Wild Violet (The Vi Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 1) (5 page)

Andrés wasn’t kidding. He dragged Vi around the Lower East Side to look at several listings they found on Craigslist. One was already taken, the other one looked far too sketchy to even consider, and the other had a dead rat on the stoop.

“My father said he’d cover my rent. I should just call a broker,” Vi says, feeling defeated, unwilling to see anymore. She still can’t get the image of the dead rat surrounded by flies out of her head. The smell alone was gut-wrenching.

“You can, but maybe you can take this as an opportunity to show him that you don’t need his money, at least not a lot of it anyway. What better way to say ‘fuck you’?”

Vi laughs. “That’s been playing in a loop in my head.”

“Look, there’s one more place I can show you. I know a guy who manages a building over on Eighth and First. Close enough to campus.”

“Is it sketchy? Because I’m going to lose it if I see another rat.”

Andrés shakes his head. “It’s alright. A walk-up, not updated, but it’s clean.”

Vi takes in the 400 square foot studio, with a walk-in closet the size of her soon-to-be former shower.

Andrés opens a set of doors on the far wall. “This used to be where the Murphy bed was. It makes for a good workspace.”

Vi nods and makes her way into the bathroom, which would fit at most two people. The sight in the bathtub makes her scream. “Andrés, get in here please!”

“What?” He asks. When he spots what’s she’s pointing at, he laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s dead.”

Vi leans against the doorframe to catch her breath.

“This is New York City, Violet. Most people coexist with vermin and cockroaches. You’ll learn to cope.”

“I thought you said it was clean,” she says between breaths.

“Clean is relative. You can get traps and sprays at the store around the corner.”

Vi leaves the bathroom and crosses the living/sleeping/kitchen area to open the window. As soon as she lifts it, her senses are assaulted by the dirt and noise from the street.

“It’s not Gramercy Park, but you’ll get used to it. We all do. Besides, the people that live in this building are pretty nice, at least the few I’ve met. There’s an old couple down the hall, a few students upstairs, and even a nice family from Ecuador that live in a studio apartment below you. For fifty dollars, Inez will clean your apartment. I highly suggest you do it.”

“How do you know these people? Don’t tell me you live here?”

Andrés smiles. “Two floors up. I promise not to stalk you. Like I said, I know the building manager. There was a couple looking to move in next week, but I convinced him you were going to end up on the street if you didn’t get this place.”

Vi climbs out onto the fire escape and takes in the view of Eighth Street. A few minutes later, she comes back inside. “I’ll take it.”

“What are you reading?” Andrés asks, coming down the fire escape.

Vi jumps when she hears his voice. “You frightened me.”

He laughs as he sits on the landing across from her. Peeking into her window he says, “Looks like you’re all settled in.”

“Yeah,” Vi replies, closing her book. “Inez did a great job scrubbing this place down. You sure fifty dollars is adequate?”

Andrés nods. “It’s fair. You’re a poor student, remember?”

“As if I need reminding.”

“Five thousand a month is more than most students and even families have to spend, but there’s a bigger picture. You’re saving now. If you’re not careful, the City will take your money.”

Vi shows him the cover of her book.

“Ahh,” he says, “Interesting summer read.”

She shrugs. “Getting a head start on my course reading.”

“Since when do math majors read Erica Jong?”

“Since yours truly decided to explore her options and take a class on 20
th
Century Feminism as well as Religions of India. I have almost all the credits I need to graduate, so I figured I’d take some classes that I had been interested in. I didn’t take them sooner because I was afraid my father wouldn’t approve. I can’t believe I ever cared.” Vi gives a sardonic laugh.

“One more step toward independence.”

“Where were you tonight?” Vi nods at him, noting his fitted Dolce & Gabbana linen suit and skinny tie. She’s done talking about her new situation right now. It’s consumed her thoughts every waking moment.

“Jazz concert at Lincoln Center.” Andrés loosens his tie. “Nice ensemble, but my date was a bit of a bore. Lawyer in town from Chicago.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Date,” Vi presses. “More specifically, act as if the woman you’re out with is interesting or that you’re having a good time?”

