I wanted to look like a winner.
Heading back into the huge open lodge room near the balcony, I find Harper du Pont waiting for me. The main house is over sixteen thousand square feet, so it’s pretty easy to get lost. Maybe she thinks I’ll run off and try to duck out on our bet?
“So?” she asks as my heels click across the floor, and I come to stand in front of her, holding my clutch like a shield in front of my body. “Where are they?” My eyes scan the room and find Zack in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall to watch and wait. Miranda and Andrew are on the back patio, sitting around one of the fire pits with drinks in their hands. They don’t know about the bet, so they’re completely unaware of the tension building just inside the sliding glass doors.
The rest of the Bluebloods lounge on sofas and chairs in the room, watching me. They remind me of a vampire clan or something, pretty but dangerous. Elegant on the outside, blood-sucking demons underneath. My eyes narrow as Harper starts to pace around me.
Music begins to pour from the speakers, and the room fills with a huge crowd. There are second years, third years, and fourth years all mixed together. Doesn’t matter: they all know where the drama and action will be, and that’s wherever the Idols and their Inner Circle are.
Minutes tick past, and I sit down to wait. Almost an hour in, I start to get worried. I’m texting the guys, but getting no responses, and Harper is beginning to get impatient.
“You have until fifteen after,” she snaps at me, putting her hands on either one of the chair’s armrests and leaning in so close that I can smell her signature peach and vanilla scent. My stomach turns over with nausea, and Zack comes to stand beside me. “Fuck off, Brooks. This is Club business; you can’t do shit.” He growls at her, but he doesn’t move from his spot, flanking me like a bodyguard.
By this point, Miranda and Andrew have figured out that something’s up.
“You did what?!” Miranda snaps at me when I tell her, and I cringe. “I mean, it’s half brilliant and half completely and utterly insane.” She digs her own phone out, and starts to blow up Creed’s. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t be here,” she mutters, exhaling sharply. “He wouldn’t do something like that.”
By this point, news of the bet is spreading like wildfire. Everyone knows. And they’re all laughing at me.
It takes the Idols until an hour and a half after the party’s supposed to have started to show up.
I shoot up from my chair as the three of them walk in, still dressed in their school uniforms.
Zayd is the first to spot me, and he makes his way right over.
“Car trouble,” he says, and then he’s scowling as Greg Van Horn walks in behind him. He’s whistling and spinning his keys around on his finger, and that’s when I start to wonder if the guys were supposed to get here at all. Harper looks pissed. “Let me clarify: car trouble and phone trouble. Somebody stole our fucking phones.”
“Must’ve been a senior prank again, don’t you think, Harper?” Tristan asks, coming to stand right in front of her. “What the fuck is this all about? Clearly, you didn’t want us to show up tonight.” She shrugs her shoulders like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
I glance back at Creed as he comes to stand beside me, his eyes taking in the crowded room and the eagerly glinting eyes of the Bluebloods and Plebs alike.
“Marnye?” he drawls, his devil-may-care voice sending chills down my spine.
Harper decides to take over, coming to stand so close to me that the fabric of our dresses mingles together.
“So, Marnye, which one of these men is your date for tonight?” I glance between the three guys, and then I look her dead in the eye.
“All three of them,” I say, as Tristan turns to look at us, narrowing his eyes before he glances at Creed, and then Zayd. That’s when I notice Zayd’s bag sitting near the door … and the stupid trophy from last year resting against it. Moving over to pick it up, I turn to face a suddenly silent room.
“Well?” Harper asks, looking at Tristan quite pointedly. She reaches up with her engagement ring and wiggles her hand around for everyone to see. “Tristan? Is that true? Are you this girl’s date? I mean, she bet you would be. All three of you. She bet she could make you fall in love with her. So tell me: did she succeed?”
Clutching the trophy, I feel my heart race as the Idol boys exchange looks. There are no fancy videos or cans of paint or panties to throw, but at least I got them here. At least I did it. That is, if they choose to tell the truth. One lie from one boy could sink me right now.
“It’s true,” Zayd says, nostrils flaring. He stands up from his spot on the chair and addresses the room. “I’m here as her date.”
