eleven
Harper Apple
I get done with my report the next morning and wait for Mr. D to reply. When he does, my teeth clench in fury.
MrD: I need more than your sexual exploits, as fascinating as they are.
BadApple: u said that’s what u wanted
MrD: I indulged you.
BadApple: wtf
BadApple: no
BadApple: ive been indulging u. that’s what u asked 4.
I’m betraying Royal every fucking week, and for what? If he doesn’t want that, why did he ask so many questions the first time?
MrD: What have you found out about the Midnight Swans?
BadApple: it’s a boys club. No girls.
MrD: What else?
BadApple: been kinda busy.
MrD: Semester is coming up. Remember, I am a magician. I make things disappear.
BadApple: Like bodies? Or scholarships?
MrD: Yes.
BadApple: I just told u their dad is prob in the mafia. How is that not wut u want?
MrD: What do you think I can do with that information?
I take a breath to calm myself so I don’t go off on his ass. He’s right. I’m failing. Just like I thought, a teenager saying her boyfriend told her that his dad is in the mob isn’t enough. Even if that boyfriend is his son, it’s not like he told me his dad sinks bodies in that river, and I can have the cops go drag them up as proof.
I took a job, and the job wasn’t to fuck Royal. The job was to find out everything about the Midnight Swans. Mr. D is a pervert, but he still wants the job done in the end. My sexcapades don’t replace that info. I agreed to infiltrate the Swans, and instead, I’ve been distracted by dick. I fed Mr. D info about my sex life because it kept him satisfied while I had my fun and ignored the work I was hired to do.
Fury burns through me, but it’s directed at myself. It’s not like I think Royal knows my mission and has been intentionally luring me away with that godlike, irresistible body because he knows how the scent of money makes me weak and the feeling of power makes me wet. No, he just saw an easy lay, and he took what he wanted, like any guy would. I’m the stupid one, the one who lost my head, my heart. I’m the one who lost sight of reality. I’ve been so busy swearing I’ll never be my mother that I didn’t notice I was walking in her footsteps all along, throwing away my future and everything that matters for allure of good dick.
BadApple: sry. I’ll do better
MrD: How? I need to know exactly what I’m getting out of this, or I’ll think of another way for you to repay me what you already owe, and I’ll find someone else to give me the information I need.
I grit my teeth. Not just because he’s being a dickbag, but because the thought of him finding some other girl to come in and get close to the Dolce boys makes me rage. And most of all, because he’s right.
BadApple: NYE party. I’ll make sure 2 get something 4 u
MrD: You do that.
BadApple: understood
MrD: And make it good. If I don’t have something on the Swans by end of semester, you can return to Faulkner High in January. I told you from the start that you have to do your part.
He also said I’d be sorry if I didn’t take the “opportunity” he was giving me. That part was a fucking lie. I’m sorry I ever engaged with his creepy ass. But now I’m in, and it’s too late to walk away. I owe him.