Page 71 of Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 5)
A chill takes over me, but I hide it by sipping the Coke in my hand.
Property near Veneta … means Tom Muller’s property.
Means our bodies, dug up and exposed to the light of day. The only thing I can say about that is, we were very careful about leaving any evidence behind. If the VGTF finds our buried friends in the woods, they’ll connect them to the GMP. This could actually be a blessing in disguise for us, a chance to wash ourselves of our sins and start with a clean slate.
“Anything else?” I ask, and Brittany turns a look on me that’s so poisonous that I stand up and set the soda can aside.
“If you came over here just to grill me for gang crap, you can go.” She stands up and storms off down the hallway. Using my well-adjusted man-whore senses, I can tell she wants me to go after her, grab her by the shoulder, throw her into the wall and kiss her.
I’m more likely to plant one on Principal Vaughn, if you know what I mean.
I turn to head for the door as she screams at me from down the hall.
“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out!” she screeches as I roll my eyes and slam the front door behind me. Just in time to see Brittany’s dad, Forrest, pull into the driveway beside the Camaro.
Fucking hell.
“You,” he snarls, which is the most he ever really says to me. His beady eyes drift down to Oscar, sitting in the passenger seat of the Camaro with the window rolled down. In Forrest’s face, I can see that he’s remembering parading us down the hallways of Prescott High like he’d actually won something.
Once, there was this New York City mafia man named John Gotti. He was known as Teflon Don because the authorities could never get any charges to stick. Well, that’s Havoc. Shit just don’t stick to us.
“Me,” I reply, opening the door on the driver’s side and pausing as Forrest, the head of the local division of the VGTF and former chief of police for SPD, shoves my door closed, nearly severing my fucking fingers. On the inside, I felt that same familiar darkness, the twisting inside of me that promises I can never actually be a good guy—no matter how bad I want it.
All I can do is wear a cape for Blackbird. That’s what I got to offer.
“If you and your gangbanging friends know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your noses clean and stay out of the shadows. Maxwell Barrasso is not a man you want to piss off. Much as I’d like to see you locked up for tormenting my baby girl, you are the father of her baby. I expect to see you stick around.” He leans in toward me, nostrils flaring, bald head shiny under the weak February sunlight. “I’ll be watching you, pathetic little punk-ass.”
Forrest turns away and heads up the front walk while I reopen the driver’s side door of the Camaro and slide onto the leather seat where Bernie and I fucked for the first time. My mouth twitches and I can’t resist pulling out my phone to select “Fire Up the Night” by New Medicine. Ahh, sweet, sweet memories.
“Anything interesting to report?” Oscar asks, silver gaze focused on the iPad as he plots and schemes and calculates risks in that way of his. I find it annoying as shit, but Bernie practically wets her panties when he hisses insults her way. Guess the hate-sex must be pretty hot, huh?
“VGTF is bringing cadaver dogs to Tom’s property,” I say, and Oscar pauses. After a moment, he shrugs and turns back to the iPad. When I glance over, I see that he’s working on our applications for Oak Valley Prep.
Ugh.
Prep school?
Gag me with a motherfucking spoon.
The thought of attending that prestigious shitbox makes me queasy, but I can see the merits in it. Protection, for one, and in a much nicer place than our Prescott rental. Two, a diploma which Vic needs more than any of us. I’d say he could go alone, but we can’t afford to be separated, not right now. And three, we can keep an eye on that Trinity bitch.
Looks like Blackbird might get to see me in one of those preppy uniforms after all.
“This could be good for us,” Oscar says, echoing my thoughts. I nod and start the engine, glancing over my shoulder as I pull out of the driveway. The next-door neighbor is staring at me like I’ve just walked out of a racist HP Lovecraft novel. The guy was a kook, but he came up with some weird shit.
I flip the woman off as I drive by.
“Provided we’re not executed before graduation, yeah, I’d say it could be very good for us.”
