Boys Club by Selena

seventeen

Harper Apple

It takes me a few seconds to get my wits back and put on my game face. Then I straighten on my knees and pull the pick from the lock. “Whatever you think you’re going to do to me, don’t even,” I say. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

“Are you, though?” Baron asks.

“You have the key,” I say. “Unlock the door.”

“Yeah, except I don’t have the key.”

“Bullshit,” I say, making my way down the stairs despite the blinding glare of his cellphone’s flashlight in my eyes. “You told Royal you’d lock up.”

No point in pretending I wasn’t hiding and spying on them. I’m already caught.

He shrugs. “I gave it to Royal.”

“Why would Royal lock us in here?”

Our eyes meet, and Baron’s are alight with curiosity.

“That’s a good question,” Duke says. “He knew we were down here. Why would he lock us in?”

“Maybe he also knew she was down here,” Baron says.

“And he wants us to have our fun with her,” Duke says, a smile breaking over his face. I can barely make out his bleary gaze in the dark, but his voice gives away how drunk he is. Great. I’m locked in a basement with my least favorite version of Duke, the obnoxious drunk one, and Baron, who’s still a mystery to me, and not the fun kind.

Duke steps toward me, but I raise my fists. “Touch me, and I’ll rip your dick off with my bare hands.”

“Now, that’s not a very nice thing to say to the guy you’re trying to seduce.”

“Let me out,” I say, pointing to the door at the top of the stairs.

“There’s another door,” Baron says, not moving from where he stands. There’s a calculated stillness about him, like a snake that might strike at any moment. “You have to crawl a bit, but you’ll get there.”

“And be stuck in a tunnel when you attack me?” I ask with a scoff. “No thanks.”

“My brother tells me you want to be a Swan,” Baron says, cocking his head. “How badly do you want it?”

“What?” I ask, my heart beating hard. I sense a trap, and I have zero interest in falling into it.

“Face your fears,” he says. “That’s one of the challenges.”

I roll my eyes. “You think you’re what I fear most?”

“Are we?” he asks.

“No.”

These boys could hurt me physically, but I’ve been hurt plenty of times at the Slaughter Pen. Royal is the only one of them who could truly hurt me, the only one I fear. Royal could make me do the one thing I fear most in the world—lose myself.

But I’m not doing to tell these boys that. We stare at each other a long moment. Then Duke slings his bag off his shoulder and opens it, pulling out a bottle of beer. “Well, looks like we’re having a sleepover,” he says. “Drink up, baby. You’ll need something to take the edge off. We’ll be taking turns with your ass all night.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“You know, it doesn’t matter what you say,” Duke says. “We can tell Royal we fucked you, and he’ll believe us. He won’t even question it. You’re done with our boy. You might as well have some fun with us now.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”

“Why what?” Baron asks.

“Why don’t you want me with Royal?”

“You’re not good for him,” Baron says. “You need to go. Royal may have many fine qualities, but forgiveness isn’t one of them.”

“So you’re going to tell him I fucked you, and make him dump me?”

“Now she gets it,” Duke says. “It doesn’t matter if you do it or not. As long as he believes it, it might as well be true.”

He takes a swig of beer and stumbles, dropping his phone with a clatter on the concrete floor. He swears and swipes at it twice before snagging it. Straightening, he sways on his feet.

I can take his drunk ass in a second. His reflexes are shit right now. Baron’s the one I’m worried about.

“The tunnel leads out of here?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Baron says. “If the door at the other end is unlocked.”

“You just came from that way,” I say. “Is it locked?”

He shrugs. “I don’t remember. Duke?”

Duke lets out a drunken giggle. “I don’t fuckin’ know. I know I want some action, though. Harper, get over here and ride me. I’ve been waiting to bust in that juicy pussy for months.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I say. “That’s the only action you’ll be getting tonight.”

He laughs and downs half the beer in one long gulp, then belches loudly. “I’d rather fuck your face,” he says. “Baron, you want her ass? I bet Royal hasn’t loosened it up too much yet.”

