Satan's Revenge (26 page)
Authors: Celia Loren
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #New Adult & College, #Contemporary Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Crime
“It was your choice not to study something practical,” my mom says. “You know we would have paid the way if you’d gone for math, or science—”
“But I didn’t. I chose to study the thing I’m actually passionate about. Are you familiar with the term, passionate?” I fume.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Logan,” my mother warns.
“Don’t talk to me as though I’m a petulant child,” I shoot back.
“Then stop acting like one,” she all but hisses, “And keep your voice down. We’re in public, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Why don’t we all just take a breath and order some lunch, OK?” my dad puts in, trying to play the peacekeeper. “Let us treat you to a nice meal, Logan.”
“Sorry Dad,” I say firmly. “I seem to have lost my appetite. Besides, I wouldn’t want to go on mooching off your generosity. I think I’d better just leave you to it.”
“You’re overreacting, Logan,” my mom sighs, “But if you must go blow off some steam, then by all means do so. We’ll see you at the ceremony tomorrow.”
“Actually Mom, I don’t think I’ll be attending the graduation ceremony,” I say, rising to my feet. “But you two are welcome to go and have a good time.”
“Why are you doing this?” my mom hisses. “Why can’t you just show us a little bit of respect, Logan?”
“Because you can’t seem to show me any in return,” I say sadly. “Maybe, once I’ve shown you that I can take care of myself and do what I love, you’ll start to see what I’m made of. But honestly, Mom, I’m not holding my breath. Enjoy your lunch.”
I turn away from my parents and hurry away from their table. The last thing I want is for them to see the disappointed, frustrated tears that stream down my cheeks. Nothing I’ve done has ever been good enough for them, but I honestly thought that this job might finally be the thing to impress them. Maybe even convince them that I’m as determined and intelligent as they always hoped I would be. I guess that was just more empty, wishful thinking.
Boston is absolutely packed with happy families in the midst of graduation festivities. I pick my way through the boisterous, smiling groups as I walk back to my apartment, unable to hold back my tears. I’d give anything to have a whole, supportive, loving family. A group that always had my back, no matter what. Maybe Juliet had the right idea, seeking one out somewhere else.
By the time I finally make it back to my apartment, I feel like I’ve been hit by a wrecking ball. Emma is out gallivanting with her artsy friends for the afternoon, so the apartment is totally empty. I glance around at the threadbare space, listening to the muffled city sounds filtering through the walls. I don’t think I’ve ever left this lonely in my life. With no one around to see me, I sink onto the dusty hardwood floor and have the good, honest cry that’s been building up for longer than I care to admit.
I don’t know how much time goes by before I feel like I can solider on. By my tears have been of the restorative type, it would seem. By the time I rise shakily to my feet once more, I’ve come to a decision. I’m not going to let doubt or uncertainty hold me back any longer. So what if I don’t have a support system holding me up? That’s not going to stop me from stepping out onto the high wire any longer...no matter how risky and downright insane that might be.
With steely determination, I sit myself down in front of my laptop and compose a new email to Elliot Simmons.
Hi Elliot,
It was really wonderful meeting you this afternoon. I’m so thrilled that you called me in discuss a position at FootSoldier. I know I told you that I’d like the day to think about your offer, but a few hours have been plenty. I’d be happy to accept my first assignment—the story we discussed this morning—and will begin working on it immediately. Thank you again for giving me this incredible opportunity. You won’t regret it, I promise you.
Sincerely,
Logan Farrah
I’ve only just hit send and stood up from my desk when a response from Elliot comes whizzing into my inbox.
Logan,
Fantastic news. Glad to have you with us. Go ahead and start your preliminary research at once. You’ll have all the resources you need from FootSoldier along the way, that I can assure you. You’re going to do a great job—let me know if you have any questions.
Cheers,
E.S.
You’re going to do a great job. I read those words over and over again. Encouragement is such an unfamiliar concept to me that it almost feels like a foreign language. But no more moping about that. I’ve got work to do.
I spend the rest of the evening combing through my classmates’ social media pages, university forums, and obscure chatrooms, searching for ways into The Club. It’s surprisingly easy to figure out which of my college acquaintances have been there before. In no time, I stumble upon a Facebook exchange between a few well-off girls who lived in my freshman year dorm. Their ringleader, a girl named Kari, seems hell-bent on visiting The Club, and is trying to talk her friends Ani and Brie into coming along. Bingo.
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