by Teagan Kade
“I’m not a field looking to be sown.”
“Still got that no-sex-on-the-first-date rule, huh?”
“Something like that. I don’t like the idea of casual sex. I want sex to be more than sex, a genuine emotional attachment.”
“It’s so,” Zoe twists her face up in disgust, “primitive. There are other things you can do, you know. Let him do you in the bum. Anal’s all the rage with you virgin types.”
“You say it like I have leprosy.”
“Do you? What, the idea of a little bum tickle doesn’t interest you?”
I think about the size of Spencer. “I still want an ass, Zoe, not an aircraft hangar. He’s very well hung.”
“So that is what you are worried about?” she laughs. “That vag of yours? It was designed to pop out a human watermelon. I don’t think Big Ben is going to be too much drama. Besides, you’ll be so wet you’ll barely notice.”
“You think?” But I know she’s right. Even now I can feel myself growing slick and hot between my thighs.
“Look,” she says, taking my hands. “Listen to the god Nike. Just. Fucking. Do. It. Go over there, right now.”
“It’s ten o’clock.”
“And you’re not ninety-nine wearing a nappy. Get the fuck out. Go!” She’s throwing my coat at me. “Go! Go!”
I stand up as she backs me towards the door. “Fine. What are you going to do?”
She throws herself onto the bed, TV remote in hand. “Empty out your mini bar, of course.”
*
The cab pulls up to Spencer’s apartment. I’m about to get out when I see Spencer on his bike halfway down the street. What are you up to? I point. “Follow that bike.”
The driver, a Pakistani man named ‘Peter’, nods and drives on.
Twenty minutes out of London and we still haven’t caught up to him, but at least I know where we are going. But why? Why would Spencer go all the way to Cambridge in the middle of the night? Suddenly I’m caught, but I’m curious, always have been. I’ve got to find out what he’s up to.
I tell the driver to hang back, surprised he’s managed to tail Spencer for this long. “Do you know where he’s going, miss?”
“Cambridge.”
The driver laughs. “That’s going to be an expensive ride.”
“My company’s paying,” I reply. “Just don’t lose him.”
An hour later we arrive at the campus, Spencer parking his bike in the shadows near what I believe to be Trinity Hall.
I tell the driver to cut the lights and park, fishing through my purse and handing over an indiscriminate amount of fifties. “Thanks.”
‘Peter’ fans through them. “No, thank you, miss. Boyfriend?”
I open the door and step out. “Not yet.”
I keep to the walls and shadows as much as I can, following Spencer as he makes his way across a courtyard.
“Spenny!” comes a jovial voice.
I crouch down behind a series of shrubs, peering between the foliage. I don’t recognize the figure that approaches Spencer, but by his voice he seems around the same age. It looks like they’re both dressed up. Maybe they’re attending something formal?
At this hour, and why weren’t you invited?
It does seem suspicious.
I look back. The cab is still idling there. I could forget all this madness and go back to the hotel, but yet again, curiosity gets the better of me.
The two start walking off and I follow at a distance, darkness my ally.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SPENCER
“Have you fucked her yet, Spenny?”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” I reply.
William has managed to catch me on a high—a literal one. I would have never agreed to come to a Club meeting otherwise. Truth is, I needed a pep-up after seeing her again, something to take the edge of this obsession.
We pull into the shadows as a security guard passes on the lawn. It scares me this is something that comes by instinct. You’ve been hanging around these guys too long. We keep walking.
William’s looking more pale than usual in the dark. “The gentleman will tell if he wants to see that ten-thousand pounds.”
“I don’t need your money, Willy.”
“Ten-thousand pounds—that’s enough coke for, I don’t know, a decade.”
I spin and push him up against the wall. “Don’t you ever fucking talk about that aloud again, you hear me?”
He eases me back. “Spenny, what the hell is wrong with you?”
My fist tightens, the coke keeping me juiced.
Realization falls over his face. “It is that fucking journalist twat, isn’t it? She’s got you by the balls.”
Control yourself.
“My god. Have you fallen for this girl, Spenny?”
“It’s none of your fucking business.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. And you haven’t fucked that freckly little hole of hers?”
I shove him back again. “Enough.”
He dusts himself off. “Okay, Spenny, but be careful. Like I said, these writer types… They’ll do anything for the scoop, fuck you twice as hard in the long run if you let them.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
The conversation wanes as we head into the oldest part of the university. “Where did you say we’re meeting tonight?”
William’s eyes go wide. “The crypt.”
“Charming.”
“It’s tradition, Spenny.”
“Isn’t everything in this cursed country?”
*
Everyone’s here, with one notable exception.
The Club captain, Nigel, seems to have procured himself an actual cane and monocle. “Your brother didn’t see fit to join us tonight, Spencer?”
There’s a smell down here I can’t quite place. Something rotten.
Nigel runs his hand through candle flame. “Had a prior engagement, did he?”
I see there are light bulbs above, but they remain off. Such modernity wouldn’t be right for a Club meeting. So, candles it is.
“He did,” not that I fucking know. He can do what he wants.
“Never mind. What of campus life, gentleman?”
