Boys Club by Selena
twenty-one
Harper Apple
I fight to keep from stumbling back at the force of the blow. I’ve always known it was coming, and yet, somehow it stuns me more than the fucking car bomb under Royal’s hood.
“What?” I manage, because yeah, I’m a masochist who needs to hear it again.
“I’ll get your shit out of my car and bring it by tonight,” Royal says.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask. “We have one fight and you’re ending this?”
“Yes.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I say. “You were just waiting for this all along, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” he says again, his voice emotionless.
“Wow. So all along, you were just waiting for an excuse to dump me. The first sign of a disagreement, and you go running.”
“It wasn’t a disagreement,” he says. “You took their side. I knew you would. But that was always going to be the end.”
I fight back an incredulous laugh. “What—is this another one of your tests? Did you actually bomb your own car to see if I’d choose you over them?”
A flicker of annoyance shows in his face. “I wouldn’t damage my car for you.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re wrong,” I say. “I didn’t take their side. I chose you. I chose to fight what you’re doing because it hurts you, Royal, not them. I barely know them. But I know you. And I know this isn’t good for you. I know you’re better than this. That you can be better.”
“You don’t know me,” he says flatly. “Or you’d know that’s a bullshit excuse for what you just did.”
“You know what I think, Royal? I think you’re scared that you actually feel something for once in your life. That you’re scared that I understand you and that I still care about you even though you don’t think you deserve it. You’re a big strong man who likes to be in control, and it pisses you off that you can’t control any of this. You can’t handle that, and this lame excuse is the best you can come up with for bailing on the best thing that’s happened to you in years.”
The corner of his mouth tugs up in an indulgent smile, and he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You give yourself too much credit, Cherry Pie,” he says. “The only thing that happened to me is that I found another slut who spread her legs and let me fuck her in all three holes until I got bored of them all.”
“You’re a bad liar, Royal.”
It’s not true, though. His words cut deeper than I’ll ever let him know.
“And you were a pretty plaything,” he says, his smile tender, almost apologetic. “But that’s all you are. It was fun seeing what I could get you to do, but once I knew you were desperate enough to stoop to any level for my pleasure, it was only a matter of time. You’re all used up and worn out now. And I don’t fuck loose girls, so I won’t be seeing you again.”
He turns and walks away, leaving me seething mad on step. I want to yell after him, but I won’t be quite that pathetic, so I turn and slam into the house instead. I hope he fucks all three of the Waltons, and they each give him a new disease.
I’m so mad I want to go pummel the bag in the basement for the next five hours, picturing Royal’s face as I do it. But then I remember the reason for the whole breakup fight, and I know I can’t ignore it and punch my problems away. I need to warn people.
And fuck, my phone is in my bag, which is in Royal’s wrecked car back at the school. Which means I don’t have anyone’s number.
I sit down and boot up the ancient desktop computer in the living room. It takes fucking forever, and I’m about to claw out of my own skin before it connects to the internet. But at last, I pull up the OnlyWords app, which is as good as texting. I can do this. I message Dixie, asking if she knows Lindsey or has her messenger handle.
She doesn’t.
Next, I ask for Colt’s handle and message him, not even wanting to know what he’d think of me now. I’ve been fucking Royal Dolce, his biggest enemy, for months. Last time I saw him, Royal was my biggest enemy, too. Now, I’m not so sure. Yes, I want to punch his teeth out right now, but that doesn’t mean everything else went away. I know he’s fucked in the head, and I feel for him, but what he’s doing right now… There’s no excuse for that.
Colt doesn’t answer.
I remember the Silver Swan’s request, so I message him, too. No answer there, either.
I wrack my brain, trying to think of who else to contact. They could be on their way right now. I need to do something, but again, I’m stuck. I don’t have a car here. After I didn’t bring Blue’s mom’s car home for a full night and day the last time I borrowed it, I don’t think they’ll be lending it again anytime soon. Even my bike is still at school, locked up on the bike rack.
All I have is this stupid app. So, it’ll have to do.
I look through the people I’ve messaged before. I don’t have Chase’s information. I don’t have the information for anyone at FHS who might know Lindsey, or anyone who’s close to the Darlings except Dixie.
And one more person.
Mr. D.
I type in his name, and our conversation fills the screen, the lines of blocky green text on the black background from the last time I filled him in, when I told him I was a Swan. I stare at the screen for a long time. There’s one truth I never told him. The one secret that is exactly what he needs—the one that could bring down the Dolces.
BadApple: Can u get a msg 2 Lindsey?
I wait for all of two minutes before I’m too wound up to sit there waiting. Damn it, why is no one answering when I need them? I pace, then head to the kitchen, opening and closing the cabinets. I wonder if they’re at Lindsey’s yet, wherever that is. I remember the mayhem at her fancy house. I wonder how much food was wasted in the food fight. I open the fridge and close it again. I think of that steak that Royal bought me at Cliff’s, how it melted in my mouth. I wonder how many groceries we could have bought, how much longer that money would have lasted, and I feel instantly guilty that I took that food, that I took anything from the Dolces at all. They’re not just messed up kids. They’re evil.