“I think I’ll brave the tunnel collapsing after all,” I say, heading for the other door. “Can’t be worse than suffering the company of this drunk asshole.”

“Hey, you know what’s a fun game for everyone?” Duke asks, his eyes lighting up behind their glassy shine. “We’ll turn off the lights and take turns licking your pussy, and whoever does it better gets to fuck you first.”

“Do you ever think about anything besides your dick?”

“Sometimes I think about your pussy,” he says, swaying forward and back. “Especially when I’m jerking off in the shower. That’s when I picture my balls slapping that wet, pink pussy and my cum filling it up, giving you a nice juicy creampie.”

“Yeah, my disgust for you outweighs my fear of tight spaces,” I say. “I’m going to check out the tunnel. If the door’s locked, I might just dig my way out.”

“Have fun,” Baron says, pulling a sucker from his pocket. “Hope your flashlight doesn’t die.”

Fuck. My phone’s at about one percent battery. Still, it’s better than the alternative.

I tense as I step past Baron, sure he’s going to grab me. He lets me pass, but Duke reaches out and pinches my tit. Okay, talking shit is one thing, and his rape jokes are bad enough, but now he laid a hand on me.

“Oh, you want to get physical?” I ask, my hands balling into fists.

“Yeah,” he says with a sloppy grin. “That’s right, baby. Let me taste that sweet cherry pie.”

I swing, and he doesn’t even duck. It’s a beautiful right hook that meets his temple with the aim of a fucking archer. He crumples to the floor in a heap, and I jump back, fists raised and adrenaline pumping through me, ready for Baron to come at me.

“You gonna come get yours?” I ask.

He just shakes his head. “I’ve felt your fists. Besides, I’m more into the challenge than taking what I can by brute force.”

I don’t trust him for a second, so I back into the next room. It’s dark in there, since his is the only flashlight. I swallow hard, wiping my hands on my jeans, and feel my way to the dirt tunnel. It’s chilly in the basement, and my clothes are still damp from the rain. At least, I tell myself that’s why I start shivering the second my shins are on the cold dirt floor of the tunnel. I force myself onwards, my heart thudding in my ears. To avoid thinking about the ceiling collapsing, I focus on the tunnel behind me, trying to hear if Baron’s coming in with me. Each scrape of my own knees on the floor makes me tremble.

God, it’s so tight. My shoulders are pressed against the walls, and I wonder if maybe this tunnel doesn’t lead out at all. Maybe it leads to… Nothing. I’ll be stuck in a dead end in the dark, waiting for Duke to come rape me and probably kill me. Because fuck if I’m just going to lie there and take it without fighting back. I’ve seen way too many movies where people go into a cave or a tunnel looking for escape and instead come upon a pile of skeletons left by all the other idiots who tried to escape before them.

The ceiling of the tunnel brushes my back—or was it a bat?—and I think I’m going to be sick. I close my eyes and try to breathe, though it feels like there’s no oxygen in the tunnel. What the fuck am I doing? I’ve just basically buried myself alive.

I press my palms to the cold dirt under them and think about the nights I spent locked in the closet at home. The hours I’d be in there, sometimes so long I wet myself before Mom dragged her hungover ass up and remembered where I was. Then she’d rage at me and smack me around a little and tell me to clean myself up, that I was a disgusting pig. Or if she had a boyfriend over, she’d howl with laughter at my wet pants because she didn’t want men to see her pissed. A sense of humor is sexy, after all. No one likes an angry woman.

I take another ragged breath, forcing it into the constricted airways to my panicked lungs. This is not that bad. And if I could clean up myself and the closet without crying back then, I sure as fuck won’t cry now. I didn’t freak out then, and I won’t freak out now.

Once, she locked me in a cabinet because she said I’d lose my claustrophobia if I just faced it. I was curled up in a ball, with my knees to my chest, for hours. I have all the room in the world here. I could lie down flat and crawl on my stomach. I can roll over. I can move.

