Page 91 of Power
“Are you folding, as in you’re out?” Axel asked.
“When you guys grew up,” I continued, ignoring him, “if you got in trouble, what would happen?”
“Is this your version of Never Have I Ever? Because we need more tequila for that,” Axel said, reaching for his drink.
“Let’s say a”—I hesitated, thinking of the pervert boss Scarlett had mentioned—“teacher had done something inappropriate. What would have happened?”
“Dude, we’re playing poker. What the hell?” Axel snarled, throwing his cards down. “Did you get into some kind of philosophical edibles?”
“Where is this coming from?” Blake wondered, studying my face. “You’ve been weird since you walked in. Usually, you’re trash-talking Axel’s receding hairline by now.”
“My hairline is not receding, asshole,” Axel retorted, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. It wasn’t receding, but Blake loved to make him think it was. He even cited (fake) medical “evidence” to goad him.
“Did a teacher do something to you, but you waited until your mid-thirties to tell someone?” Ryker asked with a smirk. “Should I get my doll so you can point to the parts?”
“Just answer the question,” I said, my tone sharp.
The guys looked at each other like I’d lost my mind.
“Is this about a woman?” Ryker asked, his eyes narrowing. “You actually look like you give a damn about something other than the next acquisition.”
“He’s got that look my parents’ dog used to get when they left for work,” Axel chimed in. “Complete confusion and existential dread.”
“Okay … in your strange hypothetical question,” Ryker answered, steering us back on topic, “if a teacher did something like that when I was younger, I’d probably just want to shut my mouth.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I’d want to pass the class. It would be pretty foolish, pissing off the teacher responsible for my grade by ratting them out.”
“I’d get my ass beat if I brought trouble home,” Blake added casually, arranging his chips. “Foster dad number three wasn’t big on ‘making waves.’”
Jesus. Scarlett was right. I knew she was right, of course; everything she had said to me made complete sense. But it was still hitting me in waves, the unfairness of it all.
“If the teacher had done something inappropriate to me, my family would’ve made one phone call and gotten them fired,” I said quietly.
The guys exchanged a look.
“Can we please get back to poker? I raise you twenty,” Axel said, pushing chips forward. “And, Jace, if you play that sad puppy face as a bluff, I swear to God …”
“Dude, what is up with you tonight?” Blake asked, studying me.
“Privilege,” I said, the word tasting strange in my mouth. “Power. And all the things that it impacts. But, specifically, how it affords me the opportunity to hold other people accountable for their actions while simultaneously letting me off the hook for my own.”
“Jesus, dude, I didn’t come here for a therapy session,” Axel groaned, reaching for his drink. “I came here to take your money and make fun of your designer shoes.”
“If I wanted to feel bad about my life choices, I’d call my mother,” Ryker added, downing his drink.
“Jace, what is going on?” Blake asked, his tone shifting to genuine concern.
“I’m falling in love with Scarlett.” There … I said it out loud.
Another look was exchanged.
“That’s what this is about?” Axel said. “You’re ruining poker night because you have feelings? God, you’re worse than Ryker when he discovered poetry in college.”
“That was a phase,” Ryker defended. “And I still say my sonnet about beer pong was underappreciated.”
“She’s making me realize that we come from two different worlds,” I continued, ignoring them. “When I want something, people help me get it. And when I speak, I’m believed. And if I do something wrong, people will be there to try and clean up the mess. All while she’s afforded none of those things.”
