Shatter (Club Grit Trilogy) (5 page)

“It’d be a shame if your last semester here ended on a bad note,” said Pearl, clicking her tongue. “It’d be a shame if the girls learned the truth about your social media photos, the ones you skim off of Google Images and crop, and it’d be a shame if they learned that the designer handbags you sell are slightly less than authentic.” As she said this, she fingered the Louis Vuitton Speedy she had around her arm, the one I’d sold her for $200, that I’d bought for $150 back home, back where I was really from, not South Korea, but Compton, like Becca.

“And it’d be a shame if Emma left, and you wouldn’t have your sacred cash cow to milk anymore, wouldn’t it?” I said with a biting edge.

“You don’t get it, do you, Kim? If it weren’t for girls like Emma, you wouldn’t have your scholarship, or be able to live here for free. Your sorority scholarship comes out of the fund that’s fattened by rich girls like Emma. The sorority pays dues, that’s right, it pays dues to the university, and that enables the university to pay for your scholarships. You want an education, in post-recession America, as a new adult, in college, who can’t afford to pay for it on her own? Then you’re going to have to deal with girls like Emma, who might not be qualified to do anything but pay for this,” she said, touching the end of the captain’s bed in my room, “and for this,” she said, touching the lamp that came with the room, “and this”, she said, coming up to touch my desk, and turning to face me, dead in the eyes, the only thing alive in them a fire that I could tell she could barely contain. “If you believed life was fair, I don’t know how you were smart enough to get into UCBH, because everybody knows life’s not fair. You know that, don’t you, Kim?”

She knew I did, she knew I knew better than anyone else. Pearl had gotten Becca to tell her my secret, the secret about the fact I wasn’t from South Korea, I was from Compton, and that my family was poor, and Pearl had used that information to basically blackmail me into doing her bidding these past two years. It’s why Becca, my only true friend here, and I had become distant, and why now, it felt like I didn’t have anyone, like I wouldn’t connect with anyone on a personal level for a long time.

At least, that’s what it had felt like, until I met Lawrence, but now that I knew what I did about him? I didn’t know if I’d even have him for long.

As I opened my mouth to answer, she narrowed her eyes quickly before reverting to her normal peppy state. “You know that, don’t you, Kim?”

I looked away and just nodded my head.

“That’s right. Take Emma to Beta Rho tomorrow. Keep an eye on her. We need to forge a good relationship with them. One of the freshman, I think it was one of the slutty ones, accused the star of the pledge class of getting handsy with her at Club Grit, and I don’t want them thinking that we’re stuck up prudes. Do whatever it takes to make sure that the freshman, DeAndre, he’s on the football team, gets whatever he wants. He has a thing for petite blondes, so Emma is perfect for him,” she said, as if she was just matching up square pegs to square holes. It made my stomach churn, the way that she basically acted as a pimp, figuring out what girls would fuck which boys, and really, they weren’t more than girls and boys, not yet women and men, still immature, still lost, still vulnerable, still developing. The feeling didn’t leave even after she did.

I didn’t open up the browser again. I didn’t want to know more about Lawrence and right now, I felt like I wasn’t good enough for him. He was successful, educated, and men like him didn’t go for girls like me. Before I could start on my reading, there was another knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said with a sigh.

A chubby brunette named Rina entered the room, one of the girls that often went to Club Grit. She wasn’t rich, like Emma, but she was kind and considerate, and the kind of person I wish that the sorority would accept based on personality. However, that wasn’t how things worked anymore.

“Can I help you?” I asked, confused as to what she’d want.

“I heard you have bags for sale?” she said, pulling out her wallet. “I was wondering if I could buy one of the Chanel cross bodies you have, that is, if you don’t want it anymore. The thing is, and this is kind of embarrassing, I don’t know what color to get.”

“Well, that depends on the occasion,” I said, looking her over. She was dressed in her usual hipster style, with a grey and white striped sweater dress and an emerald belt that hugged her waist gracefully, over black tights and a pair of pink ballet flats. Her hair was pushed back into a navy headband.

“I, uhm, have a date,” she said, blushing.

“You do?” I said, incredulous, raising an eyebrow.

“I swear it’s true, even though, I’m kinda chubby –” she started, but I interrupted her. Yes, she was chubby, but who gives a shit? People whose business it’s obviously not.

