Page 3 of Jerk
Hannah Alfonso Disgraced by Fallen Crown
— SBU Spotted
My eyes narrow on the caption of the most-liked photo.
Someone put Hannah Alfonso in her place.
And the most liked comment?
It’s about time!
The insides of my stomach curdle. This is how they really feel.
My martini appears right on cue, and I’m quick to bring the glass to my lips.
“Interesting night.” Vince Margoni slides up to me, swirling a glass of clear liquor with a smile far less sweet than the chocolate empire he’s set to inherit. “Whatever did you do to get a royal treatment likethat?”
“Whatever makes you think you have the audacity to speak to me?” I bring the glass to my lips, but this drink doesn’t taste as good as usual. I blame it on being in The Valley. It’s below our home in Paradise Hill. Literally. And it shows. Somehow, Ember got most of the student population here, but I regret making the trip.
Vince lets out a laugh. A mean chuckle. “Rowen finally made you interesting. That look on your face? I’d give a lot to see it again.”
My grip on my glass tightens. “Shame. Nothing makes you interesting enough to stand next to me.”
“You’re not embarrassed?” he asks, and I want to take my heel to his skull. “The way he carved into you like a piece of clay?”
“He didn’t hurt me.” My response is quick. Too quick if I’m trying to be calm. Too fast if I’m trying to pretend like what he did doesn’t matter. “He’s just being dramatic. It’s embarrassing. You know how men get when their egos are bruised, don’t you?”
“Well, if you’re into sharp edges, I'm up to the challenge, sweetheart.” His eyes land on where Rye left his invisible mark. “Unless Rowen has something to say about it.”
“I promise you, you’re not up for the challenge.” I laugh, taking another drink. It’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone, but Vince is far from a candidate. The men here are as delusionalas Rye’s performance, hopped up on cocaine and misogyny. Boring, really. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
His smile flattens. “Remember, Hannah, you’re not untouchable, and we all just saw that.” He lingers before I turn my back on him.
My reflection greets me in the bar mirror, my fingers trailing where that shard touched me. An invisible scarlet mark.
What I do from here is crucial.
My eyes land on a small empty easel on the bar, then they move to the tablet behind it. Wiping the invisible heart away, I reach for the tablet when the bartender’s busy. Once the bar app is closed, it’s easy to find a picture from just moments ago, social media eating up his twisted performance. Ignoring the stunned look on my face, I fill the screen with one of the posted photos.
After placing the tablet on the easel, I lean over and grab the bottle of Veuve behind the bar and pop the cork. It’s loud enough for guests watching me to notice. They think I’m shaken, but I’ll rebuild. I’ll be better. I definitelywon’tlet him stop me.
“Perspective is everything.” Raising the bottle, I address the crowd once more, their attention back on me. “I call this piece, ‘Desperation’.”
That gets the crowd talking again, murmurs filling the room as I take a long swig from the bottle. I let the bubbles tickle my throat as I own the scene before I stride towards the doors, leaving the tablet on display.
My posse scrambles to their feet. The Paradise Posse. My crew of untouchable, fashion-forward girlies that help make me unstoppable. They finally land where they’re supposed to. By my side.
As I push open the gallery doors, my phone vibrates, the screen lighting up again.
Ryung: this is just the beginning
My grip tightens around my phone as I type out a response before my finger stalls, hovering over the ‘send’ icon.
If I know men from The Hill, he wants a reaction. Narcissist. I delete my message. I won’t give him that.
Ryung Rowen can choke on his delusional expectations and his sorry attempt to take me down.
TWO