I start forward again. After a time, I hear echoing scuffles high above. I reach up a tentative hand and can’t feel the ceiling. I climb to my knees, then my feet. Relief floods through me in a rush that brings tears to my eyes and a whoop of relief to my throat. Blinking back the wetness, I hold a hand in front of me and one on the wall, and I walk until the wall falls away. I turn on my phone for the last time. No skeletons. No cage with Mabel Darling being held captive like Gretel waiting for the witch to eat her.

There are two tunnels off the side of a cavernous room. I continue straight ahead, and at the far side of the room, I find a door, just like Baron said.

Heart galloping in my chest, I find the knob and twist. It doesn’t budge.

Fuck. I sink down on the floor, shaking with spent energy, the adrenaline leaving my limbs. My fingers are trembling and stiff with cold, but I try to pick the lock for a while, anyway. When I can’t, I consider sleeping here. At least I’m away from the guys. But it’s so fucking cold, and I’m shivering so hard I can’t possibly relax. My phone dies, and suddenly, the darkness seems close and oppressive and terrifying. Even though I wasn’t using the light, there was comfort in knowing it was an option if I needed it.

Now, drunk obnoxious Duke seems preferable to staying here alone, not knowing if someone will come through the door and who it might be.

But going back to the twins means facing the tunnel again.

I did it before, though. I can do it again. I know there are no forks until the tunnel opens up, which means I just have to find the tunnel in the dark and hope it’s the right one. It’s not too hard. I just have to go straight ahead.

I gather all my courage and creep across the room in the dark. When I find the tunnel, I take a deep breath and barrel in. I don’t think, just charge through as fast as I can. Somehow, it doesn’t seem so bad on the way back. When I finally see a scant light ahead, my heart starts racing with relief. I burst out of the tunnel into the dirt room in the basement of Willow Heights. The familiarity itself is a relief, and I can finally breathe easy. Duke is sitting up in a chair, a beer in one hand, his eyes unfocused and his jaw slack. A lump has already formed where I decked him.

Baron sits on the stone slab, his phone sitting beside him with the light on. “How was it?” he asks, holding up his beer.

“Fuck you,” I say. “You knew it was locked.”

“Faced your fears, though, didn’t you? One more Midnight Swan challenge down.”

“Is that what this is?” I ask. “My initiation?”

“Depends,” he says. “It could be.”

“Bullshit. Royal said I could never join.”

“Royal’s not the only Swan,” Baron counters.

“He’s your leader.”

“He’ll be done with you after tonight, and then he won’t care what happens to you. That’s how it works with him. When he’s done, you don’t exist to him anymore.”

“Fine,” I say, planting my hands on my hips. “What do I need to do next?”

“You tell me, Stalker Girl.”

“Betray a friend for a Swan. See, that one might be hard, since I don’t have friends.”

“Gloria’s a friend,” he says. “I’m a friend.”

“Are you, though?”

He holds out a beer, the cap still on. “Have a beer. Relax. We’ll be here a while.”

“I like to stay sharp.”

“Me too,” he says, taking a drink from his beer. “But one beer won’t hurt.”

I relent and take it. At least it might warm me up a little, and to be honest, I need to calm down and think this through. Like when they threw me in the dumpster with Colt, I’m attacking a big problem with a tiny knife. If I chill and wait it out, someone will come open the door. If this is some kind of hazing for the Midnight Swans, then I need to see what they want me to do. So, I sit down on the stone slab next to Baron.

“What’s the last challenge?” I ask. “The gauntlet.”

“For a girl?” he asks. “That means we sex you in.”

I force myself to swallow my beer without reaction. “Who does?”

“All of us.”

I squeeze the cold bottle to keep my hands from shaking. “All the Swans?”

“A gangbang, baby,” Duke slurs, holding up his beer.

“And this has happened before?” I ask.

“No,” Baron says. “Because no chicks at this school would do it. But I bet you would.”

“You bet wrong.”

“Well, technically, the gauntlet only requires the participation of three Swans,” he says. “And you’ve already fucked Royal. So you’re third of the way there.”

