when I do, it’s hard to keep my jaw from dropping. It’s not uncommon for Rye to host parties at his parents’ mansion, but this is far from the usual soiree.
Two red silks hang from the ceiling, performers wrapped in them. Red lights cast shadows from the glimmering chandelier, so does the flicker of flames from gold candles. Servers with white masks hold golden trays of champagne next to small bowls with tiny pills. People I recognize from campus mingle in leather and latex. I’ve been to a lot of parties, but this one is different. Very different.
Eyes land on me as the bass-heavy music drowns the click of my heels. They’re already whispering my name. Ignoring them, I scan the room for my friends, but I don’t see them. So I move to the next room behind a red velvet curtain.
