eight
Harper Apple
By the time we leave the remains of the party, dawn lights up the eastern sky. Baron has the whole thing coordinated down to the last car, which has to leave first. The cops are gone, though I assume they showed up at some point. The house is not a house anymore, just a shell. It looks sad and broken in the harsh light of morning, with just the supports and some of the outer walls remaining. I should feel guilty about helping demolish it, fucking Royal on a stranger’s bed, and stealing a leather jacket from the closet. But all I can think about is that the crime of living that lifestyle while I live in a dump in gangland is worse than what I did.
Royal drops me off at home, but he opens the window, calls me around, and grabs my hand, pulling me back down to kiss me, like he can’t quite say goodbye, either. “Keep that pussy shaved for me over break,” he says. “I’ll pick you up on Monday.”
I nod and kiss him back, relieved to be on good terms with him again, even if he didn’t give me what I wanted. I’m not sure he ever will. But he gives me what he can, and for now, I tell myself it’s enough. He couldn’t tell me he wasn’t fucking Gloria, but he still wants to fuck me. I’m just going to have to be patient, to wait for him to reveal himself when he’s ready.
Not my strong point, that’s for damn sure.
I head inside and collapse onto the bed.
In the morning, I open the OnlyWords app on the computer to fill in Mr D. But there’s already a message waiting, from someone I’ve never messaged before. I open it, my heart pounding before I even read it.
SilverSwan: Is this Harper Apple’s account?
I stare at the message, a knot of dread in my stomach. I should be excited to dig in deeper, to find out if this person is a member of the club Mr. D asked about, but all I can think is that I’m already standing between the Dolces and their sworn enemies, and I’m barely able to convince myself I’ll make it out alive. I don’t need one more mystery, a million questions without answers, or one more person who knows more about me than I do them.
BadApple: Who’s asking???
SilverSwan: I am.
BadApple: Who r u?
SilverSwan: Thank you.
BadApple: idk what ur talking about
SilverSwan: For what u did 4 Lindsey.
BadApple: who is this?
There’s no answer. My heart is hammering. Is it Mr. D, on another account? Did he not want me to know that he’s Lindsey’s dad for some reason? Or is it someone else, someone who might have gotten word about the house from someone who was there? I remember Colt’s words at the diner. There are still Darling allies in this town, hidden away, where the Dolces won’t see them. But it has to be a Darling, or someone close to them, if he’s thanking me for saving Lindsey. And it wouldn’t be Chase London, since he doesn’t go to WHPA and couldn’t be Midnight Swan.
BadApple: R u a Midnight Swan?
SilverSwan: If u need anything, lmk.
BadApple: I need 2 know who u r
SilverSwan: A man who always pays his debts.
I jerk my hands back from the keyboard, a shiver running down my spine like it did the first time Mr D messaged me. How many Darlings are there? And why do they keep finding me? I didn’t save Lindsey so anyone would be in my debt. I don’t want a reward. I just did it in the spur of the moment because I know what it’s like to be a target, and she didn’t look like she could handle it herself. But for some reason, this Darling’s last comment freaks me out more than if he’d come right out and threatened me. What the fuck does that even mean, someone who pays his debts?
And if he pays his debts, he should know that he doesn’t owe me shit. I owe them, all the Darlings. I took their scholarship. I got Colt nearly killed. I took his sister’s clothes. I went to a party at one of their homes, helped trash it, and danced in the ruins. I stole a jacket from Preston’s closet and came so hard for his enemy that his Egyptian cotton sheets were ruined by the time we were done.
When I think of all the things I’ve done since meeting Royal, I don’t feel like a very good person. And I know I said it would take a person as bad as they are to end their reign, but do I really want to become like them if that’s what it takes to bring them down?
The lines in my life are blurring until I can’t tell pleasure from pain, fear from desire, and worst of all, reality from the game. I’ve walked too long in Wonderland, and it makes me feel off-balance when I step out of that world, as if I’m no longer sure who I am and what I want in my own world. I fucking hate it.
I detail the night to Mr. D, from the frenzy at the start of the party to the dark turn at the end, where everything was ugly, and I saw football players shitting in the hot tub and Cotton Montgomery carrying an unconscious girl to his Jeep. After signing off with him, I pause before closing the little black chat box. My mind keeps returning to the Silver Swan, who always pays his debts. It sounds like a threat. And I need info for Mr. D, anyway.
So I type in a message in the chat box.
BadApple: were u at the party last night?
WHGossipgrrl: no but I heard abt it. U?