Prestige, page 4
There weren’t many places she could’ve gone during the day. She settled for a place called Portillo’s, which was most known for its famous cake shake. Vivica kept her on a strict diet. That diet did not include any sweets or “bad” carbs of the sort, but it did include carrot sticks, laxatives, and “techniques” to use in the bathroom after her meals to expunge it all.
Out of spite, Bonnie ordered two chili cheese dogs, fries, and a cake shake. She didn’t care how much of a stomachache she would have later. All she wanted was that teenage experience of eating her feelings.
She heard a snap and saw a flash. Confused, she looked up.
A girl no older than her sat a few tables down. She had a disposable camera aimed at Bonnie, whose photo she’d just taken.
Bonnie opened her mouth to yell, but when the girl lowered her camera, she froze.
She’d seen many other beautiful girls in her life, some arguably prettier, but none of them had ever stolen her breath before, not like this girl. Her sharp, upturned eyes stayed locked on Bonnie’s as if anticipating Bonnie to look away, or shout at her, but Bonnie did nothing except stare right back. She thought the girl was trying to intimidate her at first, but then her eyes lowered to Bonnie’s food. Upon second glance, Bonnie noticed (ironically) how unhealthily thin she looked.
Wiping her face, she gave a head tilt toward the other untouched chili dog. The girl came over in an instant. Almost shyly, she pulled the food toward her. Bonnie tried to be subtle with her regard, starting with the girl’s hands. She had chipped purple nail polish and several rings of different varieties on her fingers. Lifting her gaze, she assessed the girl’s face. She looked Middle Eastern, with a sharp jaw, full pink lips, olive skin, and thick, dark hair.
Realizing she was being watched, the girl looked up and met Bonnie’s eyes. Embarrassed, Bonnie turned away.
“You can have the rest of it,” she said, pushing the fries toward her as well. The girl didn’t hesitate this time and reached for a few. Bonnie sneaked a few more glances, wondering if the girl went to one of the public schools in the area.
They sat there for an awkward minute before Bonnie worked up the courage to speak again.
“Um, may I ask why you took that picture?”
“Why did you order so much food?” the girl responded. The depth of her voice created a hot sensation in Bonnie’s abdomen.
“Because I was hungry, obviously,” Bonnie muttered. She tried another question. “What’s your name?”
The girl stopped eating. She searched Bonnie’s eyes, and for a moment Bonnie was transfixed by hers. They resembled the sky before a storm.
“Artemis,” the girl finally said.
“Artemis what?” Bonnie asked.
“Just Artemis,” Artemis said curtly and went back to eating. Bonnie’s hospitality only got her as far as a first name, apparently. Vivica always taught her to ask for a last name. A last name was more important than a first.
“Okay, ‘Just Artemis,’” Bonnie said. “I’m Bonnie Wilson.”
Artemis nodded and kept eating. Bonnie blinked. She was used to people knowing her. Her face had been on billboards beside her mother at one point—a former marketing campaign about how the Wilson legacy would remain alive and well. Vivica hated it, though. She didn’t want them to be the face of anything. So if this girl really didn’t know who she was, what was she taking photos for?
“You’re not some kind of creep, are you?”
“You’re asking that after sharing your food with me?” Artemis lifted one of her thick brows that had a slit in it. Bonnie crossed her arms and waited, happy to play the long game. Artemis, however, wasn’t. She sighed. “Whenever I think something looks interesting or weird, I take a photo. It’s just something I do.”
“And which category do I fall under?”
“Both.” Artemis lowered her eyes briefly. “Obviously.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Bonnie said, though she’d never been called either of those things.
A long silence passed with Artemis tearing into the food and Bonnie just sitting there. After a while, Bonnie reached for her untouched shake. Her pupils dilated when chocolate goodness burst inside her mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
“Oh my stars,” she gasped. Artemis looked up. “This is so good. Have you ever had it before?”