“I wouldn’t do this if I hated it. Most of the time, the women I come across are well-traveled and well-educated. If they’re married, then they’re generally looking for the attention they don’t get from their husbands, or they want some excitement. If they’re single, like the woman tonight, then they don’t want romantic entanglements. Either way, it’s not a bad job.”

“A woman who is paying you for your company knows it’s what you do for a living. So for a night or two or whatever, you act solely devoted to her. How do you fake it?”

Andrés laughs. “Violet, most people fake their way through their jobs, relationships and even through life. Passion and love can’t be faked, no matter how hard you try. The key is to connect with that feeling inside of yourself and then project it. Here, let me show you how I do it. Come closer.” He summons her with his finger.

Vi moves down a step.

“Close your eyes.”

She does as he tells her.

“Now, think about a time when you are happy. I mean, when you feel truly blissful and joyful. Play out that moment in your mind, let those emotions fill your body.”

A smile spreads across Vi’s face.

“Open your eyes and look into mine. Say something nice to me, but make sure it isn’t true. Just say it like you mean it.”

She brings her face closer to Andrés. Just then, a pigeon swoops over them. Vi glances at the dropping that nearly hit them. “I’m so glad you found me this apartment. It’s wonderful.” She laughs.

“Need help?” Andrés asks Vi as she pulls her suitcase down the steps.

“No thanks, I’m good,” she replies, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Just one more flight to go.”

“Where are you off to?”

“Seeing some friends for the weekend. What about you?” She asks, noting his travel bag.

“Working weekend. If you’re heading to Southhampton I can give you a lift,” Andrés says, pointing to the car waiting for him at the curb.

“Thanks, but I was told the Jitney is a reliable form of transportation to the Hamptons. Isn’t that what we students are expected to take?”

“Maybe at off-peak times, but this is Labor Day weekend.” Andrés bends down to suck on Vi’s earlobe. Then he whispers, “Get in. I’m sure we can make the most of the long drive.”

Those promising words send a pull to Vi’s core that she can’t ignore.

“Vi!” Lily shrieks, rushing down the steps of her family’s Southhampton home. She pulls her friend into a big embrace.

“Whoa,” Vi laughs, hugging her back. She didn’t realize how much she had missed Lily until just now. Finally seeing her best friend of six years after a long, three-month absence feels like coming home.

“Who’s that?” Lily asks, as Vi waves to the car driving away.

Vi shrugs. “A friend gave me a lift.”

Lily puts her arms around Vi as she leads her up the steps. “I have so much to tell you, and I want to hear about your summer. Were you bored being in the City by yourself?”

They stop talking when they see Lily’s mother, Poppy, standing at the door. She leans in and kisses Vi on both cheeks. “Vi, darling. It’s wonderful to see you. I’m so glad you could come,” she says sweetly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Baron,” Vi replies, trying not to flinch. Lily’s mother has never been this warm toward her before.

“Oh, please call me Poppy.” She places a hand on Vi’s shoulder.

“Did you come with a friend?” She asks curiously, motioning to the driveway gates that had just closed.

Vi nods. “Neighbor dropped me off.” She points to a sculpture in the grand foyer. “Wasn’t that piece exhibited in the MOMA a few months ago?” She asks, trying to take the attention off of her.

“Why yes, how good of you to notice. Neither of my daughters did,” Poppy says, moving aside so Vi can enter.

“D, can you please try to convince Vi to come out tonight?” Lily calls from the bathroom as she twists a towel around her hair. Dahlia and Vi are sprawled out on her large queen bed flipping through magazines.

“Why? Maybe she doesn’t want to go out with you and Jack tonight. I can’t blame her. Watching him shove his tongue in your mouth isn’t fun or sexy,” Dahlia tells her. Then, looking up at Vi she whispers, “There’s a private club out on Montauk. Super fun, super hot guys. Not your typical scene. We should go there.”

