Gant
“Is that,” Alistair trails, but neither Hale nor I are quick enough to cut off Rie.
“It looks like coke, right? It almost fooled me too because I used to do tons of it, but I always preferred the other kind.”
“Crack?” Zedd asks with smug amusement, but Rie Rie shakes her head.
“No. Pep — ”
“Rie, why don’t you go grab a mop?” Hale asks gently, and she clomps away.
“It’s powdered sugar,” I say. “We had some doughnuts.”
Zed can hardly contain his grin.
Alistair raises an elegant, silver brow. “Doughnuts?”
“Want one?” Hale asks, and I can hear the panic in his voice, panic he never has with any authoritative figure aside from Alistair Beaumont, and it's all because of one little blonde.
“I ate the last one,” I say, guilty. “We were just goofing off. Getting a sugar high.”
Alistair looks from Hale to me again, his eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Hale shakes his head hastily. “No, sir. I — ” he looks to me for help.
I’ve seen Hale snort blow out of a stripper’s ass crack in front of his own mother before, yet all this hysteria because of the Beaumonts.
“It really was doughnuts.” I sniffle again, flickering my itchy nostril.
“Do you normally come to a strip club to eat doughnuts?” Zedd asks.
“If that’s a euphemism for pussy then some people may say it’s a normal Thursday night,” I say.
“It’s not a strip club,” Hale says.
“You could’ve fooled me. When I came to Stassi and Zedd’s birthday party, I assumed it was just another branch of Pierrot's,” Alistair says.
“You were here?” Hale asks, surprised.
“I wanted to see what was taking up all of Stassi’s time. She was home for the break, but I rarely saw her, and now I see why.”
“Well, it’s nothing like Pierrot's,” Hale says. “Libellule is a lounge. I chose the dragonfly theme because — ”
Alistair holds up a hand, his ring with the Beaumont crest glimmering. “Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn what you call it. I’m glad I came tonight, though. It just drives home how badly we needed to have this talk.”
Hale’s eyes flit from Zedd to Alistair’s in confusion.
“I know you need money for the roof,” Zedd says. “I asked my father for the money.”
Hale looks dumbfounded. “So, you want to become some sort of investor?” He looks between the men.
Alistair chuckles, that timeless old money laugh.
“No, it’s a gift, a thank you for hosting the birthday party. Stassi clearly loved it.”
“She did?” Hale asks a little too enthusiastically.
“She did. Too much . That’s why I’m here with the offer.”
Hale’s expression falters; Zedd, as always, is impassive.
“The thing is, it’s time for Stassi to focus. Graduation from Beaulieu is around the corner, and so is her retirement from ballroom.”
“She’s eighteen,” Hale says, brows wrinkled. “Why would she retire?”
“My wife and I met at Beaulieu. It’s fun. The competitions, the travel, but it’s not what pays. I’m what pays. My company is what pays, and I gave my princess her dream of dancing, but that’s all it is. A little dream she can continue as a hobby now that she’s about to settle down in the real world.”
Zedd’s eyes fall to the floor at that.
“Her debut is coming up, and it’s about time she starts networking before university.”
“Debut?” Hale asks.
“The ball,” Zedd says.
That seasonal bullshit ball, all the blue bloods made their daughters participate in until they aged out at twenty-seven. Hale, of course, wouldn’t know anything about it. I purposefully never brought it to his attention.
“He wouldn’t know about it, son. It’s above him,” Alistair says before turning to Hale. “It’s a charity ball.”
More like a spouse auction.
“How much are the contributions? If it’s for a good cause —”
“Look at this place. Save your money for a better cause like your sex club empire.”
Hale’s expression darkens. “We’re an entertainment house. That’s all.”
“Call it what you will. Just how you’re following in your mother’s… legacy, I expect Stassi to do the same in a manner that is becoming of a Beaumont.” He eyes the powder on the table again. “I don’t want her caught up in your world.”
“My world?” Hale mutters.
“The two don’t overlap.” Alistair stares. “They can’t. Not after school ends and everyone goes to their rightful places.”
Hale’s lip twitches. “Why are you here, then? In my world, offering me gifts?”
“Let me speak more plainly so you can understand it.”
Hale’s jaw ticks.
“Take my money as an early graduation gift. A graduation, a severance from Stassi. Fix your club, continue in your mother’s trajectory, but leave Stassi out of it.”
“You want to pay me to stay away from your daughter?”
“Stassi’s persistent. She’s going through a phase. You appeal to her. I saw it that night of the party. I want you to end it.”
“Nothing is going on, to begin with. I haven’t crossed the line with Stassi. I know what sort of girl she is, what sort of family she comes from. Zedd and I have been best friends since we were eleven. I know I’d need your approval if — ”
“And let me say here and now that you’re never going to get it, Pierrot.” He spits the surname. “You and Zedd never bothered me. Boys will be boys. We all have that fucktard friend in school who’s good for partying, but we outgrow him eventually. No harm done. But leave the girls out of it. Dick around with the fatherless whores you pay to run this place, not my daughter.”
