Brutal Boy by Selena

thirteen

Royal Dolce

I pull up behind the three cop cars in the driveway, my fingers tight around the wheel.

“What the fuck do they want now?” Duke asks.

“I don’t think they’re here for Dad,” Baron says, nodding at the house.

Duke swears and jumps out. How he missed the vandalism, I’ll never know. That dude’s mind is a strange thing. Baron and I climb out, too. There are cops standing around on their walkies, someone taking pictures, a few more filling out a report. A couple are talking to Dad and the house manager, who will lose his job for this one. He should have been here all day. To miss this, he must have been either out of the house, passed out drunk, or off fucking the cook in a closet somewhere.

That, or in the Darlings’ pocket.

Ignoring them, I start across the lawn. The rage inside me simmers quietly, coldly. I don’t need to talk to the cops. I know who did this. We may have beat back the Darling tide, but it never really ends. Not as long as a single Darling breathes air in this town.

Red paint drips down the two curving staircases on the front of the house that Crystal said look like arms. He must have stood up there and tipped over a paint can at the top of each. The paint doesn’t follow the curve all the way around, but it’s enough. It drips through the steps like blood, splattering the white gravel below.

He left the lower level alone, either because that’s where the staff was working or because he wanted to broadcast his message. Along the top floor, his words are painted eight feet high, like a billboard to every car driving into the neighborhood. Ours is only the third house down, which means everyone else in the gated community passes our house on their way home. No doubt some of them will snap pics, and this will be all over the internet by this evening.

I pull out my phone.

“It’s gotta be Preston,” Baron says quietly as he and Duke step up beside me. “Just because someone disappears, that doesn’t mean they’re gone.”

The words hang heavy in the air. Even Duke doesn’t pop out a smart-ass comeback.

“I’m checking with Gloria now,” I say, shooting her a message.

Royal: u ok?

ThatsLo: yeah why?

Royal: where r u?

ThatsLo: omw home

Royal: stop at my house 1st

ThatsLo: k

“Preston,” I say quietly, staring up at the words.

BLOOD MONEY

They’re messy, a single stroke for each line, but it still would have taken him a while to do this considering their size.

“Think about it,” Baron says. “We fucked up Colt, and a week later, they fuck up our house.”

“But any of them could do that,” Duke says.

“Would any of the adults do this?” Baron asks, gesturing. “Or key our cars like a little bitch?”

“If they want to die,” I say, thinking of what I did to the Darling men who chose to stay in Faulkner. Even my brothers don’t know about that. Only me and Dad know that dirty little secret. Well, us and the dickless Darlings walking around town. It gives me a small moment of vindication when I see one of them and know. And then the shame sets in.

Of course, some of them scattered like roaches, and like roaches, they could have returned.

Devlin’s parents, for instance. I frown at the empty house next door. I keep a close watch on it, and so far, no sign that they ever intend to come back and tear down the eyesore.

“Let’s burn down Preston’s house,” Duke says, bouncing up and down like a boy about to get his first box of matches. He must have seen where my attention was focused.

“That’s one way to flush out rats,” I say, turning back to our house.

“Preston doesn’t live there,” Baron points out. “We’ve got to think about this logically. Have a strategy. Driving by and tossing a flaming bottle of gasoline is too obvious.”

Trust Baron to be the levelheaded one.

“Then let me finish off Devlin’s house,” Duke says. “It’ll let them know we’re onto them, but it gives us time to find out where he lives, what he drives, all that shit.”

“You’ll be doing the neighborhood a favor,” I agree. The fuckers love rubbing shit in our faces. Not only does that burnt shell bring down the value of the neighborhood, as Dad likes to point out, but we have to look at it all fucking day.

Duke rubs his hands together in anticipation and gives an evil laugh, mimicking some cartoon villain he’s seen. He may be clowning, but I see the truth behind it. He’s about to cum his pants just picturing the blaze.

I leave them when Lo’s Mustang pulls up at the end of the drive. I jog down and meet her.

“Oh my god,” Everleigh says, rolling down the window. “What happened?”

“Probably some punks skipping school,” I say with a shrug, like it doesn’t matter.

“From our neighborhood?” Eleanor asks. “Do you think our house is okay?”

I could kiss the idiot for giving me such a good opening.

“I’ll run by and check,” I say, opening the passenger door.

Everleigh slides out, pretending to trip and fall into me. Lo rolls her eyes and grins. I help her sister into the back and then slide into the passenger seat. “You really think they hit more than one house?” she asks.

“Probably not,” I admit. “I just want to be there when you get home and make sure everything checks out.”

“Thanks,” she says. “But you know we have Dawson.”

I shrug it off. I can’t tell her the truth of it, that Dawson’s way too soft to deal with Preston Darling, if this was really his doing. None of them have any idea how close he got to Lo last year. I’m not going to give her one more thing to worry about, so I don’t fill her in. There’s nothing much to tell. I traded her safety for a chance to get Preston once last year, and I’ll do it again in a heartbeat. End of story.

Lo is… Rare.