“This is your chance,” Duke says. “Three for three.” He leans forward in his chair, then tilts slowly until he topples out, as if in slow motion. It would be comical, but I’m a little worried he’s going to choke on his puke and die in his sleep.

“He’s not wrong,” Baron says.

Duke rolls onto his back on the floor. “Gonna rest my eyes,” he mumbles. “Then we’ll tag team her.”

“My phone died,” I say after a minute, nodding at Baron’s light. “Want to call someone to let us out?”

“No can do,” he says, taking a drink. “No service down here.”

“Right.”

We sip our beers in silence for a few minutes. Then Baron climbs off the rock and sits on the floor beside Duke. “My phone’s going to die if I don’t turn off the light,” he says. “We should all just get some sleep.”

“Why don’t I trust you in the dark?”

“Because you’re paranoid and think everyone wants to fuck you.”

“Says the guy who was just trying to get in my pants.”

“That was me,” Duke says, not opening his eyes.

“Come sit by us,” Baron says. “It’ll be warmer. I won’t mess with you.”

“Fine,” I say, sliding off the stone and going to sit by them. Despite Duke’s usual drunken asshole behavior, they haven’t done anything. Baron’s right. They are my friends. We’ve been hanging out for a few months now. I sit with them every day at lunch, go to their games, am part of their circle. It’s not like it was at the beginning of the year, before I was a Dolce girl. I’m under Royal’s protection now. They might want him to be done with me, might try to convince me it’s true. But I know different, and they know it, too.

He didn’t lock us down here. Baron did. Baron has the key. He wants Royal to dump me, but he won’t risk his brother’s rage by touching his plaything before Royal gives the okay.

Baron turns off his light, and we both lie down. He turns toward me, and I tense, but he only lays an arm across me. “So, not into being a Swan if it means you have to work for it?”

“Would you let three dudes fuck you to get in?”

“Touché.”

For a while, none of us speak. After a while, Baron sighs. “You know, this is where they kept Royal when he was kidnapped,” he says drowsily.

A chill explodes over my skin, and I lose my breath for a second. “What?”

“Not in the main room,” Baron says, petting my hair absently. “Back here, in the dirt like an animal.”

“And he still comes down here?” I ask, remembering that weird encounter in the dark, when he brought me down here and started kissing me and said all those creepy things…

It’s safe here, in the dark. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

Suddenly, I’m dizzy with the realization of how sick this all is—him forcing girls down here to blow him, those things he said that probably some sicko said to him…

“Are you kidding?” Duke asks. “Our brother’s not afraid of anything.”

I can hear the pride in his voice, and it’s sweet, how much he thinks of his big brother. But it doesn’t change how fucked up this is. Maybe it was him that locked me in here with his brothers, knowing what they might do to me.

“He’s the one who wanted to keep the Swans going after the school and the police shut them down,” Baron says. “He wanted to come down here when we all thought it was a bad idea. But he wanted to keep the meetings here.”

“Why?” I ask, too horrified to even think about it.

“Probably to show how little it affects him,” Baron says. “To show the Darlings they didn’t win.”

I’m not convinced. If anything, it shows me how much it still affects him. He can’t let it go, just like he can’t stop going to the bridge, where I’m pretty sure his sister died. Instead of avoiding everything, he revels in the pain of it like a masochist, never letting himself forget. He’s punishing himself, though I can’t begin to imagine what he thinks he did wrong in either instance.

“He’s not going to let that shit own him,” Duke says. “He rules his past.”

“Can I ask you something?” I say after a minute. “When he was kidnapped… Was he assaulted?”

“Yeah,” Baron says. “They beat the fuck out of him. Like, half his teeth are implants. He had a concussion, but he wanted to go right back out on the field.”

He sounds so proud, like that makes his brother a hero. My ribs ache at the thought of Royal needing to prove himself that badly.

“Dad had to find a doctor who would sign off for him to play,” Duke says, laughing and then hiccupping. “He was so pissed the first one wouldn’t. I think he got him fired. Then he found a good one.”

