Boys Club by Selena
two
Harper Apple
After my talk with Gloria, I send Royal a quick text that night. I don’t hear back. Sucks to look desperate, but I console myself with the fact that I’m not the first girl to throw herself at him. What sucks worse than being ignored is that I’m back to square one, with no idea how to gain access to their inner circle.
As much as I don’t want to use her that way, I might have to go through Gloria. No matter how stupid my heart is, my brain is still functioning just fine. My brain tells me that Royal being a dick is the best thing that could have happened this week, drilling it into me that he’s not my boyfriend. He’s my enemy. If he’d gone all-in, I might have forgotten, might have gotten swept up in the seductive pull of his power, too lovesick with Dolce fever to remember that this is all a lie.
His ignoring me gives me time to refocus, to get my head in the game. I still need to find out something on the Dolces, something that can take them down. And Gloria knows their secrets.
I need to learn what she knows, something that can destroy them once and for all. I don’t even need all their secrets. Just one. Something better than their dad being a lush or a creep, better than the fact that they have a rape room under the school. I need a secret that’s as shameful as the secret I had, the one that Royal exposed in front of the whole school.
Why shouldn’t I do the same to him?
If I were a girl like Lo, if I’d had anything to lose, the tape of me giving a blowjob to an ugly old teacher would have destroyed me. But I had no shining reputation, no money, nothing. Still, he made my life hell, exposed my darkest shame and humiliation. My desperation. Everyone knows what I am. He might think I’ve forgotten that, but I never will.
So now it’s my turn to dig up his dirty laundry, something as good as the video he took of me blowing Mr. Behr. I don’t know what secrets the Dolces have, but they have them. Rich people don’t get rich by being nice. The Dolces have skeletons, and I’m about to dig them up. I won’t give up until I’ve found it, the one piece of dirty laundry that can ruin them, a secret that can topple an empire. Even if I have to go through Royal’s ex to get it.
By the end of the week, I still haven’t figured out how. It’s driving me fucking insane. Five days of walking by Royal’s table in the café and refusing to look his way. Five days of forcing myself not to look at my phone like a pathetic little bitch. Five days of ignoring him in the class we share, wanting to scream in frustration. I thought I’d gotten a foot in the door. Worse, I don’t know where I slipped up. I replay our last exchange a million times. He said was for me to be ready for him on Monday, but he doesn’t talk to me in class, harass me in the café, or drag me to the basement to fuck.
And here I am, obsessing like every other dumb bitch at Willow Heights. I bought into his game, and I hate myself for it. Between the hot and cold, I can’t tell if I’m scalded or frostbitten half the time, and the fucked up part is, I don’t care. I want more. I’m one hundred percent not interested in being his girlfriend, but some dumb bitch part of my monkey brain keeps pushing the lever, hoping this time I’ll get a treat.
Friday morning, I’m at my locker before school when I hear a hush fall over the hall. Royal Dolce is walking right toward me. Nothing else can get everyone’s attention that fast.
I tense, always ready for the other shoe to drop. Just because he’s ignored me, I’m not dumb enough to think he’s done with me. He’s been biding his time, waiting to strike, probably loving that it’s killing me. Because he knows me well enough to know I’m not the kind of girl who walks away without an explanation. I want answers, and he knows it. He also knows I’m impatient as fuck, and from the smug look on his face, he knows just what a relief this confrontation is for me.
I tell my racing heart to go fuck itself, and I give Royal a cool look when he meets my gaze. Just because I’ve never dated doesn’t mean I can’t play this game, too.
Ignoring my feigned indifference, Royal stops and swings his bag off his shoulder, unzipping it and pulling out a wad of gold and black material. “Be at my game tonight,” he says, pushing the fabric into my hands. “In this.”
“Yeah, see, I kinda already have plans,” I say. Fuck if I’m going to jump to obey after he ghosted me all week. If he wanted me at his game, he should have said something before I booked a fight.
“Cancel them,” he says. “Be there. Wear this.”
I glare at him and lower my voice to a whisper, stepping behind my locker door so no one can read my lips. “We fuck once, and you think you can tell me what to do and how to dress?”
He gives me the asshole smirk that makes my fucking nipples harden just seeing it. “I was already telling you what to do and how to dress,” he says smugly. “And we fucked more than once. If I recall correctly, you came, like…” He pretends to count off on his fingers before finishing, “Six times?”
My face heats at the memory of how many orgasms he gave me last week, but I don’t flinch. “Your point is?”
