Hexed (Never After #6)

5. Venesa

FIVE

VENESA

I hate this school. I miss the smell of the hallways at Southside Elementary, as weird as that is.

Like sneakers and microwaved lasagna.

Atlantic Cove Prep just smells like money. And they look at me like I’m some type of monster. Nobody’s said it to my face yet, but earlier today, I heard one of the eighth graders call me a “shoulda been” when she passed me in the hall. I walked right up to her and asked her what it meant. If someone has something to say about me, they better have the nerve to say it to my face.

Turns out, a “shoulda been” is someone who should have been born into money but turned out poor. Like lost potential. They also whisper that I killed my own mother just to come live with Uncle T.

If only they knew the truth.

It was my no-good father who did it.

I thought maybe when I made it here, to middle school in a fancy place with a fancy family, it would feel different. That I’d fit in more. Still, I don’t miss the small one-bedroom apartment with my momma, living paycheck to paycheck and having her vacillating between love bombing me and ignoring me entirely while my dad disappeared for weeks on end to gamble and drink away every single penny.

I never want to go back to that.

So they can call me whatever names they like, I guess.

I close my locker, spinning the lock, and then I’m down the hall and looking for Aria. She didn’t tell me where to find her today, but I’m hoping she can help ease the transition.

“You’re new.”

My footsteps stutter as I twist to face the voice, only to see a blond guy towering over me, a chain dangling from his baggy pants and a ring hooped through his nose.

“And you’re a genius, clearly.” I pull on the strap of my backpack.

He laughs and then throws a long, gangly arm around me like we’re old friends. “What’s your name?”

He maneuvers us through the crowd and toward the cafeteria.

“I don’t introduce myself to strangers,” I tell him.

His clammy hands grip my upper arms as he stops us from walking and physically places me in front of him. Then he grins and puts out his palm, leaving it in midair. “I’m Fisher Engle.”

He winks, and it’s endearing, so I shake his hand. “Venesa Andersen.”

“Now we’re not strangers.” He tugs on my fingers and I go flying into his chest. Before I can recover, he’s tossed me again, his arm back around my shoulders and me tucked into his side like I’m his newest pet project.

Maybe I am.

Or maybe this is a cruel joke.

“What grade are you in?” he asks while we make our way down the stark white halls.

“Sixth, you?”

“Seventh. Should be eighth, but they held me back a year.”

“Why’d you get held back?” I adjust my backpack again, and he grabs it from me, swinging it over his shoulder.

“Because I’m too charismatic.”

I snort a laugh. “Okay.”

He winks at me again and tugs me harder into his side. “Come on, Short Stack, I’ll show you where the cafeteria is.”

“What’d you call me?”

He chuckles. “Short Stack. You know…because you’re so short.”

I look at him like he’s got one too many screws loose because I’m the tallest girl in my grade, always have been.

Like every school cafeteria, the room is loud. The yells and chatter scratch across my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, and the fluorescent lights burn my retinas. I glance around, looking for the bright red hair I helped Aria dye three days ago.

A fresh start for a fresh place, she said. A celebration of her becoming more of a woman. We’re sixth graders now, after all. I wanted to dye mine too, because the chocolate brown just reminds me of my past, but Aria wouldn’t help me, and I was too scared to do it myself. She said I was too young, like she isn’t the exact same age.

My eyes immediately go to the center of the room because I know in my mind that’s where Aria will be. That’s where she always is: front and center and ready to shine.

Sure enough, that’s where I find her, sitting on the top of a table, her legs dangling off the edge, about fifteen people surrounding her like minions waiting on their queen. She’s laughing at something, her head thrown back and her mouth wide-open, that dyed hair swaying back and forth like soft waves on a shoreline, and I couldn’t have pictured a more cliché scene than the one playing out in front of me right now.

But I guess clichés exist for a reason.

Relief swarms through me when I see her, though. I’ve lived with Uncle T and Aria for the past few months, and she’s the only person who’s been there for me. Sure, she’s a little rough around the edges and gets her digs in when she can, but she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a friend. To a sister.

“There’s my cousin.” I point to Aria.

Fisher looks in her direction, and his body stiffens.

“What?”

“Aria Kingston is your cousin?”

I lift a brow, feeling defensive. “Yeah, what about it?”

He grins down at me and pinches my cheek between his thumb and forefinger. “Not a thing, jelly bean. It was nice to meet you, Venesa, cousin of Aria. Don’t be a stranger.”

My brows draw in. “You’re not gonna come sit with me?”

He hesitates, looking over at Aria’s table and then me. “Not really my scene.”

“Okay. See you later, I guess.”