The usual conversation follows. The Chaos Club might cloak itself as a gathering of sharp minds and wit, but at the end of the day they’re only interested in juvenile pursuits—money and pussy, simple as that.
Talk turns to me. Nigel sits back against a stone coffin, the candlelight strangely flattering. “I hear you’ve got a shadow, Spencer.”
I don’t want the Club having anything to with Grace. “She’s harmless.”
I notice a look exchange between William and Nigel, something I am not privy to.
Nigel starts pacing towards me, twirling his cane. He was a clown in school, but no more. He has real money now, real power thanks to Daddy. “Are you sure? Americans can be awfully intrusive. We can handle her, you know.”
Handle her. I hate the phrasing of it. “I think I’ve got it.”
Nigel stands before me, two hands on top of the cane. “William tells me she’s quite attractive, a real Bella Swan.”
“I haven’t noticed.”
He steps closer still. “You’re lying. You’d put your dick in a rock if it had a hole. You can’t honestly tell me you aren’t trying to get a piece of that.”
I decide to deflect. “And what about the Prime Minister’s wife, Nigel? How is she these days?”
He smiles, but it’s full of venom. He’s simply waiting for his moment to strike. “She’s fine, for the moment.”
I’m finally seeing these guys for who they are. “You’re not concerned it will come out?”
He turns away, dismissing the threat, walking back to the others. “Even if the PM does find out, he won’t act on it.”
“And why’s that?” I continue. “I mean, you are fucking his wife.”
Nigel sniggers, the sound of it reverberating long and deep into the c
rypt. “Everyone knows the old bugger only got in because of our influence, Spencer. I mean, what do you think we are? A couple of boys sitting around in the dark? No, no, we’re far greater than that. We make lives and destroy them. We control the most powerful men in the country. How do you think we got you off those charges so easily? You take a man off the street who did that and he’d probably be hanged. Look at you. You’re free, out there enjoying the festivities, and we will be forever grateful for your services. Here, he tosses over a baggie. A small token of our appreciation.”
I kick the coke away. “I’m not a dog.”
Nigel holds his cane out, an open gesture. “My mistake.”
I watch him carefully, can’t believe I used to idolize him in school, but I’m nothing if not loyal, even if it is to my detriment.
We separate into smaller groups, casks of wine broken open and drunken straight from the bottle. I partake, if only to clear my mouth of the bile that’s been filling it all night. The coke’s wearing off and I’m sure as hell not liking where it’s left me.
It’s as I’m speaking to William that I see something.
There’s a flicker of movement from the stairs. I look closer.
Fuck no.
“Gentlemen,” I interrupt, “would you excuse me?”
They barely hear me, they’re so engrossed in conversation.
I move to the stairwell and take Grace by the arm, spinning her behind the wall, whispering, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Spencer—”
“Did you follow me here?”
She looks terrified. “Yes.”
I look back into the crypt. Everyone’s still talking. “You can’t be here.”
“Spencer!” comes William’s shrill voice. “Do you need a hand out there, old man?”
“Fuck off, Willy,” I reply, mouthing ‘go’ to Grace, but before she has a chance to get up the stairs, I hear Nigel. “Wait just a moment there, young lady.”
Fucking hell.
“Go!” I whisper, but Grace freezes. She has no idea what she’s gotten herself into.
Nigel approaches. “Yes, darling, come down and join us here. We don’t bite.”
Grace steps down the stairs and into the main chamber. I come up beside her, protective. Her overconfidence is going to be the end of her.
“Nigel,” I caution.
“It’s okay, Spenny. We’re all friends here, are we not? Grayson, the doors.”
Grayson moves to the doors behind us, closing them shut.
Nigel takes Grace’s hand. “Grace, isn’t it, from America?”
I tighten further.
She looks to me, but I’m powerless to protect her here. “That’s right.”
“You’ve become quite close to our Spencer here, haven’t you, my dear?” He brings her hand to his lips, his eyes on me the whole time.
I swear to God. If he touches her…
She remains calm. “Yes, I’m doing a piece on him for the New York Times.”
I don’t like the way William is looking at her. I don’t like the way any of them are looking at her.
Nigel winks at me. “We know. We know a lot, Grace.”
“I’d like to hear about it.”
Nigel lets her hand drop and walks away. “You want to hear all about our unofficial, unsanctioned little club here, all about our traditions and secret handshakes, yes?”
I look closer. Grace’s sweating. She’s not the only one.
She laughs, but it’s forced. “Nothing quite so personal, no.”
Nigel puts his hands behind his back, tapping the top of the cane against his shoulders, pacing. “You know what I think? I think you’re not quite being honest with us.”
“I—”
“Shush now. I think you’re only getting close to Spencer to expose us, him, whoever it may be. That is the American way, after all—sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong, but you do have such a cute little nose, doesn’t she, boys?”
The others come closer, form a circle around us. I can’t take them all.
Nigel speaks directly to me. “You know the rules, William. We share everything here, and most definitely pretty female guests.”
“She’s not a guest.”
“My point exactly. She is an intruder, and as we know, intruders must be punished according to Club rules.”
“Club rules? Come on, Nigel. Let’s be adults here.”