He takes the cloth I’m still holding and shakes it out. It’s a jersey, though not a real one. It’s one of the tiny ones girls wear to the games, with his number on the back—the number one, of course. “Go change into this. All the Dolce girls wear them on Fridays.”
“Oh, now I’m a Dolce girl?”
He slides his hand over my hip just above the top of my jeans and pushes me back against the locker, stepping in until our bodies are almost touching. “No, Cherry Pie. You’re my Dolce girl,” he says, his head lowered so we’re both behind the locker door. “Now go put that on. I want to see my number on your back all day. I won’t be able to see it tonight.”
“Because you think I’ll be cheering at your game?”
“Because you’ll be on your back,” he says, sweeping his thumb along the top of my jeans, brushing my bare skin over the ridge of my hipbone. “Where you belong.”
The tiny contact is more erotic than if he was grinding up against me, and I have to fight to keep my head on straight.
“Not on my knees?” I ask, batting my lashes at him. I’m fucking with him, but I’m also testing him, watching for the slightest reaction when I hint at the conversation I had with Mr. D. “Or… On all fours?”
“Baby, I don’t care if you’re standing on your head,” he says. “As long as my balls are slapping that pussy, I’m a happy man.”
Either he’s the world’s best liar, or he’s not Mr. D. Not that I really thought he was, but it’s nice to eliminate one person.
“So, is that how this is going to work?” I ask. “You ignore me all week, and then on Friday I wear your jersey and go to your game, and you fuck me as a reward and then go back to pretending I don’t exist the next Monday?”
He puts a finger to my lips. “No questions, remember?”
I glare up at him, but he only nods to someone down the hall, and a second later, Gloria and her Bitch Pack arrive, all wearing similar jerseys, their hair in high ponytails, with numbers painted on their faces. Only Gloria sports the number one on her cheek. Her sisters have the other Dolce boys’ numbers, and the three other girls have other numbers, which I assume belong to DeShaun, Cotton, and Dawson.
“Come on, then,” Gloria says, linking her arm through mine. “I’ve got face paint. We’ll get you fixed up in the bathroom.”
“Thanks, Lo,” Royal says, putting an arm around her waist and leaning down to kiss her forehead. “You’re a doll.”
Gloria and her squad bodily escort me down the hall to the bathroom. I’ve had enough attention lately, so I don’t fight it and cause a scene. But once inside the restroom, I jerk away and turn to face them. “What the fuck was that? I have a test first period. I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Don’t look at us like we’re going to attack you,” Gloria says, rolling her eyes. “You’re a Dolce girl now. You have to look the part.”
“And if I don’t?”
They all stand there blinking at me like it’s incomprehensible that I don’t want to look like their clone.
“Oh, bless your heart,” Gloria says at last, giving me a pitying look. “You think it’s a choice?”
“Why would you say no?” Eleanor asks. “It’s Royal Dolce. That’s like… If someone gave you the Canary Diamond, and you said, No thanks. I’m good. I’d rather have a regular diamond.”
“I don’t get it,” Everleigh says. “There are already six of us, and six of them. Why does she get to be a Dolce girl? Royal already has you, Lo. He’s the quarterback, and you’re top girl.”
Gloria sighs. “Royal can have as many Dolce girls as he wants. If he wants six for himself, he gets them. We’re not here to question them. We’re here to give them what they want.”
“And why would we do that?” I ask, crossing my arms and glaring up at her.
“Because they give us what we want,” she says, rooting in her bag. She produces a black mock turtleneck like the ones they’re all wearing and hands it to me. “Put this on under the jersey. Then I’ll do your hair.”
“Test, remember?”
“If you’re so worried about getting to class, stop fucking around and put it on,” she snaps, shoving me toward a stall. “Think of it like this. Royal’s the king. I’m the queen. You’re his mistress. We both know about each other, and we’re okay with each other, even if we can’t say it in public.”
“Ohhh,” Everleigh says. “So he shows up at the party with you, but he leaves with her.”
“Exactly,” Gloria says. “I get the photo ops, she gets the dirty talk.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re okay with this? And you expect me to be?”
“Yes and yes,” she says. “Now, first period’s about to start, so hurry up.”
I’m not sure how I feel about all this, but I’m not missing my test, so I quickly change into the shirt and pull the jersey on over it, knotting it up at the hip like the other girls. Gloria steps behind me and pulls my hair into a tight, high pony, then stands back. “It’ll do for now,” she says. “We’ll do your face paint later.”
The bell chimes, and I curse under my breath and dash out of the bathroom and into class. “You’re late,” the teacher snaps without looking up. But then she sees me, her eyes taking me in with one glance. “Oh. One of you. You’re fine, just have a seat.”
