Her expression is the picture of innocence. “I told her for purely selfish reasons. I wanted to see her face once she realized she had true competition.”
“There’s no competition, Valeen. Selina and I will never happen, and Evan is a friend—if you can call her that.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Why are you encouraging this?” I ask, my frustration building. Valeen knows all too well about the curse, especially considering my father was her son. “Even if it was like that with her and me, you know why that won’t work.”
She reaches up to cup my face, patting my cheek. “Every summer comes to an end. Does that mean we shouldn’t enjoy the sun?”
Speaking in riddles is Valeen’s specialty. This particular example was an easy one to decipher, but I’m not always so lucky. I look over to Evan to find her laughing at something Eros said. Her smile is bright as she shakes her head, that blonde ponytail bouncing with the movement. Her skin looks warm and tan, and I have the urge to walk over there, pull her away by the wrist, and really enjoy the sun.
But I won’t. Hooking up with a random girl I run into every year or so is one thing. Fucking someone that I have to share space with for the next couple months? That has bad news written all over it. Even without my fast-approaching expiration date.
“What did you say to her when she came to your tent?” I ask the question that’s been burning a hole in my mind.
“That’s confidential,” she admonishes, clucking her tongue at me.
“You and I both know your readings are bogus. What I don’t know is why you and Evan looked spooked after you spoke.”
“I’m no psychic, Sebastian. You know that. But I do know that things aren’t always as they seem, and nothing is written in stone.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t spit in my face and tell me it’s raining.”
“I’m simply telling you the truth.”
“What you’re doing is trying to give me false hope.”
“There’s always hope, Sebastian. You’re not dead yet.”
Yet. But I would be soon. As a kid hearing about our family’s misfortunes, it seemed like some far-off fable. Invincibility syndrome is a real thing. I knew my dad had died, along with Lathan’s and Tres’, but I was too young to remember them. I knew my grandfather died. Hell, I remember when Eros’ father died, and what he did to us beforehand. But it still didn’t seem real. Was it a curse or coincidence? Could so much tragedy really surround one family by happenstance?
By eighteen, I started to take it seriously. Cursed. Jinxed. Extremely bad luck. Whatever you want to call it. Not coincidence. By twenty, I was resigned. My father couldn’t stand not knowing, and he took his own life because of it. Same with Eros’ father, though he took it a step further. I suppose, in my father’s mind, he took control of the curse. I won’t lie and say I haven’t considered it, but I saw how my father’s suicide fucked my mom up. When I go out, I’m going to do it with as few casualties as possible.
Valeen reaches for my hand, giving it three squeezes—our code for I love you—bringing me out of my morbid thoughts. As a kid, I didn’t show much emotion, but Valeen could always sense when I needed her. It was her way of being there without the embarrassment of hearing the words spoken out loud. I give her four squeezes back. I love you, too.
I glance over to where Evan was standing just a second ago, but she’s not there. I scan the area for blond to no avail. Evan sticks out here like a sore thumb. She shouldn’t be able to blend in so easily. I make eye contact with Eros who shakes his head, answering my unspoken question. Where the fuck did she go?
The people here aren’t all bad. But most of them aren’t above taking advantage of someone whom they deem above them. They fancy themselves modern-day Robin Hoods. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Except, they are the poor, and they’re stealing for themselves. Jessup doesn’t run background checks, which attracts a lot of felons who can’t find work elsewhere. The wayward. The hopeless. The criminal. The lost. The lonely.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her. She pats my hand before dropping it and heading for her trailer.
Selina sidles up to me, once again, before I have the chance to look for Evan. I inhale deeply, summoning patience. It’s not that I enjoy being an asshole, she just makes it impossible not to be. And, okay, maybe I enjoy it a little.
“What do you want, Selina?” I ask, my voice bored. She tugs at my wrist, trying to get me to focus on her.
“Why is she here?”
“Why do you think you have the right to that information?” Selina’s not my girlfriend. Never has been. Just because I was drunk enough to let her sit on my dick one night two years ago doesn’t mean shit. And this right here, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don’t fuck where you sleep. I tried nice. Tried it for two years now. Unfortunately, nice doesn’t work with girls like Selina.
“She doesn’t belong here.”
I pin her with a bored look. “A little hypocritical, isn’t it? No one here belongs anywhere. That’s why we’re in this line of work.”
“So, what,” Selina continues, not taking the hint, “is she like your girlfriend now? Or do you have to put on a polo and take her out to dinner and a movie and get her father’s permission before asking her to go steady?”
Our family history isn’t public knowledge. Somehow, it’s managed to stay relatively unknown—with the exception of the older folks who’ve been around long enough to witness it firsthand—even with the gossipy nature of the circuit. Selina, along with everyone else, knows that I don’t date, but she doesn’t know the reasoning behind it.
Losing patience, I speak slowly and clearly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “What I do is none of your business. Who I fuck is none of your business, and Evan is none of your business. The sooner you can get that through your head, the better.”