“She really does,” Susanna says. “It’s a little unfortunate.”
“Hey,” Dixie says. “It’s not like I stop you from gossiping about them.”
“Because then you’d have no platform,” Quinn says.
“Anyway, about the Waltons,” Susanna says, grinning as she goes back to the gossip that, apparently, Dixie approves of despite liking them. “I heard they’re actually part oftheWalton family.”
“I heard they’re just super rich and don’t correct people who think that,” Quinn says. “Theywantpeople to think they’re Arkansas royalty.”
Dixie leans in, her voice lowering as she relays the gossip. “Point is, they think because there are three of them, and three Dolces, that they’re destined by god to end up together or something along those lines. They’re… Territorial.”
“Don’t let me stand in their way,” I say.
“Don’t try to,” Quinn says, casting a dark look at the Waltons. I take it she was a target of their vitriol, and I’m not eager to get more of it. I have zero time in my life for that kind of drama.
“I know they’re mean, but I kinda feel bad for them,” Dixie says. “I mean, they’re obsessed with those boys, and the feeling is definitely not mutual. I think the Dolces just humor them so they can keep getting the milk for free, if you know what I mean.”
“They’re not the Dolces’ girlfriends?” I ask.
Susanna snorts. “Definitely not. I hear Royal has a girlfriend in college, and the other two go through a different girl every weekend. Sometimes it’s the Waltons, sometimes not.”
“They haven’t had a girlfriend since Mabel Darling, and I’m not sure I’d call her a girlfriend since they were just setting her up to take a fall.”
“Last year was cray-cray,” Susanna sings. “I hope there’s as much drama this year. I love that shit as long as I’m not part of it.”
“You really don’t want to be part of it when the Dolces are involved,” Dixie says. “I can’t decide which one is scariest.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, cocking a brow. But I’m remembering those eerie, empty eyes of his, and I’m not so cavalier beneath the surface.
“You’d think,” Quinn says. “But I heard Baron’s, like, the mastermind behind everything they do.”
“Yeah, and Duke’s the kind of dude who would light you on fire and dance around while you burned,” Susanna says. “My vote’s on him.”
They’ve obviously never spent any time staring into the abyss of Royal’s eyes, or they’d know that he’s the scary one. He wouldn’t even dance around while you burned. He’d just sit there watching with no emotion.
“I hear they have a little black book,” Quinn says. “If they call, you can’t say no. You have to go and let them do whatever they want to you. And it might be super twisted.”
“Why would anyone agree to that?” I ask.
“Because they called,” Dixie says, widening her eyes like I’m missing something obvious. “You can’t say no to the Dolces. They take anything they want, and no one stops them. You couldn’t if you tried. They run this town, Harper. I don’t think you realize the influence they have.”
Just then, the Walton girls come mincing past, each of them trailed by a nervous looking girl carrying a plate.
“Good morning, Gossip Girls,” says the one Dixie pointed out as Gloria, though it’s hard to tell them apart with all that flawless makeup and matching outfits. Looking at that much perfection is a bit blinding.
“Hey, Lo,” Dixie says.
“Anything new on the blog?” Her voice is cheerful and sweetly accented with southern charm, but I can’t tell if she’s faking the benevolent smile.
“Not yet,” Dixie says. “I’ll have it up tonight.”
“Looks like y’all forgot to take out the trash,” says Everleigh, wrinkling her nose at me.
“You’re so right,” I say, imitating their sweet-as-candy tone. “Let me take you out right now.”
Eleanor huffs with indignation. The girl behind her cowers visibly. All three of them are just standing there waiting, and I realize they’re actually holding the Waltons’ plates like little servant girls.
“I’ve got some advice for you,” Gloria hisses at me, her eyes narrowing into ugly slits. She leans down, enveloping me in a cloud of sweet, flowery perfume that contradicts the savage look in her eyes. She grits out three words, each one coming slow and fierce. “Know—your—place.”