“I’m not surprised that you found someone, you’re great inside and out, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I’m surprised that you’re into dating, you always go to Club Grit, and that’s more of a hook-up style place,” I explained.

“Well, my, uh, friend likes to go, and I don’t drink so I’m her designated handler, kind of,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“If you don’t want to go to Club Grit, you don’t have to,” I said gently.

“Oh, it’s not that. But anyway, yeah, I have a date, and I was wondering what color you recommend,” she said.

“Where are you and your boyfriend going on your date?” I asked.

“My what? Oh, uh, I guess we’re going to coffee, probably something casual, but I’m not sure,” she said, in all honesty.

“You’re going to want something versatile, then. What’s great is you can really pull off navy,” I explained, pulling out a navy cross body from the box of plastic wrapped bags in my closet. I held it up against her head and motioned her to the mirror. “You’ve got a cool toned complexion and your hair is ashy, which is good. See the way it shines a cold blue in the light?”

“Yeah?”

“The nice thing is navy can work in a casual or a formal setting, and you won’t lose this as easily, given the fact navy isn’t a very common color.  I’m sure your boyfriend will love it,” I said with a smile.

I handed her the purse and she ran her fingers over its quilting before turning back up to look at me and asking me, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” I said, surprised, given that we’d never been especially close.

“It’s going to be my first date. Like, ever.”

“That’s a surprise.”

She smiled and opened the purse, exploring its every nook and cranny. She tried it on with her outfit, and twirled, the purse gently lifting off her hips and into the air before it fell again. Rina turned from side to side and let the purse flop back and forth like it was a toy.

“Can I tell you another secret?” she said, this time, in her normal, cheery voice.

“Of course.”

“It’s with a girl. It’s with my roommate, Laura. The one I’m always hanging out with.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I assumed it was with a guy.”

“I...I haven’t told anyone here that I’m with Laura. I know that Pearl doesn’t like lesbians,” she said bluntly. I didn’t correct her. We’d all heard her use slurs that don’t need to be reproduced and rewritten and resaid, but we’d heard them from her, time and time again, when a pledge got too close to a friend, when someone got a short haircut, when a random stranger was wearing a flannel shirt, and nobody ever told Pearl to stop. I’d say I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Rina to have to listen to that, and in a way, I couldn’t, but in a way, I could, because Pearl had made jokes about Asian people too, and it hadn’t exactly been a blast to listen to her talk about how nail techs all looked the same, how all Chinese people must eat dogs and that’s why they never had Chihuahuas, and about how the reason I didn’t have a car must be because I’m a terrible driver, because you know, as a Korean woman, I’m a double threat.

Rina started to pull out her money but I put a hand on her shoulder. “You look great, Rina. But, how about you borrow it first? If you still like it later, you can buy it, and if not, you can borrow another.”

Rina looked up at me. “Really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” I half-joked, but she got the clue.

“Thanks, really, thank you so much, Kim. You’re the best,” she said, giving me an unexpected hug before she left with the purse cradled in her arms.

I went back to my desk and finally, opened my computer back up. I resisted the urge to keep searching for information about Lawrence Lamont, information that wouldn’t be a challenge to find, but that would overwhelm and engulf me, and I couldn’t have that, not when finals were right around the corner and I was so close to getting to leave the sorority, when I was so close to getting out of college, when I had a graduate school lined up for the fall and wouldn’t have to deal with Greek life again.

However, Lawrence stayed on my mind, even as Thursday night rolled around and the limo of Club Grit girls headed down the street and Emma and I, in just our casual outfits that were meant to look like we’d come straight from class even though we’d tucked our skinny jeans into our boots just so, pulled the sleeves of our plaid flannel shirts over our three-quarter sleeve sweaters in just the right way, and wrapped our scarves around ourselves in the way that made them look cutest, not the way that made us warmest.

Emma flashed her fake ID and headed down to the basement, where I didn’t need to be told, but knew that the frat boys did hardcore drugs like coke and heroin with the sorority girls. Selling counterfeit designer purses seemed a lot better, right then, than selling drugs like Samantha did. I bobbed around the room, nodding my head back and forth to the music as I sipped at a brown bottle of beer, the label sweating, before someone grabbed me from behind.

“Hey, gorgeous,” said a husky voice as he pulled me close against him, pressing my ass against his crotch.