He turns around and leaves, and I stare after him for a second before spinning back to focus on Aria.

She’s seen me. In fact, she’s staring right at me with an odd expression on her face. I grin and wave, but she doesn’t react.

Okay, then.

I stiffen my back and make my way through all the people. Crowds make me nervous. I’ve never been a popular person, and the more people there are, the more stares and whispers follow. It’s hard not to feel like every single person is silently judging me, even though I know they aren’t.

Everyone grows quiet when I stop in front of Aria, and she looks at me, leaning back on her hands so her chest is sticking out. She lifts her chin, peering down the bridge of her nose like I’m an ant that needs to be squashed.

“Hey.” I look around, trying to find a place to sit.

Her brow lifts as she stares, and suddenly I’m feeling super awkward.

“I’ve been looking for you all day. Thought you were avoiding me.” I tuck my dark hair behind my ears.

“Can I help you?” she sneers.

My body freezes up, and I glance around, not missing the way her minions are all stifling laughter behind their hands or looking at me like I’m the punch line of some secret joke.

My anxiety creeps back in like slime coating my insides, clogging up my confidence. My thumb picks at the cuticle of my ring finger, and I force a laugh. “Aria, come on.”

“Come on, what?” she asks, adopting a bored expression.

“Well, I just…I ? —”

“Tuh-tuh-today, Venesa.” Aria chuckles. “Jesus, you’re so pathetic.”

Her words slam into my chest, and I physically stumble a step. “What?” I don’t even know what else to say.

I notice all the people hanging on her every word, and reality comes crashing down on me. Gone is the nice Aria from this summer, and in her place is this…she-devil.

I am not welcome here.

She rolls her eyes and leans forward, something dangerous glinting in her gaze. I’m not sure what’s going on or what happened; I’ve never seen this side of her before.

Stupidly, perhaps, I thought we were friends. I found comfort in knowing I had a family member who actually cared.

“Are you deaf or just dumb?” Her eyes narrow as she trails them up and down my body with a disgusted look on her face. “All that extra weight blocking your ears?”

My stomach growls right on cue, loudly. Giggles burst from the girls sitting on either side of her.

“No, I…”

Is she calling me fat?

Heat rushes to my face, my cheeks flaring what I know will be a bright crimson.

“Look at her, she’s blushing,” some girl croons from Aria’s side. “Go back and sit with that freak you walked in with, little piggy. You two are perfect for each other.”

Aria’s jaw clenches, and she shoots a dark look at her minion, but then she tilts her head to the side. “You didn’t actually think…” She tsk-tsks, gazing at me with a self-satisfied smirk. “I would never be friends with a used-up piece of trash who was so desperate to be like us she killed her momma and even her daddy couldn’t wait to get away from her.”

Grief reaches through my chest and squeezes my heart until it splinters like a fractured bone.

Someone’s standing behind me, and I run into them, my backpack flying from my shoulder and its contents spilling out on the floor.

I drop to the ground, scrambling to pick up the odds and ends, biting my tongue so hard, I taste blood.

No tears, though. My father trained those out of me years ago.

Aria scoots forward from the table, her cute aqua shoe with a purple bow on the top nudging me in the chest and making me fall over. My palms smack the linoleum floor hard, and anger ignites in the center of my chest.

“Look at you, on the floor cleaning, just like those bottom-feeders in the ocean. Get away from me, you fucking urchin, before your filth gets all over us.”

“Aria never told me she grew up with her cousin,” Enzo notes, taking a sip of wine from across the table.

His voice cuts through the memory, and my chest smarts. I reach up and rub at the ache, focusing my attention on him instead.

I’ve never seen a man exert power over Uncle T and live to tell the tale, but I guess I’ve never met a man like Enzo Marino either. I still wish I hadn’t. He puts me on edge.

We’ve made it through most of dinner, and it’s been an awkward time, filled with small talk and everyone pretending like the prodigal daughter who defied her father and ran away hasn’t been gone for the past six years.

The room itself is cold, filled with monochromatic colors and a glass chandelier that looks like icy raindrops falling from the fifteen-foot ceiling. The tension that always exists between Aria and me makes it feel like hell has frozen over entirely and made its new home right here in the Kingston formal dining room.

I finish chewing my piece of lamb before replying with a mocking tone, “Now, why wouldn’t you want to talk about me with him, sweet Cousin? I’m hurt.”

“In New York, it’s easy to forget you exist, Urch ,” Aria says, a chilly warning in her stare. “Don’t take it personally.”

That nickname still stings like a papercut, even after all these years.

“No worries, Aria. You always have been a self-centered bitch, so it’s not surprising you wouldn’t want people to know about me.”

