Page 68 of Pretty Vengeance


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All the air leaves my lungs in an instant. I try to speak but instead make a tiny croaking sound. Ash’s head turns and, seeing my face, she sits up. The rushing sound in my ears is so loud, I only half hear Billie’s next words.

“I wanted to call you personally to let you know, you’re in.”

Sucking in a breath, I mumble, “Sorry… couldn’t hear. Did you say I’ve been accepted?”

“Yes. Congratulations. Welcome to the Briar Club.”

“Oh, my God,” I whisper. “Thank you! I’m so happy.”

She chuckles. “You earned it. In a few minutes, you’ll get an email with details about the Induction Ceremony. Members only.”

“Perfect…. perfect.” Sitting up, I exhale. “I’m—Is the Induction Ceremony where new members get their bracelets?”

“Let’s not jump ahead, okay? The emails will have all the information you need.”

My lips go dry, and my heart pounds. I really want to be able to wear the bracelet for the holiday get-together with my Allendale grandparents, but I force my voice to sound chill. “Of course. Thanks for the call, Billie.”

“Happy to do it. See you soon.”

The instant the call has safely ended, I fall back onto my bed and scream triumphantly.

Ash drops onto her side, facing me. “Two million Nigerian royal dollars? That’s so awesome, babes.”

We both laugh.

I tell her about my acceptance to the club, and we celebrate by adding an ounce of Bailey’s to our hot chocolate and dancing to Tronex as we hang holiday lights around our window.

After we return to studying, I can’t concentrate. I’m excited about the club, of course, but there’s a downside. My deal with Jamie was that he would help me get in anduntil then, I would be his plaything. I can’t help but wonder when the last time we’ll have sex will be. With a plunging stomach, I realize I may already have had it.

As I’m opening my official email from the club, I wonder what the hell is up with me. I’ve worked for this for years. I’m about to be a new member of one of the most powerful feminist organizations in the country. But, at the same time, I have to admit, if only to myself, that I’m not tired of being the sex toy of an Irish rower.

29

JAMIE

The week is busy, and I only manage to hook up with Sawyer once. When she calls Friday morning, I kick my door shut and sit on the end of my bed, glad to hear her voice.

“I was just thinking about you, Cranberry Sauce. How are you keeping?”

“How am I keeping?” she teases. “You’re very Irish today.”

“And every day.”

“Are you missing home?”

“Always. But less now that I’m talking to you, as the prospect of a great weekend looms.”

“Well, I called because I have good news.”

When she doesn’t speak, I push, which she seems to be wanting. “Go on then.”

“The Briar Club’s VP called. I’m in.”

My smile widens. “That’s grand. We’ll celebrate. You’ll come here, so we can do it properly.”

“I’d love to.”

The eagerness in her voice is a hot wave crashing over me. It’s been a hard slog all week, and the only thing I truly enjoyed was having her in my bed for an hour.