Vi smiles. “I’m in. But what about your sister?”

“What about her? She and Jack are totally inseparable right now. It’s disgusting. I’ve been throwing beautiful men in her path all summer, and it’s like she has cute-guy blindness or something.”

“Jack is cute,” Vi replies. He’s not her type, but objectively speaking, he’s good-looking in that conventional sandy blond, blue-eyed kind of way that has half the women of New York on their knees to be with him. Money and good looks. Sadly, men need so little to get by.

Dahlia rolls her eyes. “To each her own. Whatever. So are you in?”

Vi shrugs. “Sure. Just make sure Lily joins us. We’re not excluding her just because you hate Jack.”

“Vi,” Dahlia shouts over the loud electro music. Vi is already moving to the sensual beats. “I need your credit card.”

“What for?” Vi asks, taking in the space, which is housed near an empty strip mall. There were no signs of life outside the club except for the expensive cars that lined the dirt road behind the building. Once they walked in, they passed through one steel door and went up a flight of stairs to a room lined with heavy red velvet curtains. It was almost too dark to see anyone, but as her eyes adjusted, she could tell Dahlia was right. Vi doesn’t recognize anyone from her party scene in the City.

“Bar tab,” Dahlia says matter-of-factly. “Bottle service is paid upfront.”

“How much?” Vi turns to see Dahlia looking at her wide-eyed. Shit. Vi can’t remember the last time—or any time for that matter—that she’s asked how much something cost. She begins to pull cash out of her purse. Along with the allowance, her father also suspended her credit cards. Vi had to get a new one through her bank, which has such a small limit she didn’t bother bringing it this weekend.

Dahlia puts her hand on Vi’s. “Never mind, found mine,” she says, pulling the small black plastic card out of her bra.

Vi smiles, relieved that Dahlia didn’t make a big deal out of it. She and Lily have always been easy-going like that. Other than the Baron name, you almost wouldn’t guess they came from one of the wealthiest and most influential families in New York.

“I’ll get the next one,” Vi assures her, hoping deep down they leave before that happens. Fifteen hundred dollars for a bottle would quickly eat away at her budget if she’s not careful.
Damn, I really may need to get a job.
“Where’s Lil?” She asks as they follow the petite hostess to a table in the corner. Within minutes, the young woman brings a bottle of Grey Goose, an ice bucket, mixers and glasses.

“She’s supposed to text from Jack’s place.”

“Why couldn’t he meet us here?”

“Because that prick doesn’t have to do anything. I swear, Vi, Lily is a different person when she’s around him. Makes me sick to watch.” Dahlia pauses to take a shot of vodka. Vi does the same. She looks around and counts the tables, ten in all. Only half are taken. The rest have cards that say
Reserved
.

“How’d you find out about this place?” Vi asks, steering clear of any talk about Lily and Jack. What’s going on between Dahlia and Lily is a sister thing. Vi can’t begin to understand that dynamic since she’s an only child. But it’s not difficult to see that Dahlia’s become more vocal about her dislike for Jack. That can’t be easy for Lily.

“Got some random text,” Dahlia replies distractedly, pouring herself another shot. “Figured I’d check it out.”

Vi laughs, feeling the warm effects of the alcohol coursing through her body. “So you came to a dark place in the middle of nowhere by yourself?”

Her friend gives her a mischievous smile. “I had it checked out first, Vi. Give me some credit.”

Dahlia takes a few more shots. Vi has known Dahlia and Lily long enough to recognize they each have their distinct personalities. It’s not so much that one is the fun twin and the other isn’t. Rather, Dahlia has had a more seize-the-moment approach. But this isn’t about being in the moment. Ever since Dahlia’s return from California, her partying approach has edge to it. There’s an anger and bitterness in the way she approaches her life. Dahlia doesn’t drink to get loose. She drinks to forget. And while Vi would like to, and has tried to talk to her about it, Dahlia has made it clear she doesn’t want to talk.

Finally, Vi stands and says, “Let’s go dance.”