Aria’s lips pinch together until they form a tight white line.

“Yrsa Venesa Andersen, watch your tone,” Uncle T snaps.

I widen my eyes innocently as I look over at him. When my uncle gets angry, a bluish vein throbs at his temple, pulsing in time with the grinding of his teeth. Right now, I can see it beneath his skin like a living dragon, his lips pursed and eyes glacial as they cut across the room and sear into me.

I grab my water glass and take a sip to keep myself from saying something else.

Suddenly I feel like I’m nothing more than that insecure, damaged ten-year-old I was when he first took me in—lonely and broken and looking for someone who was proud enough of me to actually love me out loud.

Funny how something as simple as a memory brings up the old feelings.

“Yrsa? That’s an interesting name.” Enzo relaxes back in his chair.

My chest pulls with faint memories of my momma elongating the vowels “ehrrrr-saahhh” when we’d play hide-and-seek, one of the very sparse happy times I had with her, echoing on a loop in my brain.

I pick up the cloth napkin from my lap, then dab at the corners of my mouth before meeting Enzo’s gaze. “It’s Nordic. My father was from Denmark.”

“Venesa doesn’t enjoy talking about her past, babe,” Aria says with a tight smile. “Her daddy was a drunk who liked to beat her momma.”

“Aria,” Trent laments.

“What?” Her eyes grow wide as she looks at him. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

She’s not wrong. The last thing I want is to be sitting here talking about my dad and the name that’s haunted me ever since he disappeared, but maybe if everyone else is as uncomfortable as I am, then I’ll feel better about how the night’s going.

Luckily for me, E asks no more questions. He just nods, his attention flicking to my water glass and then to everyone else’s wine before he starts a conversation with Uncle T.

But I feel the phantom burn of his eyes on me.

I take the moment to soak up Enzo Marino in full. There’s something about him, like an itch I can’t scratch.

He’s arguably the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, rugged in a way that can’t be covered up by his polished appearance. The medium tan of his skin and midnight strands of his hair complement the crisp black of his cashmere sweater perfectly, and his jaw is so sharp, I’m surprised it doesn’t cut through glass. He looks every inch the rich and powerful man in his tailored clothes and movie-star good looks, but there are hints of ink peeking out from the corners of his neckline when he moves certain ways, and I can’t help but wish he’d drop the couture attire and let me see what he deems worthy enough to become art on his skin.

I bet he’s a good fuck.

My phone vibrates on the table next to me, and I peer down, seeing a text from Fisher flash across the screen.

Need me to come save you yet?

I can always count on him to come through. I pick up my cell and reply.

How fast can you get here?

I’m already down the street. How’s the family reunion?

The knot that’s been sitting in the middle of my chest loosens with the possibility of an early escape.

Come find out for yourself.

“Venesa.”

My head snaps up, everything in the room coming sharply into focus. Everyone’s looking at me, and when I meet Uncle T’s gaze, I shrink under his disappointed look. “E’s asking you a question.”

That knot tightens again like a vise, and I paste a wide smile on my face, gingerly setting my phone down next to me.

“I’m sorry,” I reply, even though I’m not.

I’m so used to saying the words to Uncle T that they’ve lost all of their meaning, but they placate him either way.

“No need to rush off the phone for little ol’ me,” Enzo chimes in, amusement dancing across his face, mimicking what I told him when we first met outside. Aria gives him a funny look, but he ignores her, taking another bite of his meal instead, chewing slowly, his eyes cascading over me like he’s cataloging every feature. “I was just asking what it is you do?”

“Oh,” I reply, glancing at Uncle T and then back. “This and that. Mainly, I run a restaurant for Uncle T, but I’m his go-to girl.” I force a smile.

Aria laughs, and I glower at her, feeling every inch the teenager I was when she used to live here.

Ugh, I can’t stand how she makes me feel. “Something funny?”

“Not the Lair ,” she guesses.

I tilt my head. “Actually, that’s exactly what it is.”

She harrumphs and lifts her shoulders in a careless way. “Guess I’m not surprised you’re back where your momma used to run herself ragged. You can take the girl out of the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out of the girl.”

Enzo cuts a sharp glare at Aria. “Watch your mouth. What’s wrong with you?”

Her jabs hit where they’re supposed to, but like I’ve always done with her, I don’t let it show. “I’m thrilled you’re back, Aria.” I grin widely. “It will be so fun getting to know each other again.”

Her face flashes with confusion.

Footsteps from the hallway interrupt the moment, and for the first time all night, a genuine smile takes over my face.

“Fisher,” I say as he comes into view.