“So am I,” Creed drawls, watching me clutch that trophy with a certain sort of acceptance in his blue eyes. Miranda makes a squeaking sound, drawing her brother’s attention. They share one of those silent twin looks, and I exhale sharply.
I figured … the Idols would be pissed off.
Zayd and Creed, at least, don’t seem to be at all.
“I’m done hurting her,” Zayd says, his voice so loud it echoes through the cavernous room. Becky is gaping at him, but he doesn’t seem to give a shit. “Sorry, but I quit the game. I won’t do it anymore. Let Marnye have the trophy and leave her the fuck alone.”
Harper’s jaw clenches as she turns to Tristan.
“I’m your fiancée,” she says carefully, stepping close to him and taking hold of the lapels of his wool coat. “And I’ve got William on speed dial. So tell me, Tristan, are you here with me tonight … or with her?” The leader of the Bluebloods looks from Harper to me, his gray eyes burning.
“You know I’ve never been a faithful boyfriend,” Tristan muses absently, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Not to anyone but Lizzie.” He looks past Harper and straight at me. “I’m here with Marnye, too. So whatever stupid shit you bet her, give it up. You’ve lost.”
A slow easy smile works its way across Creed’s face as he steps up beside me and Andrew scrambles desperately to get out of his way. Miranda is still gaping, and Zack is still frowning. Me, I’m just hugging the trophy and trying to figure out if this is a dream. It’s working out well, almost too well. The only thing is … the Idol boys don’t seem to care that I’m trying to exact revenge on them. It’s like it doesn’t even matter to them at all. Or … maybe it does matter, but in a different way than I’d expected?
“You’re joking?” Harper scoffs as she glances back at Becky and Ileana before turning to me. “What the fuck did you do? Do you have a magic freaking vagina or something?” The crowd murmurs, and I frown.
“If I had sex with them or not is irrelevant,” I snap, clinging to the trophy and feeling like I’ve just aged ten years in five minutes. “They’re here, with me, and that’s that. You have to take care of my dad at your family’s medical center. And sorry, I won’t be groveling at your feet, so you can film it and post in on YouTube.” A ripple works its way through the crowd, and I see Creed’s blue eyes widen.
“You … made a bet for your father’s cancer treatments?” he asks mildly, and I nod.
“So, you started treating the man, threatened to stop doing it, and then somehow cornered Marnye into a bet you thought you couldn’t lose?” Zayd clarifies, and he sounds pissed, his rockstar voice rumbling with a slight growl. “Jesus, Harper, you’re even more fucked up than the rest of us.”
“I didn’t corner her: she came to me,” Harper chokes, turning to Tristan. “All I was trying to do was get rid of her. It’s what we’ve been trying to do all along.”
“I think I’ll have a drink,” Tristan says mildly, ignoring his fiancée completely. “Soda for you, Marnye?”
“Please,” I whisper, and the crowd parts as Tristan turns and heads over to the drink table. They leave a clear path for him to walk back and hand the cup with its clinking ice cubes over to me.
“This is …” Harper starts, but the
crowd’s already moved on. Infinity Club bets happen all the time. They saw a winner chosen, and now they’re over it. The only person who’s still obsessing is Harper du Pont. “She invited all three of you. She thinks you’re in love with her.”
“Maybe we are? Who the fuck are you to judge?” Zayd snaps, rising to his feet. He towers over Harper, and I get a small surge of pleasure as she backs up. “Marnye won, Infinity Club rules. Now move on and get over it.” He pushes her back with a finger to her shoulder, and she lets out one of her trademark screeches before turning and stomping away.
For a moment, I just stand there, shaking. And then I take my drink, my trophy, and my emotions, and I race up to my room and slam the door.
Miranda, Zack, and Andrew check on me, but I just need some time to process. I can’t decide if I’m upset that the guys aren’t emotionally wrecked the way I was … or relieved. And then … I feel so lost, like I have no idea what to do now.
