Chapter 12
Dallas
I should probably jerk off.
I know where the Wolfe Room is, and I have a good idea of most of the members, but I don’t know exactly what to expect.
My sex life has been pretty creative, but what’s it like when you’re rich?
When you’re so bored, you have to dream up all sorts of kink to get you turned on?
I don’t want a hard-on like a teenage boy after two minutes in there.
There’s probably bondage. Most likely voyeurism. Definitely sharing.
Maybe I won’t be turned on at all. Is sex any good without the seduction?
I lean against the shower wall, the water spilling over my head and down my nose and mouth. The school’s locker room is empty, and I saw no point in going home and failing to relax. After getting some prep work done for Monday, I worked out in the weight room and decided to get cleaned up here.
Callum was wrong about Seneca. He didn’t sleep around. He believed sex was a need, but like food, one that should be managed in moderation.
Something ultimately experienced within the intimacy of marriage.
Our desires shouldn’t control us and all that…
While I never sought the discipline to live similarly, I get that there’s a point. I can’t help but remember what Callum said in my bedroom all those years ago. I feel like shit all the time.
Whether we like it or not, we thrive on boundaries and rules, and in places where there’s only excess, like the Wolfe Room, how can things mean anything? Are they doing it because they love it, or are they doing it because they can’t stop?
All I know is that I want to know what Callum knows. I’m starting to wonder if he’s really like Nero at all.
Snatching my towel off the hook, I turn off the water and swipe the towel across my body, wrapping it around my waist. I push the curtain aside and head back to the lockers, grabbing another towel off the rack and rubbing it over my head.
I didn’t want to wear a suit tonight, trying to act like I belong there when I know what I am to those people.
But then I thought they might not let me in if I’m not dressed right, so I had Aracely drop off my suit earlier.
Krisjen was at a meeting, Iron had disappeared, and what do we pay Aracely for anyway?
As I come up my row, though, I see long jean-clad legs standing at the end. I pull the towel off my head, staring at my brother.
Macon waits for me with his arms folded across his chest, and I glance left and right, not seeing anyone else.
I think he’s set foot in this school twice. Once to meet with a teacher to remind them that many priests are probably gay and that they can get off our gay sister’s back, and then…
And then he showed up for her graduation.
St. Carmen is like another planet to him.
Walking to the locker, I pull it open. “I was expecting Iron.”
He was supposed to give me the rundown on what to do and where to go if I’m on the run at midnight. Ideally, I just wanted a car parked at Fox Hill, but then they’d see him dropping it off.
I don’t think it’ll be a problem, though. I fully intend to make it so fun that Callum doesn’t want the night to end early.
Macon nods. “He’s around.”
“What does that mean?”
He’s around…
But my oldest brother just tips his chin at me, a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth. “Where’re your boots?”
I pull them out of the locker and hand them to him. He just takes one and turns, sitting on the bench with his back to me. I start to pull on my clothes, stealing glances over his shoulder.
Using a small finger knife, he shaves off one of my treads in order to fit a blade in the traction of my sole.
I pull on my black pants, and he turns around, handing me my shoe. “If they have any metal detectors, they’ll think it’s the steel toe.”
I’m not sure if he thinks I can’t handle it, but it’s nice to have him to myself and not yelling for a change.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him, more of an assurance.
I can handle Callum Ames.
Pulling on my shirt, I button it up.
“Oh, I have enough to worry about,” he says. “We’ll be having our own fun tonight.”
The Saints will be busy in the Wolfe Room, and I’ll make sure they stay that way while my family makes their move, getting the liquor into storage.
I drape my black tie with silver pinstripes around my collar, but Macon approaches, tying it for me.
I narrow my eyes. No one has ever tied my tie, although I’m sure Dad helped him with his when he was growing up.
“These people are bad.” He stares down at my collar. “I’d tell you not to do this, but you’ll for sure do it then.”
I can’t help but smile a little. We may have very little in common, but he knows me.
A lump moves down his throat, his eyes still not meeting mine.
“When you’re young,” he says, “you’re feeling everything magnified by a hundred.” He pauses, seeming out of breath. “Your head can feel like a prison. But it’s not.”
He tightens the tie and lifts his gaze to mine.
“Every problem can be solved,” he goes on. “Tomorrow is another day. And if it’s not one thing, it’s another.” His face softens. “You get through it. With family.”
I blink, unsure of how to respond.