“Now they golf together,” Baron says with a chuckle. “You never know when you’ll need a medical professional. Helps to have all kinds in your pocket.”

A shiver rolls through me. I wonder how much of that fight was Royal’s, and how much was Mr. Dolce’s. This is how they took power. Paying off people to do what they want, bulldozing those who wouldn’t. Nothing stands in their way—like father, like sons. Despite Royal’s resentment, they’re all on the same side, all in it together. Royal is eighteen. He doesn’t have to obey his father or even live there. He could stop going to the Hockington if he wanted, but something keeps him going back. Is it the same thing that keeps him coming back here, some kind of penance?

I clear my throat. “I meant, like, sexually assaulted.”

“Dude, that’s fucked up,” Duke slurs. “Royal’s a man.”

“Men get raped, too.”

“Royal would never take it up the ass,” Baron says. “You really are sick, Harper.”

“Yeah,” Duke chimes in. “How could you ask that about a guy who’s fucking you? Does he seem gay to you?”

“The ignorance of that statement is honestly astounding.”

“Nothing like that happened,” Baron says flatly. “Old Man Darling brought him here, and he was beaten to within an inch of his life, had half his teeth knocked out, his skull fractured, ribs broken, shoulder dislocated… He was starved and dehydrated and all kinds of shit. But don’t even think about anything perverted like that.”

“Because none of that’s perverted,” I mutter.

“Where’s my beer?” Duke asks.

“Did they catch the guy?” I ask.

“Sort of,” Baron says. “That whole investigation was botched from the start, though. The redneck cops around here don’t know how to deal with real problems.”

Or maybe the problems weren’t as real as Baron thinks. Dixie told me that their own sister sent some letter saying it was all faked. But Royal couldn’t have faked that, could he? I mean, I guess he could have let someone beat him up and then say it was the Darlings, but damn. Those are some extreme lengths to go to just to frame someone. But then, Royal’s nothing if not extreme.

And Dixie could be wrong. Maybe there was no letter, and if there was, maybe it wasn’t from Crystal at all but from a Darling trying to get the charges dropped. And here I am, helping them.

“You found him here?” I ask, rubbing my arms, trying to get the goosebumps to go away.

“Has anyone seen my beer?” Duke asks, groping at me until I slap his hand away. His voice is slurred and sleepy, though, and I know we’re about to lose him for the night.

“No one found him here,” Baron says. “Devlin’s dad put him in their attic to hide him until he died. But they found him before he did.”

“Who found him?”

“Crystal and Devlin.”

I shudder harder. All I’ve ever heard from Colt and Dixie and even Royal is how great Crystal was—that everyone loved her, wanted her. She taught them so much. She was such a good, selfless person. But I haven’t heard this part.

“After his dad tried to kill Royal, she still chose Devlin over him?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Baron says. “Royal called her on it, too. He’s blunt as fuck. He thinks he did something wrong because of it, but she needed to hear it. And Royal’s never been afraid to hit those hard truths, y’know? He’ll say what everyone’s thinking, do the hard shit that no one else wants to do. He doesn’t let anything stand in his way. He gets shit done.”

I can practically hear Baron and Duke both swelling with pride every time they talk about Royal. It’s clear they worship him. But that doesn’t mean they always agree with Royal. This is the first time I’ve heard anyone paint Crystal as anything less than a saint.

I want to hear more, but I’m too fucking cold to ignore it. “Any chance someone left a jacket down here?” I ask. “Or a dry change of clothes?”

Baron’s hand finds mine in the dark. “Damn, you are cold,” he says, sitting up. He moves around, and a second later, his warm hoodie envelopes me in its cozy fabric and the scent of him, like boys and faint cologne or deodorant. I pull it down over me and huddle into it with such gratitude I might be tempted to fuck him again if he asked.

“Come here and put your head on me, and I’ll tell you both a bedtime story,” Baron says. “I’ve got an extra sucker you can eat while you listen. This is a little tale I like to call, The Fall of the Darlings. Don’t worry. It has a happy ending.”