“Don’t be condescending now, Spencer. What fun is there in that?”
Nigel stands still, eyes on Grace. “Have you fucked our Spenny yet, Grace? Taken the personal tour of Big Ben?”
The others snigger. My fists clench.
Grace turns. “I’m leaving.”
The others block her path.
“Not so fast,” says Nigel. “Did you know you’re worth ten-thousand pounds?”
This gets her attention. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Nigel gestures to William, smirking like a snake-oil salesman beside him. “William here offered our Spencer ten-thousand pounds if he fucked you within the week. Have you, Spenny? Have you fucked that pale slot of hers yet?”
I lash forward, but the others bail up my arms. “Fuck you, Nigel!”
“Now, now, Spencer. Be a sport, hey? I’ll tell you what, Grace. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if you’ve sucked his cock or not, taken it five ways to Sunday, but there are ten of us here, all very horny, very randy.” He pulls a clip of bills from his pocket. “Service us instead and you can have fifteen, right here, right now.”
Grace looks confused. “Service you?”
Nigel looks to the others. “Do I need to spell it out? All you Yank girls love dick, don’t you? College girl Sigma-Phi cock-suckers. The Greek system over there’s a slut machine. Everyone knows it.”
Her back’s up. I watch her whole posture change, and I’m proud. “Why don’t you suck your own cock, provided you can find it?”
Nigel undoes his belt, pulling down his jocks and holding his dick in his hand, shaking it at her. “Is this enough for you to handle?”
I lunge again, but the Murphey brothers are on the rugby team, mountains of muscle. I’m not going anywhere.
Grace turns and runs straight into the others. They take her by the arms and force her to her knees. She kicks out, gets one of them good in the shin, but it’s not enough.
Nigel approaches her with his member. I’m going to fucking kill him if he touches her. I don’t care if I spend a lifetime in jail for it. I’m going to smash his head to fucking pieces and feed him his fucking eyes.
“Open wide, my love.”
We all turn as the doors to the crypt swing open, a man in overalls stands in the doorframe. His accent’s strong. “Whit th’ heel is gonnae on ’ere, aye?”
Nigel pulls his pants back up. “And who might you be, sir?”
He holds up a set of keys. “Aam th' fookin’ groondskeeper. Who th’ fook are ye?”
“Nigel Aldrich Bradford, sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The man I assume is a groundskeeper doesn’t simmer down a single bit. “Ah dunt caur if yoo’re th’ Kin’ ay England. Git th’ fook aut of ’ere.” He reaches for his radio.
The arms around me relax, Grace let up from the floor. I seize on it, rushing over to her and pushing past the others for the stairs.
The groundskeeper yells something, but all I’m focused on is getting us out of here.
One of the Murphey brothers tries to block our way, but I’m not having it. I punch him hard in the face with a heavy right, feel his nose breaking under my hand. He goes down, wailing, as I pull Grace to the bottom of the stairs.
I try to grab the groundskeeper on the way out, but he shrugs me off, cursing.
I look at the others. They’re gathering in the middle of the crypt.
“You’ve got to get out of here,” I warn, but the stupid bastard’s not going anywhere.
“Fine,” I mutter, pulling Grace up th
e stairs as fast as possible, sprinting with her hard across the courtyard and to my bike. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even ask for a helmet. She swings herself beside me and says just one thing: “Go.”
CHAPTER NINE
GRACE
Spencer pulls into a rest stop off the motorway. I leap off the bike, pacing and shaking my head. I can’t calm down. My heart’s pounding so hard I’m quite certain it’s going to break ribs soon. “What the fuck was that, Spencer?”
He takes off his helmet, shakes his hair out, still seated. “That was the Chaos Club.”
A semi blasts past us. “That was a fucking asshole convention. You’re seriously proud to be a part of that?”
“I never said I was proud of it. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Then why come out here in the middle of the night, put up with that kind of bullshit?”
I’m angry, but I don’t know if it’s directed at Spencer or the others, whoever they are. The whole thing’s gotten out of hand. You should have stayed away.
Spencer runs his fingers through his hair. He looks exhausted, far from the twenty-four-seven playboy the world knows. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t fucking know any more. We all grew up together, went to the same schools, spent summers at each other’s estates. It’s complicated.”
“It seemed pretty simple. You know they were talking corruption in there, right? The Prime Minister?”
Spencer straightens, defensive. “Don’t tell me you were recording.”
I don’t reply.
He gets off the bike, head in his hands. “Fuck, Grace. I mean, what the fuck were you even doing out there?”
He’s scaring me.
“I came to the apartment, in London. I wanted to see you. When I got there you were already on your bike.”
“And you followed me all the way to fucking Cambridge?”
He’s upset, growing more and more agitated. I can hardly blame him. I put him, both of us, into a volatile situation. Still, I don’t deserve to be treated like this.
“What will they do?” I ask. “Will they come after us, me?”
He looks into the distance. “No.”
“Why?”
He turns, eyes azure even in the darkness. “Because we know too much about each other. I can fuck them over. They can fuck me over. It’s mutual destruction, the very glue that keeps the Club so secretive.”