He never talks to me like this. I don’t think he talks to anyone much, except Krisjen, but tonight it’s like advice and apology at the same time.
My anger is overwhelming, but so was his once upon a time.
And his despair.
As much as I dread facing him still or imagine that I’ll never measure up, he didn’t abandon us, did he?
He could have. Anyone would’ve understood. Five kids to support is an impossible task, but we made it through.
At least so far.
I tuck in my shirt and fasten my pants and belt.
“This will buy us time,” he states. “But we’ll need leverage eventually. Dirt.”
“I’m on it.” I take long breaths, admittedly scared to be in that room with no windows and no phone. But still, I warn him, “Be careful tonight.”
He snickers, backing away. “I was breaking curfew when you were in kindergarten,” he jokes. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You mean you were fun once?”
His eyes widen. “Fuck you.”
But he smiles, and I flash one back.
He leaves, and I finish up, slipping into my socks and shoes, brushing my teeth, and styling my hair before putting on my jacket.
By ten, I’m pulling my phone off the charger in my classroom, debating whether or not I should leave it. I won’t be able to take it in the Wolfe Room, and I may leave in too big a hurry to get it back.
Silencing it, I slip it into my breast pocket and secure my money clip in the other one.
When I walk outside, a black car sits in front of the school in the empty lot. Wind sweeps through the palm trees, perspiration cooling my pores.
Opening the door, I climb in, sitting opposite Callum. I try not to relax at the sight of the otherwise empty back seats. I thought for sure he’d bring his asshole friends to join in, taunting me.
He probably feels I’m owed a beatdown, in any case.
“I apologize—the driver didn’t see you coming,” Callum says.
No one was going to open my door anyway.
“I know what I am to you.” I sit, my legs taking up more room than his as I rest my arm on the door. “Best not to keep up pretenses, not tonight.”
This isn’t a date, and I’m not being hosted.
I’m his entertainment.
The driver pulls off and Callum grabs a handful of ice out of the tray next to his legs, a compartment coming out of the seat, and dumps the cubes in a glass. He pours Bluecoat.
I gaze out the window. “How does this place work?”
“You’ll see.”
I turn back to him, watching him sip his drink. He’s dressed similarly, in a black suit and black shirt, but he also wears a vest with his tie. His silver watch glints in the streetlights coming through the window, and I wouldn’t even bat an eyelash to learn it cost more than my annual salary.
“Can I leave when I want?” I press.
“Of course.” His tone is light and calm. “Whether you can get away is another question.”
My plan is to let him play with my head but show him that I know far more than he does. If he thinks I have tricks, he’ll want me there—maybe again on another night, too. I want as many opportunities as possible to get whatever is useful to Macon.
Callum undoubtedly has a plan of his own, though.
“Am I expected to participate?” I ask next.
His gaze falters, and he turns away, toward the window. “Not in the first room.”
“The first room?”
It’s called the Wolfe Room. I guess it should’ve occurred to me that it would be more sophisticated.
“When you get into the Den…” He furrows his brow a little. “It’s a little more aggressive.”
He avoids my eyes, looking like a memory is playing in his head.
I study him. “Did you ever not like it?”
He lifts the glass to his lips. “I’ve never been in the Den.”
Then how does he know?
I want to ask him other questions. I want to know how many times he’s been in the Wolfe Room and what he’s done, but then I remember I don’t give a shit.
He slips his glass into a cup holder and starts making another one.
As long as I can leave at will, and I can decide who I touch and when, it should be easy. I’m not getting my hopes up that these Saints can shock me, but I’d love to be surprised.
Remembering one more question, I turn back to him. “Are there safe words?”
He pours Belvedere in a rocks glass. “In the Wolfe Room, there’s no need for fantasizing about power dynamics, because you’re in one,” he explains. “No means no.”
But…
“But whether you can do anything about it,” I add, “if they don’t listen is another question, right?”
Callum doesn’t reply, but I see the flex in his jaw as he caps the liquor.
You can’t convince me that every person who ever walked into this place left feeling like they weren’t at least coerced in some way. There weren’t a few nights when things got out of hand? When someone did it anyway, knowing they were too powerful and rich to suffer any consequences?
Didn’t he take my sister into the anteroom of that fucking place once?
I’m a dick, and I’ll always be a dick, but I’m not cruel or a criminal. Nothing feels better than when they really want it.
He felt especially good, actually.