I nod. “And what if I’ve had enough now that I got my feet wet?”
“You got a few years before you graduate,” he says. “We’ll talk about the future then.”
“King doesn’t have a few years.”
“King, he stepped in the concrete a long time ago,” Dad says. “He’s up to his knees already.”
“And you?” I ask, swallowing hard. “If you’re not in the mafia, why are you letting King work for them? How deep are you?”
Dad sighs, looking resigned. “Sweetheart, the rest of us are neck deep if not up to our eyeballs in it.”
I nod, not sure what else to say. He gave me the answer I wanted, and yet, I didn’t want it. Some cowardly part of me wishes I’d never asked, that I didn’t know. The part that loved when he sheltered me, that never asked even though I could have all those years. The part that liked being the spoiled little daughter of a rich guy with a candy empire, not one that sold chocolate for blood.
As I lie in bed, unable to fall asleep, I think about that thing my parents always said—our blood is thicker than chocolate. It probably always meant more than I let it mean. It meant that her family loyalties, her mob ties, came before business. As hard as my father worked for his company, he always had to remember that the mafia came first. I’m sure they’ve been taking their cut ever since they handed him his first loan, the one Mr. Darling never wanted him to take.
Because, when I let myself admit it, Mr. Darling has never been anything but kind to us. Not exactly friendly and welcoming, but how could I expect him to be after Dad took his idea and ran with it. He was guarded when he came over to talk to Dad, but he wasn’t rude or angry or hateful. No one has ever said a bad thing about him except my own family. Dolly swears up and down he’s a great guy. Devlin would go to jail for him, and even I don’t really believe he had anything to do with Royal’s kidnapping.
What if the Darlings were right about everything? Can I blame them for not wanting our family to come rolling into town with the big guns out, ready to take down the founders of this sweet little southern town? Can I blame them for not wanting to pollute and corrupt their idyllic little community with blood money?
What if, all along, we were the bad guys?
*
“Oh my god, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Dixie says, waving her hands in front of her face like she’s about to faint. We’re in the bathroom at the football game later that night, getting ready for our routine, which has morphed from a complicated cheer into more of a dance routine. But hey, WHPA doesn’t have a dance team, so we’re making up for it tonight.
“You’ll be great,” I say. “We’ve been working on it all week.”
It’s been more than a week, but this week, we’ve practiced it every day, and all of us committed to working at home for a few hours a night. It’s been a welcome distraction from wondering what happened to Royal, dealing with his outbursts, watching my extended family leave and realizing I never really knew them anyway, pretending things are normal, and telling myself that I don’t miss Devlin or regret what I did.
“I know all the moves,” Dixie says, her eyes widening. “It’s not about that.”
“You look amazing,” I assure her.
“You really think so?” she asks, looking from me to Dolly with such hope in her eyes it nearly kills me. I don’t think she’ll ever be less transparent, and I’ve grown to appreciate that about her. I’ve had enough fake bitches to last me my whole life. Still, her need for approval holds up an uncomfortable mirror at times.
Dolly scrutinizes her step-cousin and shakes her head. “You could use some more glitter.”
“Okay, let’s not glitter-bomb everyone,” I say, intersecting the bottle of spray glitter after a prolonged blast coats Dixie’s chest and shoulders. “Are you both ready to show those bitches what they could do with their bodies if they’d take the stick out of their asses?”
“Are you sure these aren’t too short?” Dixie asks, tugging at her cutoffs. “What if everyone laughs at us?”
“They won’t laugh,” I say.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment since they said I was too big for the squad,” Dolly says. “I think they were really just pissed that I dumped one of their gods.”
“Wait, you dumped Devlin?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, leaning close to the mirror to swipe under her lower lip and make sure her gloss isn’t running.
“Why?”I ask, gaping at her.
“I know, right?” Dixie say. “I’d give anything if Colt would ask me out.”
“I thought you had a date after class the other day,” I remind her, giving her a playful poke.
“I know,” she says with a giggle. “I should be grateful. I mean, I am grateful, don’t get me wrong. But to go on a real date…” She sighs and clasps her hands in front of her chest like some starry-eyed preteen. It’s hard not to laugh at her, even though I know she’s seriously that lovestruck. And honestly, who am I to judge?
In the stands, the thunder of stomping feet draws our attention. My nerves surge, and I know it’s time to use them to energize our routine.