Page 122 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“Must be my limitless charm,” I reply, smiling right back at my mother as she adjusts her sweater and straightens out her skirt. “She’s easy enough to wrangle. I’m sure I could marry her and own her ass the way I do every woman’s.”
That makes Ophelia rankle, and she scowls at me.
“Not that trashy girl,” she says, and I smile wider. We both know that’s what I mean, every girl but Bernadette. She can be controlled by no man. I let out a derisive snort. No wonder Ophelia hates her so much: they’re similar in so many ways. Not sure what that means for me and my mommy issues though, huh? “That no-nothing whore you’re so obsessed with. Just like your father, chasing after the sweetest tasting pussy.”
“If she’s such a waste of life then why are you so fixated on her?” I ask, and the way my mother looks back at me actually scares me in a way that’s so unfamiliar that I lower the cigarette by my side, careful not to drop it.
“Because I’ve never seen you this way before,” Ophelia says, smiling as she reaches up a pale hand to touch my cheek. “First love is so powerful that I once let your father of all people manipulate me,” she whispers, getting far too close to me for comfort. I don’t let my mother touch me, on principle. We haven’t hugged since I was seven years old. That was her choice, back then. Now it’s mine.
Carefully, slowly, I use the hand that isn’t holding the cigarette to grab her wrist and push it away. I love that I’m so much taller than her, so I can stare down at her like something unfortunate that deserves to be stepped on.
“Ruby wanted me to have that money,” I say carefully, giving Ophelia a hard look. “It was your mother’s dying wish. Why are you fighting this so hard?”
“Invoking my dead mother’s name won’t get me off the subject,” she says, stepping away from me and wiping her palm on her sweater-vest like she’s trying to shake off something extremely unpleasant, like a son from a rotten first marriage perhaps.
Look what you’ve done to me, I think as I look at her with sad eyes. Look what you’ve made me become. I am your creation as well as your son. If this woman had loved me, if she’d taken care of me, who would I be right now?
“Tell me what deal you’ve made with Trinity Jade, and I’ll tell you all about Bernadette,” I offer, and Ophelia looks askance at me. There’s the briefest flicker of fear in her gaze. Maybe she can hear in my voice how serious I am right now? “Just to be clear, this is a onetime offer. Because if I ever—and I mean ever—get you alone in a room, I’m going to kill you.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Victor,” Ophelia says, waving her hand dismissively in my direction. We both know how serious I am. “Does it matter to you why I’m doing this? You benefit from it as well.” She looks out across the green, shading her eyes with her hand. It’s too rainy today, so there’s nobody out there, just endless green lawns and trees.
“I haven’t forgotten what you did to Aaron,” I remind her, wishing I hadn’t seen the look I did on her face. I told Bernadette that we had to make sure that Ophelia never knew how much she meant to me. Never. Because if she truly has grasped it, Bernadette is in trouble—especially if I fuck this Trinity thing up too soon.
But I’m not a goddamn whore and at some point, that girl is going to want me to put out.
I have to deal with this before then.
“The Grand Murder Party,” I start, thinking how stupid their gang’s name is. I had to do it, Google the worst gangs in the United States just to see. The names don’t ever get any better. I smile around my cigarette as I take a drag. Havoc isn’t half bad, comparatively. “What are you doing with them?”
“Victor, just marry the girl you were given, have a little fun with her. She even told you that you could keep your sidepiece.” She turns to look at me with an exasperated expression on her aristocratic face. “I appreciate you putting up a pretend fight, but we both know this is the only way forward that doesn’t end in bloodshed.”
“You’re right,” I tell her, exhaling and then flicking my cigarette into the fountain, the same one I stood by when I first brought Bernadette here. Her blond hair shone like gold in the sunshine and the frown on her sharp lips made me feel like I was being eviscerated. “It’s the only way.”
I turn away and open the back door of the club, slipping inside in a dark t-shirt and jeans, boots and bullshit. I didn’t dress up today, but now that Ophelia and Trinity are vouching for me, the front doors open like magic; the employees treat me like a god.
