He who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life.
Muhammad Ali
JENNIE
Lalisa isn't just a mobster. She's a fixer, which is "so damn hot." At least, that's what Doyeon just told me when she confronted me in our dorm room. She had pounced as soon as I opened the door. I just finished telling her what had happened, starting from the night we went to Rogue and ending with me in a top secret lab on campus. Of course, I left out the part about hooking up with Lalisa.
"So, let me get this straight." She's currently lounging on my bed in pajamas, because her half of the room is an absolute pigsty like always. She couldn't even find a seat on her bed before she gave up and laid down on mine. "She held your hand as she walked you to class? That is soooo cute!"
"No, it's not." I cross my arms. "It was to make sure I didn't escape! What's cute about holding someone against their will?!"
I purposely ignore all the romance novels I like to read, where it's more than okay to be kidnapped so long as the kidnapper is rich and handsome. I would be lying if I say I haven't swooned while reading a book where a rich, hot guy stalks a pretty girl and is a major jerk to her, yet they fall in love anyways.
But that's all fiction.
Having it happen in reality is completely different.
And scary.
Very scary.
She shakes her head. "No way was it against your will. I don't believe for a second that you can hold hands with someone that hot and not want to be in that position." Doyeon is clearly someone who suffers from Romance Stalker Syndrome.
"She's a fixer for the mafia," I say again.
That has to have been the tenth time I've said that. I don't expect her to magically abandon her vanity and fantasies, but I can't not bring it up. I'm still having trouble wrapping my brain around my situation.
"That's even hotter!" She claps her hands vigorously, in Elle Woods meets Bruce Banner fashion, the movement dainty yet causing the twin-sized bed to shake. "She's like a real life John Wick, except she's a million times hotter than Keanu Reeves."
I frown. "Except Keanu Reeves is actually a good person. Like, a really good person. And did you see him in The Replacements?" I fan my face. "Swoon."
She throws her hands up, like she is the one that has the right to be frustrated with me. "You're digressing! Lalisa Manoban is clearly the hotter one."
She's impossible. She's dead-on (Lalisa is hotter, after all), but she's still ridiculous. She threatened me, for goodness' sake. Doesn't that lower her on the Richter scale of hotness? And Keanu Reeves would never threaten me…
Plus, most of Lalisa's threats were subliminal, which is even worse. It means she's calculated. Cunning. Lalisa isn't a schoolyard bully relying on brute strength, though I have no doubt that she possesses it. Her greatest strength, however, is in her subtlety, the way she never reveal her hand unless she wants to. I have a feeling that she never does anything without a purpose.
"You're digressing." I take a seat on top of my desk and open a new pack of Starbursts. "The point is that I'm in danger. I owe a favor to the fixer for the most dangerous crime family in the country. My life is over. I might as well change my name, surgically alter my face, and move to Tajikistan… where she'll probably still be able to track me." I groan. "What am I going to do, Doyeon? This is the mafia we're talking about."
Doyeon's face becomes serious. When she opens her mouth and says, "Here's what you're going to do," I almost expect her to give me actual advice. She doesn't, of course. That would be asking for too much.
Instead, she says, "You're going to dress in your sexiest dress, that LBD I've been eyeing for the past month, and you're going to march up to Rogue and demand to see Lalisa. Then, you're going to spread your legs for her, she'll fuck you till she's practically living in your V, and you guys will get married out of wedlock. But who cares? No one's judging. Because, and I repeat, she's so fucking hot. You'd get to look at that tight ass all day long."
I throw a Starburst at her forehead. "Yeah, and then, after our wedding, I'll be shot down by a rival family, but not before the poison that Lalisa has been slipping into my food daily kicks in. And the worst part is that she'll get away with it, because the poison is untraceable." I roll my eyes and huff. "Be serious, Doyeon! Gosh, how is this woman not in jail already?"
But I know the answer to that question before I ask it. She's clever, cleverer than any cop, agent, and criminal on her side and against her. That makes her untouchable. I witnessed this firsthand in the way she carries herself, her intelligent eyes always scanning for threats no matter how exposed we were and even when we weren't. She was always on alert, ready. For what, I don't know, and I have a feeling that I don't want to know.