Artemis shook her head, continuing to watch her. Bonnie looked around until she found a straw dispenser. She ran and grabbed one, then hurried back over to her seat and stuck the second straw inside the cup. She moved the drink in Artemis’s direction, but Artemis didn’t reach for it. Instead, she looked at Bonnie with a peculiar expression.
“What?” Bonnie asked. She wiped her face and made sure nothing was on it.
“I think I’ll also add ‘bizarro’ to your list of characteristics,” Artemis said, finally releasing a chuckle.
A haughty breath escaped Bonnie’s lips. She sat up taller. “Well if I’m so bizarre, give me back my shake.” She reached for it, and her hands overlapped Artemis’s when she went for the cup as well. A jolt of electricity shot up Bonnie’s arm. She quickly pulled back, her eyes widening. By the look on Artemis’s face, and how she stared at Bonnie’s hand, she felt it, too. A strange warmth started in Bonnie’s chest. She cleared her throat. “This is the thanks I get for not letting you starve?”
Artemis met her eyes again. One corner of her mouth lifted into the most attractive smirk Bonnie had ever witnessed.
“Who says I was starving?” Artemis asked. She put the drink back on the table between them. “Maybe I’m just a bad person who’s good at making people feel sympathetic and likes to pick their pockets—or in this case, your lunch—because I feed on their gullibility.”
Bonnie considered it for a moment, then she shook her head. “Nah. I think you were just starving.” She leaned forward and took another sip.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Artemis asked.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I’ve never had the best attendance record.” Artemis’s eyes stayed on Bonnie’s face, but Bonnie didn’t want to meet her gaze again, afraid it might suck her in for eternity with no hope (or want) to return.
She kept drinking her shake and closed her eyes in satisfaction. The table moved. When Bonnie opened her eyes, she found Artemis inches away from her face, sipping the shake from her straw. Gasping, she pulled away. The shake went down the wrong pipe and she ended up choking. She glared across the table at Artemis, whose laugh spread through the restaurant, earning them a few looks as a result.
“What is wrong with you?” Bonnie asked, her heart racing.
“What? I thought we were sharing?” Artemis asked innocently, then took another sip. “Mm. That is good.” She licked her lips.
Bonnie’s cheeks went up in flames watching Artemis’s tongue slide over her top lip. Her nostrils flared. “You clearly enjoy getting a reaction out of people.”
“Not everyone. Just yours,” Artemis said.
Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “What school do you go to?”
“Lincoln. When I feel like it, that is. You?”
“Walter Payton.”
Artemis snorted. “That checks out.”
“Meaning?” Bonnie asked.
“Just that you private school kids all have a certain look. That’s all.”
“What kind of look are you talking about?” Bonnie asked. The nerve of this girl! She very much regretted sharing half of her cake shake.
Shrugging, Artemis took a bite of her fries. “The kind of look where having even the slightest scuff on your Air Maxes will get you flamed until your rich mommy or daddy buys you a new pair.”
Bonnie wanted to disagree, but realizing the truth in Artemis’s words, she leaned back in her chair.
“Fair enough.”
“So, what are you doing skipping school, Bonnie Wilson?” Artemis asked. Bonnie ignored the flutters in her stomach hearing her full name out of this mysterious girl’s mouth. “You don’t strike me as the school skipping type.”
“You make a lot of assumptions.”
“Have I been wrong so far?”
“…Not necessarily.” Bonnie paused briefly and grabbed one of the last remaining fries as she thought about how to answer the question. “I don’t expect you to relate to my preppy privileged lifestyle, but basically my mom is awful and wants to marry me off to the most successful bachelor so that he can take over our billion-dollar company that my father left for the man of the house.”
“Long live the patriarchy,” Artemis said, chuckling. “But aren’t you a little too young for that?”
“I’m seventeen,” Bonnie said. Even though she also used that as an argument against Vivica that same morning, she wanted to seem mature in Artemis’s eyes. “Besides, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. My brother was supposed to take over as CEO once my father stepped down.”
“What happened?”
“He shot himself in the head with a revolver.”
