22. Mack
Mack
“The fuck is he doing?” I ask, desperately wanting another drink. Just one. Is that too hard to ask for? Like ugh. If I have to be here, miserable with all these strangers wanting to suck our dicks for power, I should be able to drink. Lots and lots of glasses full of delicious champagne.
But noooooo. I have to do this stupid song and dance and be a good little Macklyn.
I hate being a good little Macklyn. I was that boy for years. Asking how high to jump when Franco said so. Asking permission for this and that. I’m tired of it and the consequences of straying too far from our mighty leader.
“Leave him be,” JJ says, shaking his head. He doesn’t take his eyes off Huxley either. Even when he disappears behind the mysterious door leading to the basement.
“He’s about to escape,” I gripe, swiping another drink from a passing tray. Damn, these fancy-ass parties sure know how to pick a solid champagne.
“Don’t you have practice in the morning?” JJ chides, attempting to steal my prize. Again.
“Are you my mother now? Do you need to whip out your teat and feed me directly?” I make a face at him as I take a big gulp of my alcohol before he swipes it from me like an alcohol thief.
Alcohol. Oh, alcohol, numb the bullshit inside me. Please take me away from this room and lock me away. Maybe I need to visit Livy after this and talk over my woes. Yes. She’s always the cure and the answer to the wrongs in the world.
“No,” JJ grunts, wrinkling his nose. “If I were your mom, you’d be locked in the attic. Forever. I’d throw away the key, too”
“Don’t tempt me with a good ass time,” I quip, finishing off my glass and wishing for a small vacation away from all this bullshit. “Now, why don’t they make these glasses bigger?” I hold the glass in front of my face, eyeing it with disdain.
“To torture you,” JJ says, eyeing Hux as he hurriedly makes his way through the crowd, aiming for us with a look I can’t place. Constipation? Anger? I don’t know. Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll hear all about it.
“And the prodigal son returns!” I say, holding up my empty glass.
“You let him drink more?” Hux accuses, swiping my glass from me and setting it on a tray of empties, weaving through the crowd.
Fucker. “Seriously, we’ll be in the car by 8:00 a.m., running to fucking Vegas if you fuck this up.
” He scowls, a hint of something fucking suspicious hanging over his head.
“It’s okay, Dad. Mom already threatened to lock me in the attic. You’re both ashamed of me.” I fake a hiccup and a cry, wiping my eyes.
“Who was that?” JJ asks, shaking his head at my antics.
Hux darts his eyes in the direction he came from. “One of our new recruits’ parents. They waved me over. They wanted to know what the hell their precious baby was about to get into,” he scoffs, dropping his gaze to the ground as his eyes droop.
Sniff. Sniff. I smell some bullshit. Rank, too. But whatever. If he wants to keep more secrets, more power to him. I’ll fish them out eventually. Right now? I’m too pissed off and uncomfortable to care or ask questions.
I grin, covering my suspicions. “Who was it? We should give them an extra special welcome.” I rub my hands together, forming so many amazing plans to show our newest recruits how wonderful we are.
If Hux won’t tell me what’s on his mind, I’ll take it out on the little ants who think they want in our ranks.
“Don’t remember their name. It’s not important…” He trails off, jerking his gaze toward the stage.
Liar. Liar. Pants on fucking fire. I narrow my eyes, but a wispy voice catches my attention and makes me want to cover my ears.
“Welcome! Welcome!” A feminine voice rings out through the microphone, capturing the attention of the rambunctious crowd.
“Fucking Dean Bitchmore,” Hux grumbles, folding his arms together and eyeing her suspiciously.
I mean, I get it. She’s been dipping her pen in Franco’s ink.
Or is it the opposite? He’s dipping his…
You know what? I don’t want to know the specifics.
They’ve been fucking. A lot. And that’s not something I want to imagine.
She’s gross. He’s gross. All totally fucking gross.
I shiver. By the lusty look in her eyes, she wants some more tonight, especially when they lock on Franco, waiting at the side of the stage, waiting for his introduction.
