“I think their dad’s the one pulling the strings,” I say. “We need a way to take him out. I’m living there now, but I’m still not sure how to find what I need.”
“Wisteria,” Gloria says. “If you can wait until spring.”
“The flower?” Colt asks.
“Girls best friend,” she says lightly. “In lethal doses.”
“You’re terrifying,” Colt says, leaning around her to retrieve the joint from me. “So, Teeny, what exactly do you need?”
“Information,” I say. “Something to prove he’s doing something illegal.”
“Right,” Colt says, nodding. “We all know he’s not just selling ‘candy.’ Or making it. But the closest we ever got was when Preston put glass in a batch of Dolce Crystals.”
“That’s fucked up,” I say, but my mind is only halfway present. I’m remembering something Baron said on the bridge—that he and Mr. Dolce had their own thing going, so he wasn’t doing what Royal did at the Hockington. He had to mean drugs.
“So Baron’s making Blue Pearl, and you think Mr. Dolce’s selling it?”
“He wouldn’t get his hands dirty,” Gloria says. “Even the twins don’t sell. Dawson had exclusive dealing rights at Willow Heights last spring, when it first hit the scene.”
I fight the urge to shudder. I know why. Dawson was their best friend, bonded by their shameful act, just like a Midnight Swans ritual.
“So, one of their friends will be selling now,” I say. “Maybe I can find out through the Swans.”
Gloria takes a dainty little puff on the joint. “Rylan’s the dealer this year,” she says. “That’s why they let him in even though he’s not like their other friends. Outside here, though, they’ve got a bunch of lowlifes selling. Never their own family.”
“Of course,” I say, shaking my head. “Colin was the main hookup at FHS, but he graduated. I’m sure they’ve got lots of people there on the roster, though.”
“What we need is proof,” Colt says. “That they’re cooking it and distributing it.”
“Baron told me,” I say. “But it’s my word against his. Unless Royal will testify against him…”
“He’d never turn against his family,” Gloria says.
“He hates his dad more than anyone in the world,” I say. “And with good reason.”
We sit in silence for a while, finishing the joint. Gloria takes out her compact and fixes her makeup, and for once, she and Colt don’t snipe at each other. When she’s all made up again, she stands and smooths her hands over her skirt. “Well, I’m ready to help,” she says. “But how are you going to take down Daddy Dolce?”
“If we want to get to him, we need to get Royal on board,” I say again.
“The hard part will be getting the twins on board,” she says. “Royal won’t go against him if it’ll hurt his brothers, and his brothers still like their dad, from what I can tell.”
“So now you’re going to be working with the twins?” Colt asks. “I thought this was all to get rid of them.”
“Mr. Dolce is the head,” I say. “If we cut off the head…”
“And boil it in oil for a thousand years,” he says with a grin.
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Gloria says. “Except I’ve been doing that for two years, and they dropped me like a bad habit the second they decided I wasn’t worth it.”
“I think I know a way to get them on our side,” I say. “Just give me a few weeks.”
eighteen
Harper Apple
The Friday before Thanksgiving break, I head back to Royal’s after school, thinking how fucking weird it is that I live in the same neighborhood as Gloria Walton and Cotton Montgomery now. I live in the Dolce boys’ house. I have the gate code.
I pull into their garage and let myself in the back door. The twins and Royal are all at football practice, and Mr. Dolce’s Porsche SUV isn’t in the garage, which means it’s just me and their staff. Helga comes to take my bag upstairs and give me a glass of water and ask if I want a snack. I tell her I’m fine, and after she’s gone off to do whatever she does, I go back down the hallway toward the back door. Glancing up and down to make sure I’m alone, I try the door to Mr. Dolce’s office.