I get out a packet of flavored drink and mix it into a glass of water. It’s the generic brand stuff that you have to keep stirring constantly or it all settles to the bottom, so the top tastes like watery ass and the bottom is so sweet it melts your teeth. When I return to the living room, there’s a message.
MrD: Why?
BadApple: She’s in trouble. The Dolces r going 2 hurt her 2 get 2 Preston. Can u warn her?
MrD: I could try.
MrD: Or you could go along… See what they do.
BadApple: I thought u were her father. Shouldn’t u b freaking out?
MrD: What made you think that?
BadApple: r u?
MrD: I might be.
BadApple: we both already kno wut they do 2 girls. They’ll do the same as they did 2 me but prob worse. They’re not going 2 let me video it. It’ll be my word n hers, if she’ll testify, against theirs. N we know who will win.
MrD: So, what are you going to do about that?
BadApple: Wut r u going 2 do?
MrD: Depends on what you tell me.
BadApple: …
I sit there for a long minute. No fucking way will I go along and watch them gang rape a girl. Not even for Mr. D. Not even for a twenty-thousand-dollar scholarship.
But there’s something I can do that might stop them. If I can get her to hide, to lay low, until after the shit hits the fan…
Well, they’ll probably forget all about her then.
I have what Mr. D needs. It’s at the ends of my fingertips. I wasn’t going to tell him. I planned to take what Gloria said to my grave. It’s too personal, too terrible, to share with a stranger, even one who wants the same thing I do.
But it’s the key. I know it is. That’s why I feel sick just thinking about it. Because I know it’s a weapon as terrible as anything the Dolces themselves would use.
I stir my drink and take a swallow. The sugar hits my empty stomach, turning it sour.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Can I really do this to Royal? I think of the fallout. How it will ruin him at school. How it might ruin his family in this town. A scandal like that…
Would it really be so bad, though, if he wasn’t king of Willow Heights? It wouldn’t be bad for the school, I know that for damn sure. People could live without the constant fear of being targeted. Girls wouldn’t have to be their slaves, carrying their trays or answering their booty calls because they’re not allowed to refuse. And the Dolces have plenty of money. They can pack up and leave town, start over somewhere else, like they made those Darling families do. Faulkner won’t hurt much in their absence. They’ll lose some money, but from what I’ve heard, most of that money is the corrupt kind, anyway—bribes and favors under the table.
Maybe Royal will even be able to stop what he’s doing. He’ll graduate soon and leave his father’s house.
I think of the school without the Dolce boys. The darkness, danger, and excitement they bring. How empty it would be without them, as if we had no purpose. I think of how much Royal would hate me if he knew I was the one who leaked his secret. I think of how much it will hurt to see his empty seat beside me in science, to turn from my locker each day knowing that I won’t see him looming in the hall, stormy and scary and so fucking sexy it hurts down in the center of my being.
I think about missing him, the hole he’ll leave in my life. He dumped me, though. He’ll be gone either way. I won’t be a Dolce girl. I’ll be no one. The emptiness is already creeping in like the damp chill that creeps along the floors in winter and haunts the house like a ghost this time of year.
I imagine living the rest of my life knowing I’ll never feel this way again, the bond that stretches between us until it aches… Looking into his eyes and knowing I’ve found my kindred dark soul.
But his dark soul was twisted into something else, something sick and deadly. My kind may be a bruise on this town, but his is its cancer.
A cold emptiness tightens inside my chest until it aches. He’s already gone. He was never really mine to begin with, but I let myself believe. I let myself fall, and now I’m paying. The hurt is only starting. But I know this is what has to be done. He’d do the same to me.
No, he has done the same to me. Exposed my deepest shame for the world to see. Used it against me, hurt me with it, and for the sake of nothing more than showing me he could. At least I’m trying to help someone, maybe a lot of girls in the future who won’t be subject to toxic, dangerous boys like that. Sweet Magnolia, wherever she is. Innocent little Lindsey.
And Colt.
My fingers are shaking as I start typing. I pause after every sentence. I change my mind and erase a few times, only to start over. My heart is pounding erratically, and tears drop onto the keyboard, but I keep going, pushing on. I know I’m ripping out my own heart, that I’m severing a tie that goes down to my very soul. I’ll never come back from this. There can be no forgiveness for a betrayal this deep.
But I know it’s the right thing to do for everyone else. That I’m destroying the boy I love, and my own heart, for the greater good of this town and everyone in it.
Duke’s words echo in my head.
It’s not about what’s right. All’s fair.
This, though… This is not fair. It’s way beyond fighting dirty. It’s hitting somewhere personal, somewhere shameful. It’s destroying someone, the way those boys do.
When I finish at last, I erase every word. Then I stare at the blank screen. The sugar in my stomach churns sickeningly.
