Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

“Ian! Ian!” I kept shouting before a passing officer ordered me quiet.

I ran the length of the corridor but he was nowhere to be found. I pressed the elevator button for the first floor but was too impatient watching it slowly ascend for me so I ripped open the fire exit door and ran the four flights to the ground floor. I was panting when I burst from the door on that floor. My eyes searched for him throughout the marble lobby. He wasn’t there. I rushed to the wide, wood entrance doors and out onto the descending steps. I discovered him just as he entered a taxi. I sprinted down the steps calling out his name and waving my arms over my head but he was gone. My disappointment was crushing. I fell hard to the bottom of the steps and sobbed into my hands.

“Why did he just take off like that?” Spencer asked coolly beside me, looking the direction he’d fled. I peered up at him. His hands rested in his pockets.

“Because he thought I betrayed him,” I said.

He tore his gaze away from the street and observed me below him. “You didn’t?” he asked.

“No, I-I was blackmailed.”

“Scandalous,” he said, bending to sit beside me. He leaned back on his elbows. He looked back out toward the street, avoiding eye contact. “You’re in love with him,” he stated as fact.

“Yes.”

Spencer sighed, turning toward me. “Then what the hell are you doing here, Sophie Price?”

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?”

“Did your dad lose all his money?” Sav needled, ignoring my own questions.

“Not that I know of,” I stated.

“You’re in serious need of a makeover,” Victoria added, her fingernails outlining a box around my face.

“I’ve just had one,” I implied, referring to my heart and soul.

They each looked amongst themselves and pretentiously and silently acknowledged with single looks exactly what they now thought of me, except for Spencer. Spencer seemed blissfully unaware what jackasses they all were but he was clearly aware of how uncomfortable I was.

“Sophie and I have to go, guys.”

He stood abruptly laying a few bills on the table and escorted me from my seat. As we left, a burst of repugnant laughter resounded from the table all at once. My shoulders sank into themselves but Spencer wrapped his arm around me and righted me.

“You broke the cycle,” he whispered in disbelief, his eyes bright with admiration.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN