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Tara decides to get a blowout done to pass the time, while Nya settles into the waiting area with Vance and Ezra. Through the frosted glass that separates the waiting vestibule from the salon floor, I watch their trio curiously.
Ezra is seated between Nya and Vance. Both of them are on their phones, while Ezra pulls a novel out of the pocket of his coat to read.
“What’s going on with them?” I ask Tara.
Her chair is right next to mine, and the floor is noisy enough that my voice won’t carry. She gives me a curious look, then follows my line of sight.
“Oh,them,” she says. “Fuck if I know, girl. Nya hasn’t been forthcoming with the details.”
“She didn’t tell you anything else since the last time?”
“Nope.”
“So, why did you invite her?”
“I said it to piss off Vance, I didn’t think she would actually come.”
Well, she’s here and it doesn’t seem to be going well for either of them. However, after experiencing Alexander Duke, I know better than to pass judgment on their situation. No matter how ‘normal’ Vance and Ezra seem to us, they are still Kingmakers.
They’re still monsters.
The lady doing my hair—her name-tag reads Hannah—leans over, placing her face beside mine. I jerk back, looking at her out of the corner of my eye.
“I don’t mean to pry, but…” she begins, an intrigued lilt to her voice. “I couldn’t stop myself from listening. Are you talking about Vance Du Pont?”
She’s whispering so I doubt Tara can hear her. Why is this lady asking me about Vance? I quirk an eyebrow. “Why does it matter?” My heart picks up.
Suddenly the realization that we’re not insulated on campus slams into me. Are we exposed here? For a few fleeting minutes, I didn’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders. But I’m being hunted, and in the company of a gaggle of criminals—this could endsobadly.
I didn’t even bring my fucking knife.
“He’stheVance Du Pont. I thought I saw him in the waiting area but didn’t want to stare in case it wasn’t.” She lets out a little squeal. “He’s so fucking hot, gosh. Iknewit was him. I was just watching his story a few minutes ago. Do you think he will take a picture with me?”
What the hell?
Is she…starstruck? I had no idea Vance is that well-known, but I guess it checks out. He is from a wealthy family and apparently a really good soccer player. She was just watching his story? Oh,that’swhy he’s always on his phone. He probably has a huge social media following.
I never really got into that side of the internet—unfortunately I still get social anxiety, even when thesocialpart is happening through a screen.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him,” I say.
That satisfies her enough that she gets back to my hair. I spend the next few minutes thinking over our exchange. Hopefully it wasn’t a faux pas to confirm that it was him, but Vance didn’t give me any ground rules about that.
It makes me think of how many people on campus might be popular outside its walls. Tara and Nya are so beautiful that I can picture them being popular online too. Ezra with his mysterious persona could have a cultish following too.
Even Alexander.
My stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of women recognizing Alexander in public the way my hairstylist just did. I don’t like the thought of it. Gosh, I really shouldn’t be thinking like this when I’m trying to hate him.
I force myself not to care.
My appointment passes by quicker than I thought it would. Within a couple hours, my hair is a few inches shorter and I’ve got pink sections framing my face. It’s not exactly my natural hair color—the stylist said that it would be hard to get back without bleach since my hair was such a light shade of brown before—but it’s close enough to feel familiar.
The girl looking back at me in the huge mirror feels like home.
She’s not the same Alize Moreau that had to be airlifted from a burning estate in New Hampshire. Nor is she the one Laurent Martin extricated from a French private hospital hours before it went up in flames.
This version of myself is new.