Isn’t destroying the Dolces exactly what I set out to do? To take them down, so they couldn’t destroy any more girls the way they did Mabel, the way they tried to do to me? Is this worse than releasing a video of me sucking an old guy’s dick?
I’ve rolled over and taken it for this long, just like Royal said. I wasn’t desperate, but I was distracted from the goal. Just like my mother, I gave up what I wanted for a man. I chased after dick until I didn’t just want it, I loved it. I loved him. Just like all the men my mother falls for.
But none of that matters. We’re done.
I’m done. I did it all for a reason, and this is the reason. I said I would do whatever it took to get his secret, and I did. Like he said, I spread my legs and let him fuck me, let him humiliate me and debase me. And sure, I enjoyed most of it. It wasn’t just for his pleasure. We did those things together. For both of us. I didn’t suffer every moment or even most moments. But that doesn’t change the facts. I might have let a few orgasms blow my mind, but they won’t make me lose my head.
It’s time to do what I set out to do all along. Bring down the Dolces.
I start typing again, my fingers flying this time.
This is the moment of truth. If I don’t do this, if I hesitate now and don’t pull the trigger, I’m just a pushover who took all his shit and ate it with a smile on her face while he ate caviar. It’s one thing to eat shit because you know that at the end, you’ll survive, and that you poured arsenic on his caviar. It’s another to waver, to pull out and abort mission. Despite what he thinks of me, I’m not pathetic or desperate. I never wanted to a Dolce girl just for a bit of his attention. I did it to get something back, not to become his obedient little dog who came when he called or a doormat for him to wipe his feet on. I’m no one’s love fool, no one’s cum dumpster, and no one’s plaything.
I am a player in the game, equal to Royal Dolce, and I always have been.
This is the real test.
I pause, reading my words, my finger hovering over the send button. Am I strong enough to do this?
Yes.
I am.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and hit send.
My hands are shaking. My breath is coming quick. When I look down, my hands are wet. I touch my face, and my cheeks are wet, too.
Before Mr. D can reply, I type out one last message.
BadApple: That is more than enough 2 take down the Dolces & repay my debt. I am done. I am blocking u. U will never hear from me again. Thank u 4 the scholarship. If it’s gone in April, fuck u. but I’ll live. I don’t need ur charity if this is the price.
BadApple: 1 last thing. Ur a sick bastard n u need help. I honestly hope u get it. U helped me when I needed it. Maybe someone can help u.
I block his handle from messaging me. Then I delete the app from the computer, though I know now that it comes with the browser, and there’s not really a way to delete my account.
But I did it. I found his secret, and I exposed him.
Maybe that means I’m a cancer, too. Maybe I’m more like Royal than I want to admit, more twisted, more cruel. To do what I just did… I know that I am. A good man can’t take down a family like the Dolces, and neither can a good girl. Their family fights dirty. To take them down, I can’t go through the legal channels or even play by the rules. I have to fight dirty, too. I have to play by my own rules, and the truth is, my rules are their rules, the only rule they’ve ever played by—all is fair.
They released a video of me with an older man. Now I’m releasing the story of him with an older woman. Our secrets may be the same, but as always, the difference comes down to money and power. I didn’t have so far to fall. I never had much, so I don’t have much to lose. Rich people have so much more to lose when their dirty little secrets come to light. People like Royal, they fall so far.
I always wanted to watch them fall, but there’s no triumph in it. It’s as bitter and empty and raw as my heart. I know this is it, that it will break them. I just didn’t expect it to shatter me, too. I didn’t anticipate just how ugly it would feel, how exposed I feel. I didn’t know that shining a light on his darkest shame would be like shining a flashlight into a mirror. It doesn’t just illuminate. It reflects back my own darkness. The truth I don’t want to admit.
Even if I tell myself it’s for the right reasons, even if I’m doing it for someone else’s good, I’m still doing it. It doesn’t matter what he’s been through or what I have. Underneath all the trappings and trauma, the money and poverty, the power and status, in the darkness of our souls with only a flashlight and a mirror, I have to confront the truth. The dark side of him is another half of my soul, the reflection in my own mirror. That’s why staring into his eyes is so disconcerting. In them, I don’t just see emptiness. I see the same monster that I see in the mirror.
By exposing him, I’m exposing myself, too. I have to admit to myself that I’m capable of the same evil. That all along, I haven’t been drawn only to the damaged boy who strives to be good to me. I’m drawn to the monster, too. The side of him that terrifies and thrills me, and most of all, sets me free. That side of him recognizes me for what I am, even when I don’t want to see it myself. It lets me be myself, my own monster, in a way no one else ever has. Now, I’m forced to face that darkness on my own, without him by my side. And I’m not sure I’m strong enough to defeat it.
*
Freedom
At the top of the slope,
Just as you push off,
There’s a rush like flying
Off the bridge before you hit the water
Over the tracks before the train hits you
The thrill that this time
It might be over.
You won’t have to think about
The sister you killed,
The brothers you failed,
The men you disfigured,
The lives you’ve ruined,
The girls you’ve broken,
Ever
Again.
