Cross
Jaw tight, I watch the new girl have a nice long chat with the cop.
I shake my head. “You’re in shock. I don’t see you inviting the local law enforcement for a spot of tea.”
I’m objective enough to realize Barbie doesn’t look too comfortable, but she’s babbling away.
Besides, it’s her third strike tonight, within less than an hour.
First, she films me having some fun with my favorite toy, then she threatens me, and now she’s sharing her life story with the police.
The simple truth is, she doesn’t belong on this side of the Rothford campus.
Little Goody Two-shoes like her ought to remain with their peers.
“She helped the girl. She knew CPR,” Lily says. “There would have been a dead body in your pool without her. Please don’t turn your side of town against her.”
I can’t give her that assurance, so I just stride forward, approaching Barbie as the police man asks, “And what’s your name?”
He’s writing on a notepad, trying his best to stop himself from smirking.
The truth is, the majority of the local police fucking hate most of the Heritage members, because they can tell there’s something up with us, but they never manage to get a thing to nail us with.
A brand-new girl like her, without any loyalty to anyone?
They’ll want to sink their claws into her and milk her for all she’s worth in order to pin something on us.
Never mind the entire Shark House was at the wyverns’ for their first party of the year.
Sad as it is, the fact that Arthur’s unstable pet decided to kill herself in our pool has nothing to do with any of us—not even Arthur.
Last I saw him, he was fucking Jessica in the billiard room.
But if the witness says what they want her to say, they can still make our lives hell for a while.
Long enough for us to get frustrated and pay them off to stop.
“Is there a problem, Officer?” I demand.
The balding puffy man’s smugness morphs into clear frustration as he glances at me, before returning to Claire. “I’m going to need you to come down to the station tomorrow, ma’am. Record your statement.” He dips his head. “Until then.”
Shoulders back, he makes his way to his car without looking at me.
I narrow my eyes at the blonde. “You okay?”
“I think…that guy was trying to make me tell him bad things about the party.” So she’s not that dumb, huh? Good. Quickly, Barbie adds, “I didn’t, though.”
“Didn’t you?” I say softly. If that were the entire truth, Officer Dipshit wouldn’t have looked like the cat who got the cream. “Because the only thing one should say to a dick like that cop is ‘no comment.’ You seemed to be having a nice chat.”
“I told him about finding the girl, that’s all,” she insists, shaking her head. “When he pushed about the party, I said I only drank what I took. No one served me anything. He was trying to push. I didn’t let him.”
Ah, that makes sense. Pushing that kid to admit that she’d been served alcohol would get someone in trouble. She’s new in town, underage—maybe eighteen.
What Dipshit and Barbie don’t get is that if someone’s head rolls, it’ll be Luke, the wyvern bartender for the night—firstly because he’s the one who actually served her the drinks, but also because Luke’s bankrolling his Rothford education with a mixture of loans and odd jobs. He’s not one of us—just someone useful.
Although he’s the only one likely to see any legal consequences, our parents would still step in, show their displeasure. We’re not supposed to attract the attention of law enforcement. Bringing a chick who’d betray us into our den shows a lack of judgement that we’d all pay for.
My own parents would likely just stick to the we’re disappointed speech, especially since the incident doesn’t directly implicate me, but others will get slaps on the wrists. Confiscated cars, cancelled vacations, that sort of thing.
And if everyone hears that they’re in trouble because of Barbie? Not even Keller’s protection will spare her that backlash. Fuck, Markus might intervene. He’s the current vesper president.
Markus might be Keller’s cousin, but if he hears Barbie’s snitching, she’s done for.
“I heard what you did for Charlotte. The CPR,” I specify. “That’s the only reason why I’m telling you this now, Keller’s pet. Don’t go down to the station tomorrow.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, frowning. “I can’t just ignore the police.”
I knew she was a snitch at heart. “You’re not under arrest. They have nothing on you. You’re nothing but a weapon for those wanting to harm us.”
“Maybe that’s how it works in your world, with the lawyers you can afford and all that, but in mine, I do what the police tell me to do,” she argues.
I sigh, tired of the whole ordeal. “Have it your way.”
She’s made her mind up, and I have to handle the fallout. After all, I’m the shark president this year. I can’t believe classes haven’t even started, and I already have a mess to clean up.
I mentally make a list. Call someone to drain and clean the pool, figure out what’s going on with the Charlotte chick from Arthur, and ask Keller to deal with his girl, unless he wants to have to dig a shallow grave should his cousin get wind of this first.
Two hours later, I’ve drilled Arthur and made a pronouncement. He’s done. If I could, I’d say he’s completely done with the sharks, but I’d rather keep him under my thumb to check what he’s up to. That said, he’s absolutely done with that chick.
“Come on, man.” Fuller rolls his eyes. “It’s good fun.”
I shake my head. There’s a line and he crossed it.
“She tried to kill herself because you blackmailed her into being your sex slave,” I summarize plainly. “Not a light coercion, not a deal. An actual fucking slave who is not into you. You’re not going anywhere near her after this. She so much as sees you and I go to the board. Understood?”