“Hey,” I said, pretending to slur my speech. I needed more than just a beer in me to get drunk, but I didn’t want to go through the whole song and dance tonight. I didn’t want to play flip cup, or beer pong, or Russian vodka roulette. I wanted to get fucked, not fucked up, and I didn’t need to play real games or mind games. I was good to go.

At least...that’s what I thought.

Compared to Lawrence, frat boy Nathan was clumsy and boring. As amazing as some girls might think it is to get to listen to Nathan talk for an hour about lacrosse and summering in Cape Cod, I found myself missing Club Grit. The secret world behind the black sheer curtains? I would have traded all the hardwood walls and floors of the living room I was stuck in with Nathan and his ego for just a peek into that area again. The absinthe and its paraphernalia, which Lawrence had explained to me was not just called
absinthia
, but that it had provenance, like pieces of art, because in a way, they were as precious as any piece from Tiffany’s? I’d trade all the trophies and pennants in the frat house to just hold one of those jade handled slotted spoons in my palm, just one more time.

And I would have traded the night I was wasting with Nathan for just fifteen minutes with Lawrence, no, for just a glimpse of him, even a silhouette, visible through the all-dividing shrouds of what I know knew was the owner’s box.

The music here wasn’t as loud or as clear as it was at Club Grit. The rows of beers and red cups couldn’t compare to bottle service and flutes of champagne. There wasn’t anyone here I wanted to be with. There wasn’t anyone here I’d miss the next day.

As DeAndre led Emma up the stairs, I put on a fake smile and pretended to be enjoying the frat boy’s dick poking against my inner thigh, giving Emma a nod. She smiled back, and in that moment, I honestly hoped she was happy. At least one of us would be.

As the party died down, and random girls from rival sororities linked arms with random frat boys, the pairings all went to their respective rooms and areas, including Nathan and I. He took me by the hand to his room, and I thought that maybe the night could be salvaged. Although his dancing wasn’t great, maybe he’d be great in bed.

I was wrong. He fell asleep before we even got naked. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was never “all that”, but he fell asleep as I was unbuttoning my shirt, and I didn’t bother to tuck him in. I just lay on the bed, shifting and tossing and turning, trying to sleep and refusing to give up.

I couldn’t fall asleep, and it wasn’t out of fear, but due to the restless feeling you have when you meet someone that’s special to you, someone that, even upon a first chance meeting, leaves a strong impression and a taste in the mouth of your soul, someone like Lawrence Lamont. As the darkness turned to dark blue, and then lightened more, I woke up the drunken frat boy beside me.

“Last night was great, babe,” I lied through my teeth. “Do you know where Emma is?”

“DeAndre’s room is two doors down, to the left and across the hall,” he said with a groan before turning back over.

I slipped out of bed, back into my boots, and grabbed my small black cross body before knocking on DeAndre’s door. Nobody answered so I slipped it open. There was Emma, barely covered by his sheets. I shook her gently. “You’ve got to get up.”

“Five more minutes,” she said with a groan.

I shook her harder. “No, you have to get up now, you have to get up, Emma.”

Emma opened her eyes, squinting at the light of morning, the sun now rising, and then she realized her condition. I left and waited outside as she got changed, and we made the silent walk back to the sorority, where she showered and I still couldn’t sleep.

“T
HE FOLLOWING GIRLS MAY STEP FORWARD,” I called out. The girls knew why they were being called up: either they’d get to go out tonight or they wouldn’t, based on their behavior over the week. I made it random to keep people on the edge. If somebody wasn’t sure what side of the line they belonged on, I’d “round down”, so to speak. Only the best were supposed to pass the pledge period...unless they were like Emma, and were tolerated due to wealth.

If they thought that their only punishment would be that they’d miss going out, they were wrong. I had something much more humiliating in mind. Not humiliating like fall semester’s hazing, but humiliating in that they’d all roll their eyes, at 7200 rotations per minute, and bond over how cheesy the exercise was. I cleared my throat and continued, “And, you all can go to the den. Tonight, you are to watch some cartoon princess movies because you all fucking failed at the last social in terms of manners. I expect a five page report from all of you, by the time I get back from Club Grit, on the graces of a certain princess and how they’re lacking from your lives, as well as how you can improve. Size twelve, Times New Romance, with one inch margins and yes, Katie, I will be measuring.” I’d set out five classic Disney movies but because they were all around an hour long each, they’d need to start early. It was afternoon and there was other stuff I had to do, and by the time I was out at Club Grit, they’d already been in bed.