Artemis’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”
Bonnie nodded and went back to sipping her shake. “My father passed away a year after that. So now it’s just my mom and me. And to earn my inheritance, I have to get married.”
“Dude, that sounds fucking awful,” Artemis said.
Bonnie nodded. She surprised herself by being so forthcoming about her situation. She never liked recounting or talking about it for personal reasons, and because Vivica forbade her. No one knew what life looked like inside the walls of the Wilson family household. All they knew was what Vivica allowed them to see. They were all puppets, and Bonnie played the leading role.
“What if you just told her no?” Artemis asked.
Bonnie let out a dry laugh. “You don’t say no to my mom. And if you do, you’ll never live to see the next day.”
“Your life sounds like one of those shows that comes on during the daytime for old people.”
“You mean a soap opera?” Bonnie asked, feeling a surge of endearment.
“Yeah. One of those,” Artemis said.
Bonnie redirected the question. “What about you? Are your parents proud members of society who are disappointed in your life choices and partially shaved brow?”
Artemis laughed for a moment and brushed her hands through her short hair. Bonnie found herself oddly fascinated by the gesture.
“I wouldn’t know. I never knew my birth parents.”
“Oh…” Bonnie’s eyes lowered in apology. An ache started in her chest for the girl whose last name she didn’t know. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Artemis shrugged it off. “No big deal.”
“So you’re adopted?” Bonnie asked, treading lightly.
“I’ll spare you the details and confusion and just say yes.”
Bonnie nodded and decided not to press any further. She looked around and noticed the lunch rush had ended and they were one of the only few people left in the restaurant. Chewing on her lip, she thought about what to do now. There were only so many places she could go without getting busted by a truancy officer, but the urge to be rebellious hit her even harder while under Artemis’s curious gaze.
Inhaling, she asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”
A slow, conspiring grin spread across Artemis’s face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Maybe Bonnie should’ve taken that as a sign of what the future had in store for them. That “Just Artemis” would simultaneously ruin her life and give it new meaning. She should’ve considered how maybe two people’s lives, already complicated on their own, would only get more complicated as they attempted to merge them. She should’ve known they were doomed from the start.
But with no knowledge of what lay ahead of them, Bonnie grinned back.
five
Every Saturday since the beginning of spring, Bonnie attended local farmers’ markets with Marcus. They paraded around the venue hand-in-hand to demonstrate their love for the community and each other. Constituents swarming them wasn’t new, but now that their engagement had made the front page of every local newspaper in Illinois, the crowd doubled.
“You must be thrilled!” Bonnie heard. Followed by, “You’re one lucky girl!” and “Marcus is perfect!”
She cheesed her way through the comments and even flashed her ring now and then when she saw a photographer nearby.
Running into Artemis might have shaken the ground under her feet, but Bonnie kept herself upright, moving on like nothing happened at all. It wasn’t that hard, considering she had an entire wedding to plan in three months. Two days after the engagement, Vivica booked every bridal boutique in town for dress shopping. Then there were the congratulations cards Bonnie had to respond to, as well as setting up tea times with “important” political wives.
“I’m assuming you’ll be moving into a bigger house, right?” asked an older woman with a basket of apples on her arm. Bonnie recognized her as a city councilman’s wife.
“Why would we?” Bonnie asked.
“Well, for the kids, of course! How many are you guys thinking? Three? Four? Five?”
Bonnie needed a break after that. She slipped off Marcus’s arm and told him she needed to cool off in the car for a minute. It was eighty-five degrees out and only ten in the morning.
“Be back in fifteen minutes,” Marcus said, giving her the keys. “The event coordinators want a photo for social media.”
When Bonnie got away from the crowd, she breathed a little easier, especially without Marcus beside her. But that didn’t last long.
“Well if it isn’t the lovely future Mrs.,” said Candice Wooster. Her blond ponytail swung obnoxiously as she approached. She flashed a full smile, and Bonnie swore she saw fangs.