I make my way to my seat, though I’m in that weird Wonderland reality again. The teacher isn’t going to count me tardy because I’m wearing Royal’s jersey? Christ. Every time I think I’ve learned the extent of the Dolces’ power, it goes further.
Everyone is watching me, whispering. I’m sure there will be a blog up by the end of the period letting everyone know I’m not just Royal’s ho, I’m a Dolce girl now. Exactly where I’ve wanted to be for so long. I don’t even know how I feel about that or what just happened. Was it the text I sent on Wednesday after Gloria convinced me to reach out first, the one he couldn’t even be bothered to reply to? All I said was that I hoped he was doing okay. Does untouchable Royal Dolce really need me to care about him?
It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I’m one step closer to that secret Gloria teased me with. I’ve wanted to get in with them since the first time we met, and now I am. Despite everything they’ve done, despite warring with them since I set foot in Willow Heights, somehow, I made it. I’m in. Now it’s time for the real work to begin.
Somehow, it’s not as exciting as I expected. I thought I’d relish taking them down, destroying them from within. But I’m not sure I even want that anymore. They’re brutal and terrible and insane, but they’re also complicated and sad and human. And the truth is, they’re not just fascinating. I like them. Not just Royal, either. Duke’s an obnoxious ass, but he’s not evil. He jokes, but when we were at the river, he held me to keep me warm. Though I don’t know Baron as well, he’s growing on me, too. He’s loyal and looks out for his brothers.
And Royal… I don’t even want to look at that mess. I just know that I’m in, and I don’t want out. Not now. I want more. I want to know more, do more. I want to fuck him again. It wasn’t just good, it was mind-blowing. If that’s all we are, I’ll take it. He’s not Maverick.
Not that I regret what Mav and I had. It was fun and easy, and I learned something from it—that casual is not my style. But I’m not casual with Royal. Even if it is for him, I think I can live with that. I’m going to have to. Because it’s too late for me. Something connects us, and it has from the moment we met. Something in his soul claimed mine long before his words did. And mine accepted his claim. Even when I didn’t admit it, didn’t know it, I was always his.
Now that we’ve given in to that, there’s no backing out. When he looked in my eyes while he was inside me, it was the most powerful thing I’ve ever experienced. It doesn’t matter if that time was the one people would say was ‘bad’ sex, or that he came too soon. In fact, that only tells me that he felt it, too. That our connection was so intense he couldn’t hold back even if he tried.
Knowing it won’t last, that it can’t, only makes the decision easier. I’m not the type to give into things without thinking them through. But with him, I am. He makes me feel crazy, and daring, and terrified, and excited. I can let my heart have this for now, my body take pleasure in his, without changing my mind. I haven’t forgotten what he did. He still released that video after he promised he wouldn’t. If colleges find out about that, he might have ruined my entire future. He destroyed my friend’s life, at least the current version, and made him drop out of school. And he’s destroyed so many people before us.
His family needs to be taken down. And when I do it, it’s going to kill me, too. If they know who did it, I have no doubt they’ll literally kill me. If they never know, and I get something good enough to make Mr. D act and go after them with his money, it’ll still kill me to see Royal fall with them. But even so, I know it has to be done. His family is dangerous to everyone and damaging to this town. No one should have that much power. No one should be immune to all consequence.
In the meantime, though, I will let myself have this. It’s big and scary and consuming, and I already know it’s going to hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. But I also know that it’ll be worth it. Royal’s worth it. To have him for a day, a week, or a few months will be worth it. If I don’t let myself experience this, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. That I’ll never feel exactly how I feel now about another guy. There is no other Royal Dolce.
So, I don’t take off the jersey and cause a scene with the Dolces just to prove they can’t control me. They can. They’d just put it back on me by force, anyway. I wear it, and I feel weirdly exposed, maybe even more so than after the video was released. Now, no one is whistling and commenting. I could deal with the lewd remarks. But when they watch me in a sort of silent reverence, it makes me ten times more self-conscious. Before, I could put up my defenses and hide behind a wall of not giving a fuck. Now, there’s nothing to defend myself from.
After first period, Duke throws his arm around me as I leave the classroom and walks with me to second. Girls smile shyly and step aside for us. I think they’re just admiring Duke, or maybe they assume we’re a couple. But in the next class, Baron calls me over to their table. Three boys and three girls already sit there, but he pulls up a chair and places it at the end of the rectangular table. Of course, the teacher doesn’t protest.
