Boys Club by Selena

nine

Royal Dolce

“What the hell is this?” Dad demands, smacking his laptop down on the table and spinning it to face us. It’s eleven in the morning on a Saturday and we just rolled our tired asses out of bed after partying till dawn. As usual, Dad’s in a tie, his hair carefully combed back, looking every inch the businessman he is. He’s never off duty, and he expects the same from us. Every decision is weighed, every risk calculated, before a move is made. We are the Dolces, after all. Each decision, risk, and move will be scrutinized by everyone who isn’t a Dolce.

On the screen is a shot of the aftermath of last night’s party. My blood turns cold, and my hands fist in my lap. Who took pictures?

“That’s a little game I like to call smoking out the hornets,” Duke says, grinning with the pride of an asshole who’s already succeeded.

“It’s not a game,” Dad fumes, his voice low as he glares at my brother. “This is Joseph Darling’s house.”

“It’s Preston’s house,” Baron says with a shrug, selecting a muffin from the tray on the table. “Royal’s getting a new car. Guess he’ll get a new house.”

“Preston doesn’t live there,” Dad says slowly.

“Neither does Joseph,” I say, fixing Dad with a scathing look. “What the fuck does it matter? It’s a Darling house.”

“And you are to tell me before you so much as think up a scheme like this,” he snaps.

“We do shit like that all the time,” Duke says. “Though maybe not that extreme. Look at that.” He brushes crumbs from his hands and pulls the laptop closer, laughing at the image of the skeleton house left behind when we were done peeling the skin and flesh from the bones, draining the lifeblood that makes it a home.

“When it comes to the Darlings, I am to be informed before you do anything,” Dad says, his voice just about shaking with rage.

“Whatever,” I say, picking up my orange juice. “What does it matter? You had your revenge. And that’s just Dixie Powell’s blog. Nobody out of high school reads that shit.”

“I read it,” Dad says, his voice icy. “And if I read it, the other concerned parents read it.”

Concerned parent. I almost spit my orange juice out with the laugh that brings. But my brain is racing through everything that’s been posted in that blog—including the video we uploaded when Baron hacked in. As if I weren’t already pissed at myself for doing that, now I have to know Dad saw Harper sucking off her teacher. No wonder he was all over her when I brought her home. He thinks she likes them old. Hell, for all I know, she does. She might have fucked Dad instead of me if I hadn’t interrupted them when I did.

“I’ll find out who took the picture,” I say, my voice flat. “They’ll be punished accordingly.”

“No pictures allowed,” Baron agrees, leaning over Duke’s shoulder. “But it is a pretty great shot.”

“It’s not about the picture,” Dad says. “It’s about what you did—without consulting me.”

“What the fuck,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “What’s it matter?”

“It matters because Mrs. Darling is a Delacroix,” Dad says, that edge of iciness still in his tone. “And we have business dealings with that family. We didn’t take down the only important family in this town, and we didn’t do it alone.”

“You mean we weren’t alone in taking down the Darlings,” Baron corrects. “And they aren’t the only important family in town.”

I think Dad’s head will explode. This is probably not the time for my smart-ass brother to correct his grammar, but it’s funny as fuck, nonetheless.

Dad jabs a finger down on the table, his eyes burning with menace. “Because of this little stunt, we might lose the contract on the land deal in east Faulkner.”

“And… What do you want us to do?” I ask. “Send our condolences on the loss of their house? Wine and dine Mrs. Darling until she forgets we’re the ones who got her husband thrown in jail? What exactly are you proposing, Dad?”

“I expect you to fix this,” he growls. “Whatever you have to do, do it. Right fucking now.”

“How are we supposed to know what backdoor deals you’re making?” Baron asks. “It’s the Darlings. You know what we do to Darlings.”

“Yeah,” Duke adds. “I wasn’t aware we were supposed to check in with you every time we pulled a prank.”

“You boys don’t tell me anything,” Dad says, throwing his hands up. “From now on, Darling business is my business.”

“So that’s why you steered us off Lindsey last summer,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Not because she goes to Faulkner. Because you’re in bed with the Darlings now.”

“I can buy you a new car, Royal,” he says, turning angry eyes my way. “If I lose this contract… That’s the only piece of land with the location and space to do what I want to do.”

“Riiight,” I say. “It’s fine if they run me off the road, so long as you get your casino.”

“I don’t tell you every detail of the business because I expect you to tell me when you’re going to make a move against the Darlings,” Dad grits out. “I sure as hell shouldn’t find out after the fact!”

“I wasn’t aware that you were making deals with the Darlings,” I say, my voice cold. “Any other Darlings under your protection now, or just Preston’s family?”

“Just that family,” he says, his voice equally devoid of emotion, almost a challenge. He’s breathing hard, but he stares me down, daring me to say otherwise.

“Need us to help?” Duke asks, checking with me instead of Dad.

“I’ll take care of it.” I push back from the table and stand toe to toe with Dad. “Anyone else’s ass you need me to lick while I’m out?”

“You know how this business works, Royal. We scratch their backs, they scratch ours. That means the Roses, the Montgomerys, the Becketts, and the Delacroixs.”

“They’re Darlings now,” I say quietly, looking down at the bastard who spawned me. I’m taller than him and a hell of a lot stronger, but he still pulls the strings. We’re all puppets in the macabre theater of this family.

“I don’t care who she married,” Dad snaps. “You can do whatever the fuck you want with your Darling playthings, but you don’t touch anyone with a drop of Delacroix blood in their veins. Capisce?”

“Yeah, Dad,” I say coolly.

I understand all too well.