I sigh and start picking up. I can’t do much about living in a shitty brick house that smells like a bar, but that doesn’t mean the inside needs to look like the aftermath of a frat party.
I toss empties, clean the ashtrays, and rub down everything with cleaner. By the time I’m done, the house is put back together, and my stomach is growling like a lion. Since the car is gone, I can’t go to the store, though, so I distract myself by sitting down at the computer. Unsurprisingly, I have several message from Mr. D asking why I missed my Friday check-in.
I close my eyes, feeling more guilty than ever as I start filling him in. Every time I do this, it feels worse than the last week. Especially now, when I care about Royal—more than I want to. But he made it clear I was just supposed to be his booty call, so fuck him. He didn’t give me a twenty-five-thousand-dollar scholarship. When he’s ready to treat me as good as Mr. D, I’ll stop owing Mr. D information about him. So, I go through the day on Friday, and the game, and the party. I hesitate before diving into the rest, but I know I have to tell him.
The stuff about Mr. Dolce will be what he wants the most. That’s the information that might get the family in most trouble, that could take them down. It’s the closest I’ve come to the beating heart of the beast. So, I keep going, because I’m a fighter and this is what I vowed to do, no matter how much it hurts me. Nobody walks away from a good fight without a few scars, badges that said you were tough enough to take the pain not just from their punches but from your own.
BadApple: he took me to his house n I met his dad
MrD: What was he like?
BadApple: Total creep
MrD: What did he do?
BadApple: Basically said we cud hook up n I should keep quiet about it
MrD: Did you do it?
BadApple: gross no. He’s like 40. I’m still a minor ffs
MrD: 17 is legal here.
BadApple: of course u kno that
MrD: Of course I do. ; )
BadApple: maybe u should stop fighting the dolces n join forces. U cud b pervy besties.
MrD: Were you tempted?
BadApple: that wud b a no
MrD: You said you’d let me fuck you, and you don’t even know who I am. I could be hideous.
BadApple: there was more 2 that
MrD: What else?
BadApple: He might be a drunk. Def a helicopter parent. He misses his daughter. offered 2 take me home today. Says he cleans up his sons messes. Maybe re: abortions???
MrD: What about Royal?
BadApple: he took me home
I’m not about to go into the pregnancy scare thing. Some things are personal.
MrD: Did you let him fuck you?
BadApple: How is that relevant?
MrD: I ask questions, you answer. Remember?
BadApple: yes
MrD: Yes, you remember, or yes, he fucked you?
BadApple: yes