“Let me do your cheeks,” Everleigh says, pulling out some face paint and a tiny brush. She sits there painting my cheeks in the middle of class. No one says a word. When she’s done, she gives me a little compact mirror from her purse. I figure she’s drawn a penis on my face, but no, it’s actually Royal’s number in black and gold. On my other cheek, she’s drawn a Knight’s helmet.
She hands me some red lipstick and black mascara, and I put it on. I look… Weird. Like one of them. Looking at me, you can’t even tell I’m poor white trash anymore.
“Hot,” DeShaun Rose says, giving me a thumbs up and a wink.
“Wish I’d noticed you first,” Dawson Walton says.
“Ignore them,” Everleigh says, like we’re in on something. “And remind me to get you a necklace. We all wear one.”
All three of the girls put their hands to the little D charm on the chain around their necks at once.
“I think I’m okay on that,” I say, not sure I can deal with anything more surreal. “Thanks.”
“Well, Duke will give you a more… Permanent mark, anyway,” Everleigh says. She and another girl giggle. I don’t even know the names of her friends, the Dolce girls, who are now supposed to be my friends. I don’t know the first thing about them, or if I even like them, and they’ve been nothing but scathing to me. They’ve criticized my clothes, my shoes, the way I talk, and my sexuality. Now, suddenly, because I’ve had the right dick in me, we’re friends.
I feel like Alice looking for the right sized door out of this bizarro funhouse world.
Baron and DeShaun walk me to my next class. I know they’re trying to be protective or some shit, but I feel like I have a police escort. Before lunch, I drop my stuff in my locker and find myself craving a piece of normalcy. All I want is to escape to the bleachers, away from prying eyes, and smoke a blunt with Colt. But Colt isn’t here. Colt doesn’t get normalcy. He’s in a hospital somewhere waiting for a surgery, or maybe at home with his head in a cast that makes him look like a mummy. My heart aches for him, and I can’t seem to shake the sadness or the ghost of him that haunts me as I head to lunch.
When I get to the cafeteria, Royal and Gloria are standing in the tiny side hallway that leads to the exterior door, as if they knew I’d be tempted to escape today. I wonder if Royal ever feels this way, if he wants to escape the prying eyes, and if he ever succeeds. He once said people want to stare at him like an animal in the zoo, so he just accepts it. How long did it take him to get to that point?
“There you are,” Gloria says, waving and smiling so big her nose crinkles in the cutest way. Her blonde ponytail bobs as she skips over to me and grabs my hand, dragging me back to Royal. “Okay, we’re walking in together so everyone knows we’re cool. Ready?”
I cock a brow at Royal. “You waited for me? That’s so sweet. Next thing I know, you’ll be carrying my books and walking me to class. And here I thought you didn’t want a girlfriend.”
“Shut up and listen,” he says, glowering at me. “When everyone’s watching, you can’t just do whatever the fuck you want.”
“You mean like you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t. I do what needs to be done. And you will, too. Got it?”
“Do I really have a choice?”
“Never.”
“Okay, then,” I say. “I figured that was the case. That’s why I’m wearing your jersey. Not because I want to be your girlfriend, but because I know you’ll just hold me down and strip me and force me into it if I don’t.”
He cracks a smile at Gloria and points down at the top of my head. “Slow learner,” he says, like I can’t hear him. “But she’s finally catching on.”
“You should try being less predictable,” I say. “It would be harder to pick my battles if I thought I’d actually win some of them.”
“Want to hold hands?” Gloria asks, reaching for me with one hand and running the other down her long, sleek blonde ponytail.
I pull back with a grimace. “Not really a hand holder,” I say. “Unless you mean we’re a couple, in which case you’re totally my type, and I’d date the fuck out of you.”
“No hand holding,” Royal snaps, stepping between us. “And you two are not allowed to date.”
“I think someone’s threatened by the thought that he won’t be the center of attention,” I say, giving Gloria a sly grin as we start into the café.
“Not into girls, sorry,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, I’m all for smashing the patriarchy, but the idea of eating pussy just makes me gag.”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” I say lightly, throwing an elbow into Royal’s hip. “Right, big man?”
His jaw is so tight I listen for the sound of teeth cracking, but he doesn’t say anything.
We make it to the food line, and I reach for a plate, but Royal catches my wrist. “You’re a Dolce girl now,” he says. “Act like it.”
I think he’s talking about my flirting with Gloria, but then a freshman girl grabs a plate and steps in front of me, licking her lips nervously and glancing between me and Royal. “I’ll be getting your plate,” she says. “What do you want?”
“Um, to get my own damn food.”