Fuller’s always been, well, rather full of himself—the name certainly fits. I don’t think he’s ever heard no in his life. “What the fuck? You’re a bloody Cross. I say the word and your entire family gets kicked out, you know.”
As I said: arrogant bastard. He doesn’t have the power to get anyone thrown out of the Heritage—not without a good reason—especially when he’s in the wrong.
“That’s my judgement as the head of this house, after an internal incident,” I retort calmly.
As the words come to me, I realize that this is why my predecessor named me president.
The Shark House is far too full of testosterone and it takes someone with a cool head to handle it.
If I were anyone else, I’d already be on my feet, beating my chest and demanding a fight to settle my differences.
“If you want to make the issue bigger than it already is, I can bring it to the attention of the entire student council—in which case they can decide.”
Fuller twitches. The student council means the head of every single one of our private houses. That would bring his actions to light, and more than that, the Goltzes would hear.
We all know what Markus Goltz thinks of those who abuse women. Fuller’s not enough of an idiot to push after that.
“Whatever.”
I watch him walk out, eyes narrowed. I’m going to have to keep an eye on that dick.
Or tell Markus about him, one of the two.
I finally stand, stretching, ready to head into bed when the study opens in front of someone who doesn’t bother to knock.
Keller’s hair’s up in a messy bun, which is as disheveled as the handsome bastard ever gets.
Without a preamble, he says, “The girl, she’s one of yours, right?”
“I wouldn’t say mine,” I make a face. “But yeah, she swims with the sharks, so to speak. She has a deal with Arthur Fuller. A little fucker, but he's legacy. I'll be asking what his girl was doing at the bottom of our pool for sure.”
I already know, but if I tell him, it’ll be a Sunday dinner discussion at the Goltz house.
Darius Keller’s father is the Goltz matriarch’s brother and the two families are tight. Keller is considerably less psychotic than his cousins, but confiding in one means sharing the knowledge with the entire clan.
“She’ll be okay?” Keller checks.
“Yes.” I’ll make sure of it. “I’ll send someone to ensure things run smoothly after she wakes up. But that's not our only problem."
I don’t need to spell out what the actual issue is: his Barbie. I’ve sorted out everything else. She’s still a loose end, especially if she goes to the cops for a statement about what she drank, with whom, and all that.
"I'll leave her in your hands," I tell him, because I’m not enough of an idiot to make him an enemy. But he’d better fucking deal with it. "I'd expect the same courtesy from you, if the situation were reversed. Not that it would be.” Amused, I can’t help adding, “Lily knows better.”
“Lily’s been in this town for a year, not a week,” Keller argues. “Claire’s sweet. Ignorant. Take your pick. But she’s my problem. I’ll handle her.”
“See that you do—soon,” I advise him. “If the board hears of it from anyone else, they might take the matters in their own hands. You know what they’re like.”
No one in this town likes a snitch.
Keller offers me his hand, and I shake it.
Finally free to head to bed, I wonder if it’s even worth it, because the sun’s already shining over the pool.
I opt to go for a quick shower and decide whether I’ll roll into bed or get dressed depending on how I feel afterwards, but my plan’s derailed the moment I open the master bedroom door.
I blink, half wondering if I’m just imagining things. I must be more tired than I thought, right? Because there’s no way Lily Trueman’s lying down on my bed, still in the same clothes she wore at the Wyvern Den, the denim a little damp after her dip in the pool.
She sits up as I walk in.
“One of the sharks showed me to your room,” she says, as if that’s the most natural thing in the world. “We need to talk.”
I say nothing, shutting the door behind me.
“Claire’s super nice. Sweet. Look, I—” She bites her lower lip. “Someone was sweet to me last year when I was down. She told me women should stand up for each other. I agree.”
“Isn’t that nice?” I tell her, amused.
“I don’t want you to make her life hell. Tell me what it’ll cost.”
I remove my jacket, then my watch, wishing I weren’t this tired.
“Cross?”
“Claire’s not mine to punish,” I tell her finally.
I half expect her to leave. Say, so long, then, I’ll go hunt down the guy in charge and sit on his bed, offering myself up on a platter for my roommate’s sake for him instead of you.
But she doesn’t move.
“Because Keller likes her?”
I nod, shedding my shirt, then my shoes, and jeans.
Lily doesn’t move.
“It’s not looking good for her, is it?” she whispers.
I shrug. “She’s objectively not cut out for our side of town.” I recall Keller’s qualifiers. “Sweet, naive, ignorant. Unlike you.”
She holds my gaze. “Can you promise me you’ll do what you can to help her?”
I snort. “So, what, you’ll offer yourself up on a platter for Barbie’s sake? Sweetheart, I had your lips around my cock. You’re not worth the bother.”
She blushes, narrowing her eyes. “I wasn’t trying. And I’m much better.”
“Practiced, have you? Good girl. But you already owe me two blowjobs. I could have you sucking me right now without having to coddle your Barbie,” I remind her.
“Sure,” Lily says mildly. “But I don’t owe you anything else, now, do I?”
I watch as she brings her hand to her collarbone, tracing it, slowly lowering her sleeve to her shoulder, green eyes fixed on me.
My Adam’s apple bobs. She got me, and she knows it.
“I’m listening.”