Gag me, please.
“Ten bucks says she’s in his bed tonight,” I nearly puke up the drinks I’ve been slamming as the words leave my mouth.
“At least he’ll be occupied instead of thinking of bullshit for us to do.” JJ locks his eyes on her, staring out at the crowd in front of the microphone on stage.
“My name is Amber Whittmore, and I am the dean of Greenwood University!” She waits as the crowd gives her awkward applause.
Like whoopty doo. Good for you, Amber. You’ve made it!
“Thank you! Thank you! Of course, we’re not here for me,” she giggles.
“We’re here for the man who threw this amazing party!
It’s absolutely gorgeous, right?” Several people in the crowd scream their approval and hold up their drinks.
“Please give a warm welcome to Nathaniel Franco, the man of the hour, as he inducts his newest frat members into Syndicate Row!” She gently claps with the microphone in her hand and then hands it to Franco when he finishes strutting on stage.
Amber whispers something in his ear as they embrace, and she kisses his cheeks. Seriously. Can I bleach my mind yet? Go back in time until I forget they’re bumping uglies and showing the world?
“God, stab me in the eyes with forks,” I groan, covering my eyes and peeking through my fingers.
Hux actually snorts at me. Proof that I’m the life of the party and fucking fun.
“Gladly,” he murmurs. “Then it’s my turn.” His head slightly turns from the gross display of affection on stage.
“Oh, fun! A stabbing circle jerk. I’ll add it to my calendar,” I joke, wiggling my brows.
“Gross,” JJ snorts with amusement, a smile pulling at the edge of his lips.
See? I’m fucking fun. They should let me drink more so I can show them how truly amazing I am.
“Thank you for that warm welcome, Amber!” Franco’s fake enthusiasm leaks through the speakers. He’s so obvious, I’m surprised the entire room doesn’t see it. But nah. All they see is the person who runs this town and can get them rich.
All I see is my prison warden with a fake smile and endearment.
“As you can see, we at Greenwood are the best of the best. Academic excellence at work! Of course, you knew that when your children accepted their enrollment and came to our fine establishment.” Chuckles reverberate through the amused crowd.
“Now, onto why we’re here. These men have worked hard side by side with my sons to take their place in our home.
” He gestures to his left as six of our recruits walk onto the stage in suits and confident smiles on their faces.
Sorry fuckers. We’ve put them through the wringer, being our little initiates.
That was nothing. Now, they’ll face the real world of the Syndicate. Guns. Death. Blood. Casino games. Enemies. It’s all there. They were too stupid to see it, though. They all are. Blinded by the mansions, cars, and expensive lifestyle.
They’ll learn. They always do. But then it’s too late to run away.
They’re in this for good. Now, they’ll get a real taste of what they’re up against after tonight, when this pony show of initiation is over.
And if they want to leave? Well, too damn bad.
They had their choice at the beginning of initiations and didn’t take it.
They’re signing their souls away to the devil tonight, and the only way they’ll see freedom is if they take their last breath and get buried in the graveyard.
“These men have faced the fire of initiation and made it through to the other side. I’m pleased to name them as the newest members of the Franco Syndicate. Welcome to the clubhouse, boys.” Franco claps his hands, encouraging the crowd to cheer for them as well.
They whoop and holler, cheering the boys on as they shake Franco’s hand one by one, with proud grins adorning their faces.
Whoopty fucking doo.
They’ve made it now. Been through hell and came out on the winning side.
I’m not bitter. Not at all.
That’s a lie.
“Oh, yay. More people to help make runs,” I grumble. “You think Franco will start handing out jobs to them soon?”
“No,” Huxley grumbles. “He’ll make us train them more now. You know how this goes. They’re basically our trainees living in our damn frat house.” He shakes his head. “I fucking hate this part.”
Facts. It’s the worst part of all this. We’re in charge of our little minions, making sure they don’t stray from the pack and betray us to the Shades or the many other Mafia families on campus.
Add this to the list of endless shit I have to do on campus.
