Page 33 of Brutal Lies
Chapter 16
Astrid
Shit. I don’t have that kind of money. Howland unfroze my account, but there’s only twenty-five hundred in it. Fuck. The satiated vibe from a good fuck comes off me quickly when I face the fact that I’m going to have to fight at the Pit.
I smell of sex during class, and afterward I head to the dorm for a shower. I’ve got the room to myself as I change into jeans and a T-shirt. Pierce told me to talk to Justin about the Pit, and I had been putting it off. I can’t anymore. There’s nothing I can do for Nova unless I fight. I even talked to Dad’s power lawyer, and the man didn’t want to be bothered with something so small. He kept mentioning all his cases for his steady clients. Besides, he doesn’t handle criminal law.
The sun’s already set, and it adds to my dread of going to speak to Justin. There’s something about doing something you don’t want to do while it’s dark. It makes the day longer. Nova is the only reason I’m talking to Justin again. It’s after dark, but Vogel Hall is always full of activity, with music and voices filling the halls. The smell of wet paint relaxes my nerves as a Pink song plays from a pair of unseen speakers.
My kickass confidence returns as I walk into his studio. Seated in a folding chair, Justin tilts his head and stares at a large canvas on an easel splattered with paint. Then he glances over at me as if he’s been waiting.
I walk slowly around the canvas as Pink sings “Raise Your Glass” in the background. No matter what I think of Justin’s sick behavior, he is a legit artist. An intense talent. I have to check out his work, and then I’ll scream at him. My eyes widen as I look back at me on the canvas constructed from splatters of paint. Justin has taken all his sketches of me and painted a nude. The face is vaguely constructed, but it’s me. It even has my tattoo.
I blink, trying to recover my thoughts as I stare at the vivid slashes of paint. Do I really look that intense? That strong? No. I can’t fall into Justin’s trap again. He screwed up, and he better explain. I spin around and fix an evil stare on him.
“Why did you jump in that limo with your dad?” I ask him.
His brows lift. “That’s a novel opener to a convo. And I haven’t talked to you in a while either.”
“Nope, not going to work,” I hold up a hand to stop the bullshit. “Your answer is all that matters right now, right here between us.”
He smirks. “Are you jealous?”
The ego is an amazing thing, especially when you fuck up. “No,” I reply heatedly, “I’m concerned when the guy I hang out with shares a whore with his dad.”
The smug expression slips off his face. “It’s not as it appears.” He gazes at the canvas. “Things rarely are.”
“They all saw you,” I tell him. He’s not slipping out of this conversation. “Look, I don’t care how you spend your free time, but you’re not putting me at risk.” Of course, I’m lying, but I bite my lip from the inside to keep my expression neutral.
“Remember the laptop?” he asks.
I shrug and sit down on the platform near his chair. “Of course I do.”
“I’ve been trying to get out from under my father,” Justin says, “but it’s difficult. No, impossible. I can’t reason with him because he doesn’t have a conscience. So I have to do something that will torpedo his power and influence. Something that can’t be argued, discussed, or denied.”
“So you didn’t touch that girl?”
Justin looks at me like I completely missed the point. He sighs and just stares at the canvas again. We sit like that for too long, and whoever was playing the music shuts it off. I hear laughter in the distance and then a banging door. I wonder if we’re alone.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, “Pierce told me to ask you about your father.”
Justin grins but shakes his head in disbelief. “I need the laptop back. Pierce had a collection of videos of my dad from private parties they attended together. It found its way to the cloud, but it was up there long enough for me to copy it.”
“Okay, I’ll give it back to you. I doubt I’ll need those spreadsheets anymore.” I stare at Justin until he looks at me. “What is it with Pierce? I heard rumors. You know, as to why he acts the way he does. Most of the time.” I pause, hoping Justin will jump in, but he’s not making it easy. “So what happened with him? Was he really molested?”
“No,” he pauses for a second. “It was me.”
My eyes widen, and I really wish they hadn’t this time. I don’t know what to do or say at this point. I feel like an idiot, scrambling for one kind word to say. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Justin scoffs. “I was too young to really understand, but Pierce knew it was wrong when I told him that my social studies teacher had touched me. He told my father, and then it all disappeared.”
Justin sits on the chair, staring at the floor, reliving a dark corner of his past. He doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t dare ask questions, though there are many I want to ask. He closes his eyes, and he breathes deeply in large exaggerated gulps.
I jump up and hug Justin and hold him close, but he feels stiff in my arms. I let him go and sink back down to the platform. The pain in his eyes guts me, but I don’t know what to say other than sorry, and maybe he doesn’t want to hear that again.
“I am sorry,” I whisper softly, but he hears me.
“It’s not your fault.” He looks at the painting again.