Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

He opened his door for me and I got in. “How’d you get off early?” Spencer asked, sliding into the sleek driver’s seat.

I snorted. “You don’t wanna’ know.” I sat up a bit in my seat. “How did you find out I was home anyway?”

“Pembrook texted me.”

I didn’t know what to be more stunned at. The fact that Pemmy contacted Spencer or the fact that he’d done it by text. I smiled knowing he’d done it because he knew I needed a friend.

I hadn’t been paying attention to where we were going until he pulled into The Ivy.

“Oh no, no, no. Not here,” I told him, sitting rigidly. My fingers worried my lips, desperate to leave.

“Why not?” he asked, puzzled.

“I’m not prepared to see anyone we know here.”

“Shit,” he said suddenly.

Sav knocked on my window, startling me. I turned Spencer’s direction and gave him the dirtiest look. Sorry, he mouthed.

I got out and she eyed me with obvious disdain at my appearance. “Sophie?” she asked, obnoxiously raising her sunglasses as if that would change what I’d worn. A snicker left her lips before she checked herself. “Um, how are you?” she asked, letting her glasses fall back down on her plastic nose.

“I’m all right. How are you?” I asked.

“I’ve never been better,” she said, not disguising the obvious pleasure she got out of seeing her mighty queen fall so hard. Little did she know how much I could care less what she or any of the others thought of me. I just didn’t want to be kicked while I was already down.

Savannah led us into the restaurant and Spencer fell in beside me. “If I had any idea, I never would have done this, Sophie.”

I wrapped my arm within his to reassure him. “It’s okay, Spencer. I’ll survive,” I told him, offering a smile.

His eyes blew wide for a moment before he checked them. “I’m still very sorry.”

I squeezed his arm to reassure him it was okay.

We sat at two tables pushed together. Two by two they all came flitting in, dramatically announcing themselves with flourish by flaunting their ridiculous material. Everywhere I looked, an Hermès scarf, a Fendi bag, a Patek Phillipe watch would flash in my face. Before, all I could think of when I saw these things was that I wanted or needed to have them as well but after Masego? All I could think of was if I pawned these items, I could buy them food for a year, purchase a new generator or even a new building.

I was met by all of them with disbelieving eyes and snobbish contempt. I wanted to scream in their faces, “It’s your parents’ money! Not yours!” but it would have done no good. To my right sat Graham, Sav and Brock, apparently reunited, sat to his, then Spencer, and Victoria. They’d kept to conversation within themselves, excluding me on purpose. The icing on the cake was when Ali arrived with Brent.

My face flamed bright red when Brent nodded at me instead of speaking his hello. Ali wrapped her arm through Brent’s in a palpable attempt to show ownership. I wished to God everyone would disappear except for them so I could have apologized. Glancing around the table, I realized I’d wronged every single one of my lunch patrons. Suddenly, the urge to flee was discernible.

I sat quiet, praying it would end quickly for me. The waitress came and took everyone’s orders skipping over me by accident. Spencer had to call her back. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut when they all sneered under their breath at me, hiding their laughs behind manicured hands.

But then I reminded myself that I deserved it even from a group as selfish and unaware as that one because I’d created them. I’d never really regretted anything I’d done before Masego but I certainly regretted many after.

“So, Africa?” Victoria asked, her valley girl accent laughingly pronouncing it Africaw.

“Yes,” I told their riveted stares, hoping one word answers would suffice.

“Did, you, like, see lions and shit?” Graham asked.

“Occasionally,” I told them.

“Which one, lions or shit?” he added as if he was clever.

“Both.”

“Is that, like, why you look like you do right now?” Sav asked, making the table erupt in laughter.

“What? Comfortable? Or without a nauseatingly noticeable amount of couture on?”