Lalisa isn't just street smart. She's also a gifted savant with a formal education most people can't even dream of let alone handle. Coupled with her unparalleled looks, she's the full package. It makes her lethal.
"I am serious!" Doyeon sits up on my bed. A rare frown graces her pretty features. "I'm completely serious, Loosey Goosey." She rolls her eyes at my scowl. She knows I hate that nickname. "You have an in with one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. You'd be a fool not to take advantage of it."
"Eligible bachelor?!" I throw another Starburst at her, and when she catches it in her mouth, I throw the whole tube of them her way. I watch as all of the Starbursts fling out of the rip in the tube and land on her face. "I'm pretty sure being a criminal makes her ineligible!"
She gives me a pitiful sigh. "Jennie, Jennie, Jennie. When are you going to get it?" She unwraps the Starburst that landed in her mouth and tosses it back inside, chomping on it with the grace of a gorilla.
It's cherry. My favorite flavor. Fuck her.
"There's nothing to get. She's a criminal, I called the cops on her, and she was going to kill me. End of story."
The End.
Ha! If only.
With her mouth full, Doyeon replies, "But she's a hot criminal. It's not like she's a pedophile, domestic abuser, or pimp."
I groan. I'm embarrassed on behalf of my gender. "There's no such thing as 'hot' crime! Crime is crime!" I make a mental note to discover the cure to Romance Stalker Syndrome.
She snorts. "Not if you look like Lalisa Manoban. Seriously, Jennie, I'm so jealous of you right now. You should have seen my face when I heard that Lalisa Manoban is dating you."
"Jealous?! You're crazy, Doyeon. Crazy!" I lay my back on the desk, so I won't have to look at her. "And we're definitely not dating."
"It sure didn't look like it."
"Look like it? Seriously? You saw me, and you didn't come save me? Or at least call the police?! As a best friend, you suck."
"I wish I was there, so I could get a long peek at her fine ass." She pauses, and I hear some movement from her direction. "See for yourself."
Doyeon's giant phone lands on my chest. I flip it over and look at the screen. There's an open text on it from one of the #TeamDoyeon girls in our hall. The attachment is a picture of me and Lalisa, walking across the campus quad to Sproul.
With our hands clenched tightly together, we actually do look like a couple. She looks amazing in her suit, and in my fitted black skinny jeans, risqué top, and heeled booties, I look like somebody worthy of her good looks. I would even go as far as saying we look good together.
Even my normally unruly black locks agree with me today, settling neatly below the narrow curve of my waist. My long lashes are coated with black mascara, bringing out the vibrant hazel in my eyes. Though I look exhausted, my clear skin is even naturally flushed at the cheeks. It's from fear, but looking at the picture, I can't tell.
We look good together. Really good.
Doyeon speaks softly, "Look at that, and tell me honestly that you guys wouldn't be good together."
The fight leaves me. I know why Doyeon is pressing the issue. After the second week of school, Doyeon confronted me, informing me that if I'm a lesbian, she would still want to be friends with me.
When I asked her what she was going on about, she said, "Well, you haven't even looked at a guy since I met you."
Clearly, she equates celibacy to lesbianism. I responded by telling her that men will only distract me from my studies, but that isn't the real reason. Lalisa is. For the past month, I haven't been able to focus on anything except my fear of retribution. Doyeon dropped it then, but she hasn't stopped suggesting guys she would love to set me up with.
This is one of those times, except she doesn't know Lalisa and doesn't care that she's a suspected criminal. She also doesn't realize that we've already hooked up… and I never got my happy ending.
Okay, so I'm still hung up on that.
She couldn't wait thirty more seconds?
Oh, and err… obviously the threat to my wellbeing is the most dissuasive part about Lalisa. I can't ignore the fact that she is dangerous and so far out of my league. The hook up feels like a fluke, a lapse in judgement on both her part and mine. Her, because she thinks I'm pathetic. And mine, because I can't even be around her without shaking in my boots.
I sigh. "We look good together, sure, but I want more than that." It's my turn to sound crazy. "I want a guy I can talk to comfortably. Someone who makes me feel safe and wanted and beautiful."