After I’ve had some time to process, I dig around in my bags for some sweats, suddenly desperate to change out of this itchy dress, and realize that I’ve left my other bag in the car. Careful to avoid the crowd, I slip out the back door and past the gazebo where Harper and her cronies are drinking and complaining loudly about me.
Screw them.
I head over to the Lamborghini, unlock it, and grab my bag.
When I turn around, John Hannibal, Gregory Van Horn, and Harper du Pont are waiting for me with most of the other Bluebloods in tow.
“Get her,” Harper says, and I don’t even have time to scream before Greg is clamping a hand over my mouth and yanking me against his chest.
No fucking way, I think as they drag me across the lot, flailing and kicking and clawing at Greg’s hand. When John and that new guy, Ben, step in and each grab onto my legs, I know I’m in serious, serious trouble.
They take me around the back of the house and over to the funicular, shuffling us all inside, and pressing the button that’ll take us down to the beach. Under any other circumstances, I’d be excited to ride in this thing. As of right now, I’m terrified.
We hit the beach and immediately go for the dock, loading up on one of the boats and heading out to the lake. Dozens of other students are already out there, partying on different boats. Harper chooses a spot right in the middle of Lake Tahoe, and has Sai throw the anchor over.
We’re on the top deck now with nothing but a few lanterns and some white twinkle lights to brighten up the darkness.
Harper stares down at me, and then smiles.
“I think … we should start off the night seeing what a Working Girl can really do,” she begins, nodding her chin in Greg’s direction. His laughter is disturbing and dark as he and the other boys push me down to the deck and pin me with my legs spread wide.
That’s when it really hits me that this is happening.
They’re going to try and rape me.
I try to scream, but I can barely breathe past Greg’s hand. Immediately, my flight or fight instincts kick in, and I begin to flail. But when the boys have trouble holding me down, they just pile on a few more Bluebloods until there are six people holding me hostage.
John gives over the holding of my leg to Mayleen, and then moves over like he’s planning on kneeling down between my legs.
That’s when I hear the sputter of a small engine, and the creak of a ladder before Zack Brooks appears over the edge. He doesn’t hesitate before he throws himself at John, taking the other boy by complete surprise. A fight breaks out, and even with John, Greg, and Ben all attacking him at once, Zack stands his ground.
Now that there are less people holding me down, I fight even harder, dislodging Mayleen and kicking one of the kerosene lanterns. It breaks and then plunges over the edge, fire trailing along the spilled oil. Flames begin to lick at the side of the boat, and in quick succession, the other lanterns go up, too.
The Bluebloods holding me down drag me over to the ladder and basically toss me down to the lower deck. I hit with a grunt, just before Ileana grabs me by the hair, and some of the other girls get hold of my arms and legs. Even though I’m kicking and screaming, and flames are licking at the side of the boat, nobody notices or cares. The lake is vast, and there are plenty of bonfires on the beach, stereo systems blasting music, and screaming teenagers. I’m just a drop in a bucket.
Another small yacht has pulled up alongside the one we’re on, and the girls drag me over.
I’m once again manhandled up to the top deck and shoved into a chair, ropes wrapped around my wrists and ankles.
Harper is panting and looking from me to the other boat where Zack is still fighting with his fists.
“Keep her here until everyone else shows up,” Harper snaps at Becky, and I’m guessing she must have Pleb friends on the way, seeing as almost every Blueblood save Myron Talbot is here. “I’m done with this girl; this shit ends tonight.”
Harper storms over to me, and I spit at her. Her palm quickly comes up and cracks me across the face.
“What is wrong with you?!” I scream back, but like I said, I’m pretty sure she’s a sociopath or a psychopath or what the hell ever. Tonight, I beat her at her own game. She doesn’t like that. Not one bit.
“Break her fingers.” Harper snaps this order at her cronies, and then leans down to get in my face. “You will never, and I mean never play the harp again. How do you feel about that, you little bitch?”
“How do you feel about my boot up your ass?” Zayd says, appearing at the top of the ladder. He’s bleeding from the edge of his mouth, but he looks okay otherwise. He’s followed by Tristan, Creed, and Miranda.