Fisher Engle is larger than life, at least in personality. He’s not physically bulky, but he’s tall and has a wiry frame. His height isn’t what sets him apart, though. It’s that bright blue mohawk of his and the tattoos that cover almost every inch of his skin, from his fingertips to his neck.

To me, he’s the best. A ride or die who’s more like a brother than a friend.

Aria stiffens in her seat when Fisher walks around the large dining table and leans down to kiss my cheek. “Short Stack.”

My smile grows. “Hey, Gup.”

“Sorry I’m late,” he says loudly, plopping in the chair next to me.

“Hello, Fisher,” Uncle T says dryly.

“Daddy T,” he replies, ignoring the obvious tension streaming from across the table. “Aria, long time.”

“Fisher,” Aria greets, her voice stiff. “Not long enough.”

His smile widens, but I can tell it’s heavy and dripping with condescension. There’s a lot of history between them, some of which even I don’t know.

“You’re looking as beautiful as ever,” he says. “That dress on you is fantastic. I just love how you don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

The air grows still, a heavy pause making everyone visibly uncomfortable, but Fisher doesn’t mind. He lives to put people on edge. It’s part of why we get along so well. Besides, he has years of hurt from Aria, and when someone hides that kind of pain for so long, the ache turns bitter.

He reaches to the center of the table and grabs a croissant from the basket before leaning back in his chair and popping a piece into his mouth.

I bask in Aria’s discomfort.

Fisher’s brows rise. “Ran off to New York and lost your accent, I see. So the country bumpkin can become a city girl.”

“Some of us have aspirations besides wasting our entire life in Atlantic Cove, dealing drugs and being degenerates,” she bites out.

Fisher chuckles, throwing his arm around the back of my chair. “Don’t be a hater.”

Suddenly, the energy shifts, tingles of awareness prodding at my spine, and I know without looking that Enzo is staring at me. Again. I glance over, and his eyes narrow with a frosty glare that douses me like ice.

What’s his problem?

“And you are?” Fisher homes in on Enzo, and that makes me nervous.

Fisher doesn’t have a filter, and he might like to stir up drama, but he’s not built to withstand terrifying things, which is why although he does some of the grunt work for Uncle T and me—an easy transition from when he used to deal drugs to the high school kids around town—he’s not involved in the darkest parts of the business. And despite Enzo looking like a proper gentleman, I know he’s the monster that goes bump in the night, just like me.

Energy attracts energy, so when two people have a similar vibration, it’s easy to feel.

Enzo’s brow rises, and he lounges back in his chair. “I’m the fiancé .”

I laugh at the possessive note in his tone. “Don’t worry, E. Fisher’s got no interest in your woman.”

Aria smiles thinly. “That’s right. Fisher’s never wanted anything except Venesa .”

Enzo throws an arm around the top of Aria’s shoulders, mimicking Fisher’s earlier move, his dark brow lifting as he watches his future wife and my best friend interact.

“You know me,” Fisher says. “Can’t get enough of that Kingston love.”

She scoffs. “Venesa’s hardly a Kingston.”

A quick jab, but it does the job. My stomach drops when nobody at the table comes to my defense.

I am a Kingston. My momma was the Kingston before she gave it all up for my father. She was the apple of my granddaddy’s eye, the same way Aria is for Uncle T. Even after she chose my father over her family, she still got gifts and letters from my granddaddy. Percius Kingston never gave up on her, not until the day his house burned down with him inside it.

Enzo’s fingers skim across Aria’s shoulder, his gaze coming back to me.

I shift in my seat. I wish he’d stop staring at me like that.

“Probably why I like her,” Fisher replies.

“Fisher, not that we aren’t all thrilled by your company, but why exactly are you here?” Uncle T interrupts, sighing like Fisher’s the biggest pain in his ass.

“I came for my girl, of course.”

“Ouch, babe,” Aria squeaks. She rubs her shoulder and glares at Enzo.

He doesn’t reply or move his eyes from me, but his thumb smooths over where he obviously gripped her too tightly.

I grin up at Fisher, leaning closer to his side.

“You ready, sugar?” he asks.

I glance at Uncle T, and he gives a slight nod, dismissing me.

“You’re leaving?” Aria’s voice is incredulous. “We haven’t even talked about the engagement party.”

A laugh escapes me as I stand up and brush down the front of my dress. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You should really come by the Lair sometime.” I let a slow grin spread across my face. “If you ask real nice, maybe I’ll let you host your little party there, but you’ll have to promise not to mess with anything. I know how you like to play with things you think are beneath your stature and then leave them out to rot.”

My eyes flick to Fisher and back to her.

She frowns, her features twisting into something sinister, and I wink before saying my goodbyes and heading out the door.