Her grit and tenacity and strength remind me of another girl I know, another girl who showed me it’s possible to feel something besides hate for someone who doesn’t carry my blood. But that’s different. Lo is an honorary Dolce, loyal and brave and fucking fierce, the way I imagine Crys would be if she’d survived the Darlings and come out the other side.

Harper is the enemy.

If it weren’t for the fact that we had eyes on her all day, she’d be first on my list of suspects. She loves painting, after all, and she hates us.

Suddenly all I can think about is her breathy whisper in the dark this morning, and my cock throbs inside my pants.

“Put it in.”

Christ.

I wanted to. I wanted to see if my cock would even fit in that tight little cunt that squeezed my finger like a vice, like it couldn’t take anything bigger. I wondered if all her big talk about fucking that tattoo artist was just a front to make her seem tough because she didn’t want to admit she’s a fucking virgin. She was tight enough to be one. That’s not what stopped me. I wanted to fuck her anyway, to force my cock through that tiny opening, rip her wide open and make her scream. I wanted to make her cum so hard she blacked out, and then fuck her unconscious body until she drowned in my cum.

But not there.

Not where I can feel the ghost, the monster, watching over my shoulder. He’s too strong there. I don’t know what I might do to her if I let myself.

Gloria’s hand falls on my forearm, her wicked nails grazing my skin. “House looks fine,” she says, giving me a squeeze, bringing me back.

“I’ll go in and check with you,” I say. “Just to be sure.”

She rolls her eyes, and I know she thinks I’m being overbearing and all that shit. If she knew Preston, and she knew she was on his radar, she’d stop with the attitude. But I can deal with the attitude better than she could deal with the danger, so I shrug it off and go inside with them, noting that the alarm system was on all day and everything looks fine before I’m satisfied. The Walton twins are looking at me all swoony by the time I walk out, and I hear Everleigh whisper, “How does she get him to go all caveman protective like that?”

I shake my head and hold the door for Lo, who steps out under my arm. She’s changed into workout gear while I was checking the house, and now she hooks her hand into my elbow, swinging her hair around as we walk down the drive.

“Do you ever stop?” I ask.

“Not when there are people watching,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Yep, they’re at the window right now.”

“Sucks you can’t be real in your own house.”

“That’s why I have you,” she says, smiling up at me as we start back toward my house on foot. “Now, I know you have a joint on you, so light up before anyone sees me.”

I shake my head and pull my little wooden box from my pocket, taking out a joint and lighting it. Lo looks around at all the houses, turning into me to surreptitiously take a hit before pushing it back into my palm.

“Everything okay?” she asks. “You seemed a little… Off today.”

“Don’t do this, Lo.”

“Okay,” she says. “You know I’m here, though.”

“Same.”

I hit the joint and pass it back. She hides behind my arm to inhale, then blows smoke into my shirt.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m going home to talk to the cops smelling like a dispensary.”

“You’re not afraid of the cops,” she says, swatting my arm.

I smirk down at her. “Why would I be?”

“Sooo,” she says. “Nothing’s wrong? Did you talk to your mom about what happened on Friday?”

I cock a brow at her. “You talked to your dad lately?”

“Touché,” she says, grinning. “Fair enough. You going to let me run alone today?”

“Not a chance.”

“Perfect. Everyone needs to think we’re together if we’re going to win prom. Might as well start now.”

“Your ambition is fuckin’ disturbing, you know that?”

“Do you really want to go there?”

“Not really,” I admit as we reach our house and turn into the drive. Only one cop is still here, probably having a drink with Dad. In a town this small, you gotta win ‘em all.

“Go get changed,” Lo says. “Wear something sleeveless. You know all the neighbor ladies like to watch you run.”

I shake my head at her nerve. “Shouldn’t you be against objectifying people? Isn’t that part of your whole feminist agenda thing?”

“Eh, men have been doing it for centuries. I figure it’s our turn. And you know I’m kidding. You’re just as hot in a tie as you are in a tank.” She gives me a wink.

“Go fuck yourself, Lo.”

She glances down the road before leaning into me, standing on tiptoes like she’s about to kiss me when Cotton’s Jeep appears through the gate. “I just want them to know we exercise together,” she says, sliding a hand behind my neck and batting her eyes at me. “Is that so wrong? You never know when someone from school or a relative in the neighborhood is watching out the window.”

My fucked up head goes straight to Harper. This will get back to school, and though it’s nothing exciting, it’s one more thread in the tapestry of lies Lo is weaving about her life, one little piece that makes the whole more credible. If Harper hears about it, will she think it means something? Will she be jealous?

When she goes home at night, does she think about me? Is she at home right now, remembering today, how I touched her, how it felt when I made her cum? Is she touching herself, pushing her own finger into her cunt and wishing it was mine?

The better question is, why the fuck do I care? It doesn’t matter how good I made her feel, how hard she came. All that matters is that she knows she’s mine now, that I control her body, her pleasure, her pain.

And that I know that she’s nothing but a name to add to a list, a job to do, a plaything to amuse myself with until it’s all used up. Enjoying the process is optional. It ends the same either way.