Harper sneers at them as Zayd unties me and pulls me up, dragging us to the opposite side of the boat, so Tristan and Creed can help create a human shield around me. The rest of the Bluebloods come up the ladder, creating a divide in the center of the yacht. Zack is the last one up, and he ends up trapped behind them on the opposite side.
There are flames dancing across the water.
How that happened, I have no idea. One minute, we were struggling on Harper’s boat, and the next, the lantern was being knocked over and kerosene was spilling everywhere. How it got on the actual surface of the lake, I don’t know.
My heart pounds as I clutch my hands to my chest like they’re precious gems. I almost lost my ability to make music with the harp … forever. That, and they … I can’t think about the almost rape. Not right now. The Idol girls crossed a line not once, not twice, but now three times. The boys are right: they really do want to kill me. The Infinity Club might very well be the death of me for real.
Tristan’s jaw is clenched tight, his hands white knuckled and curled into fists. He looks at Harper with a glare that would scare the shit out of me if I were on the other end. She seems unfazed as she turns her blue gaze on me, pausing briefly to make sure she’s still got a sizable entourage before she comes at me again.
“Whatever you’re thinking about doing right now,” Tristan says, his voice as smooth as pure cognac, “don’t.” He snaps that word off the end of his tongue, anger palpable in the chiseled lines of his handsome face. They saved me, I think, glancing from Tristan to Zayd’s bloody lip to Creed with his arm around Miranda. Poor Zack is still stuck on the opposite side of the boat, behind a wall of enemy Bluebloods.
“If you do this,” Harper begins, moving forward with her short brown hair—courtesy of Windsor York—billowing in the wind. Don’t dish it if you can’t take it. Moving back a step, I end up bumping into Zayd. One of his arms goes around me, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. It’s like with every breath, I waffle between being excited and being terrified. Please don’t touch me; touch me more; get away from me; kiss me until I see stars. “Then you’re giving up control of the school. You’re Plebs, all of you.”
Abigail Fanning and Valentina Pitt flank Harper as she moves toward us, the chair with the ropes still attached sitting between their group and ours. When I glance past Harper toward Zack, I
can see that he’s bleeding from his fight.
“If you think we’ll fold that easy,” Creed drawls, glancing at me and making my entire body light up with feeling. He’s quivering, too, but he tries to keep it hidden as he tosses some of his angelic hair back from his face. Would this be an inappropriate moment to think about the hot tub? Yeah, probably. “Then you clearly haven’t been paying attention. We’ll destroy you.”
Harper’s mouth is as sharp as a blade, and her eyes glimmer with rage and hate. She does not like losing—especially not to someone like me. To her credit, she’s managed to pull in most of the Bluebloods to her side. The rest, we won’t know about until we get to shore. What she does have is a trio of boys—Greg, John, and Ben—who will likely become her side’s version of the Idols.
“So you’ll break up the greatest collection of Bluebloods in the history of Burberry Prep for some commoner? We’re the future rulers of the world. People live and die based on the decisions our families make. Tristan, I’m your fiancée.” Harper starts to move forward, and then pauses as the ladder creaks, announcing the newest attendee to our little soiree.
Windsor York, my secret weapon and amazing new friend, appears with a smirk.
“Well, bloody hell.” He hauls himself over the edge and then stands up before brushing his palms down the front of his uniform. His hazel eyes take in the scene in one, fell swoop. “Looks like I’m a bit late to the party.”
Without hesitation, he moves over to stand in front of Zayd and offers me his hand. It’s impressive how the flames from the burning boat turn his red hair, crimson. Zayd pulls me back when I reach out for Windsor, and the prince cocks an eyebrow before sighing.
“Yeah, way late, asshole.” Zayd is pissed, but not at me and not even at Windsor, but at the whole situation. Even though I appreciate the sentiment, I elbow myself from his grip and take up a strong stance of my own. Even though my friends are here, and I appreciate them, I can’t fully trust anyone but myself. “If we hadn’t gotten here when we did …” Zayd’s voice trails off, but he has to know that Windsor is most definitely on our side. He was just helping in other ways. That much I do know.
Bad, Bad Blu Bloods Page 27