“Hello, Candice,” Bonnie said, forcing a pleasant tone. As if she didn’t have enough in her life to complain about, Candice made existing that much harder with her shitty blog. They started as acquaintances, and Candice would put out fluff pieces now and then about Bonnie. But once her relationship with Marcus turned serious, a switch flipped. Suddenly, Bonnie became enemy number one to Candice and her shrilling sheep who had nothing else to do but gossip about Bonnie in a text box that could only fit three hundred characters at a time.
Candice had a notepad and pen in her hand. “Would you mind giving me a quote for today’s blog?”
“I’m sure Marcus can help you with that,” Bonnie said, folding her arms. If Marcus only had one fan, it would be Candice. She would probably foam at the mouth if Bonnie threw his dirty bath water at her.
“Oh, yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be checking in with him soon.” Candice winked.
“I’m sure you will.” Bonnie tried to get past, but Candice sidestepped her.
“The quote?” Candice asked. She held up her phone for Bonnie to speak clearly into. The heat, mixed with her pestering, boiled Bonnie’s nerves. She smiled through it anyway.
“I’m so happy to be here in support of these incredible local businesses. They are the pillar of making Chicago an incredible place to live…”
She didn’t need a script to say things she knew to be fact. Vivica took her to farmers’ markets all the time as a teen. Many of the store owners gave her things for free or let her hang out at their stands while Vivica worked the crowd. It was something Vivica used to do with Tyson. Benjamin called them the “dynamic duo,” because, like Vivica, Ty also had a way of impressing his peers and adults with his natural charisma and way with words. Both things Bonnie failed to have. She blamed it on their age difference at first. She couldn’t possibly compare to her brother, who was eight years older than her. But as time went on, she realized that she just didn’t have it like Ty did. He could hold conversations with older people without a sweat, mesmerizing them with his dashing smile, tawny skin, and confident stature. It made perfect sense why Vivica and Benjamin fell apart after he took his life.
But keeping those memories of Tyson alive in Bonnie wasn’t the only reason Vivica visited the market. As always, her actions came with hidden agendas. Once Benjamin died, many thought the Wilson family line died with him. Vivica had to prove them wrong, so they waltzed through the market together, heads held high, appearing self-assured and strong. Vivica always kept her eyes forward, but Bonnie couldn’t ignore the looks and whispers they would receive, some of pity, others of envy, and a lot of admiration for Vivica. Bonnie used to fall into the latter group of people. She would admire her mother’s beauty and confidence to the point where she would stand in the mirror late at night practicing her smile and posture. When Vivica caught her once at three in the morning doing it, she offered Bonnie tips rather than yelling at her about being up on a school night. Those tips paid eventually off.
“Well?” said Candice, pulling Bonnie out of her thoughts.
“Huh?” Bonnie blinked.
“I asked how you were feeling about your fiancé’s electoral run,” Candice said, giving an innocent look, but she was far from innocent, and Bonnie knew a trap when she saw one.
“Great. He’s doing a fantastic job, and I have no doubt he’ll serve this community well just as the people in his family did before him.” She nodded at herself in approval, happy with yet another unscripted response. Take that, Marcus.
“So you’re saying with those nepotism roots so ingrained, he’s a shoo-in for governor?” Candice asked.
What. A. Cunt.
“Goodbye, Candice,” Bonnie said.
When she got to the car, she sat in the driver’s seat and pushed it down all the way so no one could see her.
Candice was probably searching for Marcus right now to relay that misquote. If only she knew Bonnie didn’t care if she pulled her pants down and asked Marcus to fuck her right there in front of everyone.
Most of her life was a performance. Lately, it had gotten even worse. The microscope she stood under could fit a thousand eyes. She was never the center of attention growing up, and rarely anyone paid attention to her when her father and Tyson were right there. As far as most people knew, Bonnie was the spare—the quiet one who did as told and only had to worry about looking pretty. Meanwhile, all the men in her life were gawked at. Her father was an incredible business leader, and Tyson was his charming and personable successor. Marcus might as well have been named Illinois’s beacon of hope with the way people praised him and his family. Bonnie was always just… there.