It goes unspoken, but we both know that Lalisa isn't that guy. I don't think she even embodies one of those four qualities. Hell, I'm not even sure why Doyeon thinks she's a realistic option. It isn't like she wants me. It's unlikely that she'll suddenly express interest after calling me, and I quote, "pathetic."
Plus, I asked for her advice on staying alive not dating, but clearly I went to the wrong person.
Doyeon groans. "Ugh, you're depressing me." She sits up and goes to my closet. "Come on. We're going out. Let's find a guy to take your mind off of this. When was the last time you had sex?"
I can't even remember it.
It's not like I'm against sex. I enjoy it, but I've had other priorities—like staying alive in foster care; staying alive despite my psycho ex-foster dad; staying alive while traveling to dangerous countries; and now, well, staying alive despite one very pissed off mobster.
"High school?" I finally answer.
It may have been the end of senior year with Taehyung. We hated each other, but it didn't stop us from having explosive hate sex. I grin at the memories. Doyeon turns to me, slack jawed. I wait for her to say something. She doesn't, which makes me laugh.
"Seriously?" I say, still laughing. "The only thing that renders you silent is my lack of a sex life? I should bring it up more often."
"Ha. Ha. Laugh away, Virgin Mary." She throws something at me. It lands in my lap. "But you'll be thanking me when you get laid tonight."
I look down at what she tossed into my lap. It's my little black dress. The fabric is tight, reaches mid-thigh, and shows an uncomfortable amount of cleavage. It's sexy, sexier than what I'm used to, but when I spotted it at a thrift shop in Morocco, I knew I had to have it.
I remember when one of my many foster mothers told me that every girl should have a little black dress. Something that makes her feel sexy. Confident. On top of the world. This is that dress for me. I still have yet to find the right moment to wear it, but apparently, Doyeon thinks this is it.
So, I give up on bickering over this. I strip and throw it on, because Doyeon is impossible to fight with anyway. She likes to argue in circles until the person she disagrees with gets a headache and gives up. I like my head just how it is, thank you very much.
And honestly, I'd much rather fix my nonexistent sex life than the looming threat Lalisa poses to my well-being. Do I think a night of sex will fix my problems? No, but it'll take my mind away from them. Plus, a few orgasms have never hurt anybody.
Horny Jennie nods her head in agreement and beats her chest from inside the mental cell I stuck her in when Lalisa and I were brushing lips. Looking back, I realize that I've gone full circle. This all started with Lalisa pressing me against the wall in the alleyway outside of Rogue, then Bastian pressing that blonde girl against the wall in the restroom hallway. And finally, a few hours ago, I was in the same position again with Lalisa.
As I get ready, I don't bother with any makeup. I have mascara on, and my face is clear enough that I don't need foundation. We're probably going to a club, where I'll sweat any makeup off anyways. After digging through her bag, Doyeon tosses me a tube of Burt's Bees lip balm.
It's mine.
I roll my eyes as I swipe it across my lips. I'm good to go. I toss the lip balm onto my klepto roommate's bed, where it's immediately lost in the mess. Seriously, I don't know how she finds anything on her side of the room. I don't even know how she sleeps at night when her bed is littered with knick knacks.
When I glance up at her, Doyeon is already dressed. She's wearing another colorful, sequined mini dress. She loves these. In terms of club wear, they're pretty much all she owns. This particular one is a deep turquoise color that complements her pale skin tone.
Doyeon's light blonde hair is coifed into an elegant French twist, and her face is purposefully bare of makeup except for the bold red lipstick she always wears. She once told me that the first thing she wants a man to see when he looks at her is her lips. And after being her roommate for a month, I can vouch that this is exactly what happens whenever a guy looks at her.
Even our R.A. can't help himself.
After putting on another coat of lipstick, Doyeon is done. My favorite thing about her is how she can get ready in under ten minutes. She always knows what she wants to wear, and she doesn't waste time putting on a lot of makeup. Neither of us can afford anything other than the essential products anyway.
We both put on heels—nude pumps for me and red stilettos for her—and walk to the street to wait for the Uber she called a few minutes ago. I don't even know where we are headed until we get there and I immediately regret my friendship with Doyeon.