Page 79 of The Unravelings

22

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?