Royal’s hand lands on the back of my neck, gentle but menacing, nonetheless. I know the violence they’re capable of. I remember his fingers around my throat at the tracks the first time we met, before I even knew who he was. Now I know how to walk the dangerous line in his presence.
“Everything,” I say to the girl.
Royal leans down, his lips brushing my hair. “Be good, and you’ll be the only thing on the menu tonight,” he murmurs, then releases his grip on my neck and steps aside to instruct his own waitress. A shiver of heat goes through me when I remember his mouth between my thighs.
Damn, he’s good.
“Do you get paid for this?” I ask the girl as she dishes tabouleh onto my plate. I need to get my head back in the game. I can’t lose focus for even a moment, or another player might take me out.
“Not with money,” she says.
“Sexual favors?” I ask, jealousy flaring when I think of what Royal just said to me.
She gulps, her eye bugging. “No! I mean, if they want, I would totally… But don’t worry. Today’s my first day serving. Royal would never pick someone who’s served him to serve his girl. That would be, like, disrespectful.”
I roll my eyes like it doesn’t matter, but I can’t help looking at the girl holding up Royal’s plate for his approval and thinking about his dick being in her mouth. Royal has zero respect for me or any other girl as far as I can tell. “Then I’d think that’s exactly what he’d do,” I mutter.
“Salad?”
“Everything,” I say again, not sure if I’ll get to go home and eat before the game.
“Right,” she says, fumbling the tongs like she thinks I might knock her teeth out for asking.
“So, you wait on the Dolces and service them, and they do nothing for you?”
Her face is beet red, and I think she’s starting to sweat. “Well, I mean, they’re the Dolces.”
She holds up my plate, and I decide not to torment her with more questions. I tell her it looks good, and Gloria links her arm with mine as we follow Royal, our three servers trailing behind.
“I’m not sure whose head is going to explode first, Royal’s or your server’s,” Gloria whispers, giggling into my shoulder.
We take our seats at the table, with Royal across from us. I’m not thrilled to have my back to the room, but watching Royal’s expression gives me clues as to whether I should be worried. He doesn’t watch with the same intensity as Baron, but unlike Duke, who’s flirting and clowning, knowing his brothers will alert him if shit goes down that he needs to know, Royal is always watching.
He might also be eating and offering a small smile to his brothers and buddies, and he might look casual when his eyes lift to the room behind me, but I know he’s absorbing everything. Just like at the start of class, where he doesn’t bury his face in his phone like everyone else. He’s aware of his surroundings at all times. Sometimes I have to remind myself that he’s more than the entitled king asshole around here. He’s also a kidnapping victim.
“We’ll be seeing you at the party tonight, right, Jailbird?” Duke says, a foot hitting mine under the table, bringing my attention back to the present. “You gonna wear something slutty like last week?”
“I hadn’t heard about a party,” I say, cocking a brow. “Thanks for making it awkward.”
He grins and lays an arm across the back of Royal’s chair. “My boy didn’t tell you about the party? Guess that means you can ride with me tonight.”
“No,” Royal says, not looking up from his plate as he spears a cherry tomato.
The guys all laugh like it’s the funniest shit ever.
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” Duke says, leaning forward across the table. “There’s a party after every game, not just last week. Crazy life we lead, huh?” He winks at me, waiting for my response with a big grin.
“And this one is at your house, but you forgot my invitation?”
“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “See, we don’t throw parties. We just show up at them.”
“So, you’re too cool to throw a party, but not too cool to go thrash your friends’ houses,” I say. “Sounds about right.”
“She’s feisty,” DeShaun says, reaching across Duke to give Royal a little shove. “I like her.”
Royal looks up, his dark eyes meeting mine, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His voice is low, as if he doesn’t care if anyone hears, but his words, his smile, his gaze, are meant only for me. “Me too.”
“Ditto,” I say, ducking my head to pick through my salad while I try to figure out what the fuck is happening to me and why it feels like he just pushed me off a cliff and I don’t give a single fuck that I don’t have a parachute.
“Oh, bless,” Gloria mutters beside me. “Y’all gonna break my heart, aren’t you?”
*
Tipping the Scales
What is the worth of a name?
Could a Darling bastard answer
Better than a prodigal son
Who gave it all up
For an hour in the backseat
With a Dolce princess?
What is the worth of a family?
Could an exploitative father answer
Better than an absent mother
Who gave it all up
For a season of holiday parties
In Gucci gowns?
What is the worth of blood?
Could a DNA test answer
Better than the foolish soul
Who’d have to give it all up
For a chance to exact revenge
On a girl who doesn’t carry
Her family name?
