Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“You hear that?” I ask him.
“Huh?” Fenn is bent over the table to line up his next shot.
“Did it just get quiet in here?”
He ignores me. More concerned with the careful geometry of sinking the 12 and 2 in opposite side pockets.
The dorm tends to exhibit the constant hum of a hundred teenage boys roaming around grunting, farting, and fighting. Add to that at least as many televisions, laptops, phones, and anything else that makes a sound, all of it echoing down the halls and traveling through the ductwork. You don’t notice how loud it gets until you walk outside and your ears exhale.
So when it’s suddenly silent except for the crack of Fenn striking the cue ball and cursing under his breath, I know that trouble has found me.
“Round two, motherfucker.” Duke comes charging in from the hall with bulging veins. “I’m here to answer your death wish.”
“Whoa, Duke. Slow down, big guy.” Fenn throws himself in Duke’s path, still holding the cue stick in a clear warning. “We’re in the middle of a game.”
“Fuck your game.” He speaks to me over Fenn’s shoulder. “Liked the first beating so much you went begging for a second, huh?”
We realize when he shoves him at us that Duke’s dragged the sophomore in with him. Shit. I knew I should have had the talk with that kid about keeping our arrangement on the DL. Some people don’t appreciate discretion.
“Who’s this?” Fenn plays dumb for as long as it’ll keep Duke from throwing furniture at my head.
Duke nods at the sophomore, who looks like he’s already changed pants once today.
“Tell him what you did.”
Reluctant, the kid glances around the room, his jaw working as if he’s gnawing on his own tongue.
“Out with it,” Duke snaps, “or a nurse will be pulling billiard balls out of your ass with salad tongs.”
“Fuck, man. Okay.” The kid takes a steadying breath and only briefly meets my eyes like we’re two prisoners standing over the gallows as the nooses are tightened around our necks. “I took the pictures you gave me yesterday and sent them to a few group chats with people I know at Ballard.”
“The whole school has seen them,” Duke interjects. “The guy’s been crucified.”
Good.
“Have you seen the pictures?” I step out from behind Fenn, who warns me with his eyes to keep my damn mouth shut. But I have no remorse whatsoever loading that kid’s revenge canon and setting him on his merry way.
“I don’t have to.” Maybe Duke wouldn’t be so smug if he had to answer to his indignation in a more public forum.
“If I were you, I’d want to know what I was defending before I went around associating myself with it.”
Duke’s expression betrays a moment of hesitancy. Now he’s wondering if he’s made a huge mistake. Maybe I’m naïve, but I’m giving Duke the benefit of the doubt that being a bully doesn’t necessarily make him the sort of guy who’s palling around with people who wear blackface to parties. Then again, plausible deniability is also complicity. After a beat, he jerks his head at the sophomore and tells him to get lost.
“The point is,” Duke says to me, his voice low, “you keep stepping out of bounds. Pretty sure I made the rules clear the last time we had a chat.”
“Whatever. My conscience is clear on this one. Call it a public service.”
Beside me I feel Fenn sigh. Because he knows I can’t help myself.
“I warned him,” Duke tells Fenn. “I spelled it out in capital fucking letters.”
“He comes from public school,” Fenn pleads. “I don’t know. He’s got some sort of learning disorder. It’s all the lead pipes in the water fountains.”
“Nah, bro. We’re past favors and forgiveness. He can’t keep doing whatever the hell he wants. I’ve had enough. I want my cut. And I want him to admit I run this place.”
“No, you know what?” I’m fed up now. I’m standing right here, but these two are talking about me like parents fighting over a kid throwing a tantrum in the restaurant. “I’ve fucking had enough. I don’t know where you get this maniacal sense of entitlement. Or why the hell everyone else lets a ’roided-out fuckboy tie a bedsheet around his neck and call it a cape, but I’m done playing Lost Boys.”
“RJ.” Fenn’s warning tone begs me to shut up. But I’m on a roll. “Don’t.”
“Are you challenging me to a rematch?” A sick grin stretches across Duke’s face.
I flick up an eyebrow. “Even better. I’m challenging you for your job.”
Chapter 32
RJ
“Jesus Christ.” Fenn throws his hands up and stares at me in disbelief.
“Oh, I love this,” Duke says slowly, giving me a dismissive once-over. “I’m in.”
“Great. Let’s make this happen,” I tell Duke, because I’m not sure I’m totally in control of my mouth at this point.