Between classes and water polo, I’m a fucking zombie by the time it comes to training these assholes.
“Let the fun games begin.” Not.
My eyes roll toward the ceiling as Franco drones on, introducing the little mice to the crowd we invited into our trap.
Now, they’re stuck forever. Like us.
This is the worst part. We were meant to leave this shit hole and Franco behind. Change our names. New location. Far away from this nightmare, with our girl under our arm and smiles on our faces.
Ahhh, that was the fucking dream.
Too bad that dream died in a fiery night of bullshit, taking her and our plans away. Up in smoke. Down in ashes.
Fuck, I really need another drink.
We’re stuck like glue, and now, we have these little ducklings to follow us around and report back to Franco if we do something naughty.
Can’t a guy catch a break?
“What?” Huxley hisses, jaw tight and muscles tensing relentlessly.
“Huh?” I ask, looking at my brothers, then at Franco, standing tall on stage at the microphone. The crowd goes wild, chanting his name and cheering him on. The new initiates now stand off to the side of the stage, staring at Franco as two other people stand beside him.
Amanda’s father, Preston Devalle, and another man who looks familiar. I narrow my eyes, trying to remember where I’ve seen him before. And then, it hits me.
“Holy shit! Is that the president of the damn country?” My jaw falls open.
“The Secret Service makes sense now,” JJ mutters, casting his gaze toward the men in suits, finally slinking from the shadows with grim expressions.
“I mean, they were always around Maxwell, protecting him.” He’s right.
They were always around, chaperoning him to class and the frat house.
Hell, they even discreetly fit in at our parties.
It was laughable. But tonight, there were like a bazillion of them looming in the shadows.
“This is not fucking good…” Hux mumbles, trailing off when the damn president steps up to the mic with a huge smile splitting his face.
“I am pleased to have my son enrolled in such a worthy cause. Thank you, Nathaniel, for inviting me to witness this.” They shake hands with grins, then the president turns to embrace his son and then turns to the mic again. “And thank you for inviting me to speak in your beautiful venue.”
Kiss ass.
“He better be glad phones are prohibited here,” I say, staring out at the enamored crowd, unable to take their eyes off the man at the microphone. Although this place does have the best security systems in place. It would be a damn shame if this video got leaked to the public.
“Or he’d be all over the damn media, endorsing a fucking gang leader.” Huxley keeps his voice low as the president continues. “How the hell is this going to play out? This can’t stay under wraps. Everyone knows who the fuck Franco is around here.”
Good fucking question. If he has the president in his back pocket, what will he achieve? He’s had the cops in his corner since before I was born. Fuck.
“Yeah. Imagine that. President Cole on GNN having to explain why his son is in the Franco Syndicate.” Maybe I should leak the information and end this once and for all.
Hmm. I rub my chin. Truly contemplating the chaos I could unleash by simply whispering words to the right ear.
“You can’t leak it to the press,” JJ whispers frantically.
“Get out of my head, asshole.” I frown, stepping away from him. Is he psychic now? “Besides. That’s not what I was thinking.” Total lie, and JJ knows it by the eye roll he gives me.
“Right,” he scoffs. “But you can’t say anything. We’re already scrutinized about everything we do.” He sends me a look. You know, that look, showcasing all the disapproval he can muster. Just like a mother.
I huff at him, sulking in defeat. “Yeah, yeah, Mom. I got it. My lips are sealed.” I drag my fingers across my lips in a zipping motion, slightly twisting and then throwing away the imaginary key.
My lips are sealed. For now, at least. One day, I’ll spill his secret and put the spotlight on Franco. Maybe then we can sneak away.
“And I’d like to be the first person to lend my public endorsement of Nathaniel Franco for mayor of Greenwood, California!” He claps, stepping back from the mic.
My ears ring as his words bounce around in my skull. “Did… Did he say mayor? Of Greenwood? Mayor? Like in charge of this fucking town?” I stammer, cleaning out my ears with my fingers. “Seriously…”
Mayor of Greenwood?
This isn’t good at all.