fourteen
Harper Apple
The next day is Friday, and I have next to nothing for Mr. D. I feel weird messaging him, wondering if I stood beside him and talked to him just last night, if he’s going to say something that gives away that he already knows I didn’t follow the boys to the Swans meeting.
Instead, he just reiterates that if I don’t give him anything by the time school starts, my scholarship won’t be waiting. Some other poor sap will attempt the feat of getting to know the Dolce boys and their secrets. I wonder how many have come before me, or if I’m the first. Then I picture Blue getting the messages, how much she needs a break like I got. She’d take it in a heartbeat, just like I did. Anyone would. I’ve been given a gift, and I fucked it all up.
But I didn’t go through all this shit just to end up right back where I started. If I lose my scholarship and go back to Faulkner, it’ll all be for nothing. All the work, selling my integrity one dirty message at a time, the battle of getting to know Royal that’s like swimming upstream until I think I can’t take another stroke without fucking perishing… It’ll all be wasted.
Which is why Sunday has me parked in the lot of the Hockington Hotel like the stalker Royal says I am. He wouldn’t answer when I asked if he was fucking Gloria, and she changed the subject when I brought up their meetings. But that’s not my only concern. Sure, I’d like to know if he’s exposed me to anything, but I’ve halfway rationalized my way out of that like a dumb bitch who’s too far gone to admit the truth. He’s already fucked Gloria, and she’s not interested in anyone else, so if she had any diseases, they would have shown up on his test. And he’s not my boyfriend. He can stick his dick wherever it will fit, as long as he’s not risking my health in the process.
But most of all, I’m desperate. I need the family secrets, need the skeletons in their closet to start talking. If I can’t get something on the Swans before school starts, at least I can get something on Royal, something that will buy me another week with Mr. D. If I can get a secret juicy enough to take down the Dolces, maybe that’ll buy me the rest of the year at Willow Heights. If not, at least it will give Mr. D hope that I’m not worthless, that he can trust me to infiltrate the Midnight Swans if I just have a little more time.
Mom sold the truck and went on a binge over New Year’s, which means I had to pull some strings to get here. I wasn’t about to stake out the hotel in a car Royal’s seen, so Blue’s was out of the question. Which left me peeling off yet another twenty from my stash that seems to shrink instead of growing each week, and I borrowed Mr. Hertz’s latest junker for the task.
I shift in the seat, remembering the first time I tried spying on the Dolces, when I realized I suck at this. I’m too impatient to sit here for hours while nothing happens.
But something will happen, I remind myself. Royal made it very clear that I’m not allowed to bother him on Sundays, and Dixie told me why. Royal and Gloria will show up at some point.
Are they getting a shipment of drugs and selling it out of here? Making bad porn? Is he pimping her out?
Or maybe they’re just fucking, and you’re fucking stupid, a little voice in my head says. Am I so desperate to believe I matter to him that I’ve deluded myself into believing a straightforward affair is some big a criminal scheme? If anything, Lo has more claim to him than I do. She’s fiercely loyal and protective of him. Anyone with a brain can see she loves him. Plus, she’s his original Dolce girl. She’s been his girl for over a year. I’m the mistress.
What right do I have to come down here acting like the wronged woman?
I’m going crazy with boredom from sitting in the car so long, and I’m so irritated with myself that I’m about to leave when I see a black Range Rover turn into the lot. I fight the urge to sit up straight and gawk.
Well, holy fucking shit. Dixie was right.
I lean the seat back until I can barely see out the window, waiting for the car to park. Royal climbs out the driver’s side, and Gloria climbs down from the passenger seat, a duffle over her shoulder. My mind races through the possibilities. Drugs? Money? Camera equipment?
Royal is wearing dress pants, a button shirt, and a tie, like he’s going to school but without his blazer. He looks… Like Royal. Pissed, tense, and unhappy. His jaw is set, and he barely glances at Gloria, though she’s talking and gesturing as they walk toward the hotel. She’s wearing jeans and a hoodie, but she’s in full makeup and as gorgeous as usual. Even moreso, since she looks totally chill, unlike at school, when she’s always putting up the bitch front.
They walk up to the front of the hotel, lingering by one of the columns before the entrance, where cars can pull in and park for a minute if they need to unload. Gloria leans against the pillar, propping one foot up behind her. Royal pulls something out of his pocket and lights up. He offers the joint to Gloria, who glances around, looking more nervous now. She turns her back to the lot, Royal blocking her from view from the other direction, so she can take a few tokes.
Big deal, the prissy little mean girl smokes pot. After seeing her throw down in the hall with me and then street race, I’m zero percent surprised.
My former irritation ramps up again.
Then Gloria gives Royal a little wave and heads inside with the duffel while he waits. I chew on a hangnail, my heart thudding as I wait for his connection to show up. After a few minutes, he checks his phone, then slips it back into his pocket and turns toward the back of the lot. A well-dressed lady walks over from that direction. She stops to talk to him for a minute, and I’m about to slide back down in the seat, thinking she’s just asking directions, so she’ll have an excuse to talk to a guy who looks like Royal. But then she bats his arm in a weirdly flirtatious way, ducking her head and laughing at something he’s saying.
He lights the joint back up, cocking a brow and holding it out to her. She waves it away, covering her heart like she’s scandalized. Royal steps forward, puts an arm around her back, and bends her backwards like…
Fuuuuuck.
When Dixie said he dated older girls, I thought she meant that—older girls. Not older women. This lady must be twice his age at least.
Royal kisses her full on the mouth, and I try not to be sick.
It’s not because she’s a lot older. Whatever floats your boat. My mother has been telling me that grown men will want to fuck me since before I got my first period. Hell, I offered to fuck Mr. D, and I’ve given Behr plenty of blowjobs. Age is a number.
But seeing Royal kiss someone else gives me a physical reaction I am not prepared for. Seeing her then step back and cough out the smoke he breathed into her mouth, the exact way he did to me when he kissed me outside his house the first day I tried stalking him, makes me just about lose my shit. I’m tempted to march right over to them and give them both a piece of my mind.
Instead, I lay back on the seat and squeeze my eyes closed and remind myself to breathe, that he’s not mine and never pretended to be. If my fool heart forgot that, that’s on me, not him.
I sit up just in time to see them disappear inside the sliding glass doors of the hotel, Royal’s hand at the small of her back.
I sit there for a while, gathering my thoughts. Okay, so Royal fucks older women. Or maybe she’s selling him pot, what the hell do I know. Either way, it’s not some big scandal. A little scandal, maybe, if everyone at school knew what his ‘older girls’ really looked like. But nothing Mr. D can use.