I freeze because Alistair’s eyes landed on me on the second to last sentence. Elle. My eyes snap to Zedd, but his expression remains impassive.
“Take the money, Hale,” Zedd says. “You need it. It’s a win-win. Stassi isn’t your type. She’s a bored little rich girl that you’ll be bored with before university anyway. Take the money, set her loose.”
Hale straightens. “I don’t need a payout to know that I’m not good enough for Stassi —”
“I’m glad we agree,” Alistair says.
“ Not yet .”
“Hale,” Zedd interjects.
“You’re a little too late with the offer. The roof’s already fixed thanks to , and I’m not accepting any more donations.”
Alistair looks at me incredulously. “You invested in this place?”
“That’s what business partners do,” I say, swinging my arm around Hale’s shoulder.
“I thought Bart would’ve taught you better.”
“I guess every family’s values are different.”
“Clearly.”
“Including ours,” I say, spreading my arm around Rie Rie’s shoulders as she reemerges, mop in hand.
“Ours?” Hale whispers.
“I consider the horsemen and everyone that comes along with them my family.”
“Maybe you should reconsider,” Alistair says. “You’re an Auclair.”
“Maybe I should,” I say to Zedd. “Speaking of Bart, he misses you, Ally. Zedd and I have a cricket match this weekend, and Bart was wondering if you could tag along?”
“Bart’s in town?”
I nod.
“I’ll be there. I think he could use my advice, given what I’ve seen here tonight.” He turns to Hale. “Take the money or don’t. Either way, Stassi isn’t one of your options.”
It’s not until the door shuts behind the pair that Hale reacts, kicking the coffee table over.
“Can you fucking believe that?” he snaps.
Yes, I can. I owe Zedd a big one for his frying skills.
“You should come,” I say. “To the cricket match.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you want the chance to beat Zedd and Alistair's’ ass on the pitch. You’re the best cricket player at Beaulieu. Show Alistair who you really are.”
“Or who he thinks I am,” he says, taking the mop from Rie and mopping the sugary, alcoholic mess. “I should show him my whole fucking ass, since he thinks I am one. I should make him terrified of what I could do to his daughter if he keeps fucking with me.”
“You should. He wants to peg you as a Pierrot. Show him how dirty you play. Bring your mother along too.”
He shakes his head. “You know she’ll never go for it. She hates blue bloods.”
“What about you, Rie? Do you like cricket?”
“Too noisy. Grasshoppers are cuter.”
“We’ll be there,” Hale says.
“What’s all this stuff?” I nod to the boxes.
“The last of my shit Mum has purged from her house. No space for my baby photos in her nine-bedroom mansion.
I pick up an instant camera. The one Hale came to the academy with on the first day of Beaulieu.
“Shit, this still works?” I say in surprise as I take a candid photo of Hale and Rie.
Hale snatches the photo the second it shoots out. “Shit, I guess it does. I still can’t believe she even let me go to Beaulieu. If she had it her way, I would’ve fucked off at public school until sixteen, then worked at the club.”
“She’s hurt. All of our parents want us to follow in their footsteps, no matter how fucked they are.”
Hale snorts. “How’s Bart, by the way?”
“Barting. If she never comes around, know that you still have family.”
There are tons of photos in the box. I pick up the top one that’s tucked into a homemade picture frame with Romani designs. A photo of baby Hale, no older than a few weeks, tumbles out. He’s in his mother's arms in the water, and she looks fucking killer, especially for just giving birth.
“Wasn’t he cute?” Rie asks as Hale takes the photo and the now empty frame.
I stare at the scribbled words on the back as he examines the image.
“So cute,” I say. “Like an angel. What does the frame say?”
“Family, in Romani,” Hale says. “Rie, come here.”
He slides his arms around our shoulders, and then he’s blinding us with another instant picture. “Family.” he smiles, propping it on a nearby bottle.
“Two brothers,” I say.
“Who look nothing alike.”
An angel and a demon.
“Nevertheless.”
“Maybe it’s time for a new photo.” I take the instant camera and hand it to Rie before sitting behind Hale. I make a crown with my fingers and place it onto Hale’s head as he smiles into the camera a second before another white flash goes off.
The photo slips out, and Hale catches it before slipping it into the homemade picture frame. Then he takes his phone, snaps a picture of it and uploads it to his profile.
“What should we caption it?”
“You’re Beaulieu’s new king,” I say, taking the phone from him and typing the caption, All Hail King Hale.
Hale.
Hail.
Hale.
Hail King Hale…
Doesn’t that sound royal?