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I inhale before letting it out in a stream, blowing the smoke directly into his face. Instead of stepping back, he breathes it in, so close we’re practically shot gunning. The gold flecks in his green eyes gleam as he smirks at me, sucking the smoke through his nose, everything in his expression challenging,Did you really think I’d object to that?
We’re still staring each other down when I pass the joint to him. He takes it between his finger and thumb and slowly drags in a lungful of smoke without dropping my gaze, his full lips still quirked up at the corners.
“Either of you gay-ass bitches got some more of that?” Duke Dolce interrupts, shoving past the guys behind me to reach us.
I stiffen, but Maverick just grins his slow, guarded smile and lets white smoke creep out the corners of his mouth. “Jealous?”
Maverick knows who the Dolces are, of course. Everyone in Faulkner knows, and on top of that, he’s inked all the D-boys. But like most people on this side of town, he’s slower to bow to their highness.
Of course there’s a hierarchy here too, but it’s different. Everything is different here.
Duke doesn’t hold the power on the Skull & Crossbones turf, but he might not be smart enough to realize it.
Maverick is, though.
“Yeah, because I want your dick shoved up my ass,” Duke says sarcastically. “Seriously, man. Let me hit that.”
Mav tips his chin at Duke and lets his honeyed gaze drip down his body. “You gonna let me hit that?”
I groan inwardly. Duke has a short fuse and not enough sense not to try to kick a gang member’s ass on his own turf. I try to move away in the crowd, but they’re pressing forward as a pair of headlights appears on the home stretch.
“Fuck you,” Duke says.
“I’m trying,” Maverick says, passing the joint back to me.
I take a drag, hoping to calm my racing heart. I’ve never liked fighting, and I like it even less now that I know the severity of a Dolce beating. Not to mention that if a fight broke out right now, on Crosses territory, it would be a bloodbath.
“How much?” Duke asks, pulling out his wallet.
“Now you’re speaking my language,” Mav says, holding out a hand. Duke slaps a twenty into it, and Maverick pockets it.
I hold out the joint, but Maverick plucks it from my fingers and takes a slow drag, nursing it for a good ten seconds to make sure Duke knows he’s not the one calling the shots. Just when I think Duke’s about to pop off and knock out a few teeth, Maverick hands it over with a casual smirk. He blows a cloud of smoke my way and grins like I’m in on the joke. I’m not, but I appreciate not being the butt of the joke for once, so I smile back.
Surprisingly, Duke notices, but maybe he’s smarter than I thought because he only glowers and takes the joint, sucking on the end like an addict getting his fix while he watches our silent exchange.
“Better be careful,” I say. “You might get our gay-ass germs and turn into a raging homosexual.”
“Fuck you,” Duke growls.
“Maybe if you get down on both knees and beg like the bitch you are,” I say. “But even then, I don’t think you deserve what I could do for you.”
Normally it would be too dangerous to bite back, but we’re on even ground tonight. According to the Dolces themselves, nothing that happens tonight will carry over into school on Monday. That means I’m not their bitch this weekend. Duke’s still a loose cannon, but if there’s a fight, it will be a slaughter, and I’ll be on the winning side for once.
The Willow Heights kids will pay the price, but I have no loyalty to that place anymore. The Dolces bought off the school and everyone in it. So, I’d fight for the Crosses tonight, even though Maverick doesn’t deserve my loyalty either.
I learned the hard way not to give out loyalty to those who haven’t earned it. I’m loyal only to people who deserve it and return the favor—myself and my family.
Maverick is the same way. He looks out for himself and his fellow members of the Crossbones gang. If he was loyal to me, he wouldn’t tattoo these assholes, and I’d return the favor. Willow Heights doesn’t give a shit about me, so I don’t follow their unspoken rules about crossing the tracks and hanging out with gangsters, but I’m not a member.
So, I wouldn’t join the fight for Maverick, but because I’m so fucking tired of losing. It would be nice to win one more time, even though they’d probably retaliate by killing me, despite the rules of Bye Week.
In truth, Maverick is the best friend I’ve got, even if he won’t turn away Dolce business for me. He’s the best I can do, and just like with Dixie, I take what I can get. If that means my closest friend is a guy who will ink the men who took my memories and my middle finger and left me with a metal plate in my skull and scars from my fingertips almost to my elbow, I’ll take it. After all, I’m just another rich prick in his eyes. If I didn’t run the Slaughterpen and the races that put money in his pockets, he probably wouldn’t see me any differently from them.
The crowd surges forward, and the three of us are crushed together in a tight knot as Gloria Walton’s Mustang comes screaming over the finish line, into the lot. She does a few doughnuts, burning rubber and waving out the window, while the crowd cheers and throws Halloween candy like it’s a parade. Duke and Maverick are both jostled against me, their hard bodies crushing against mine. I glare at Duke as he slips the end of the joint back between my lips while my arms are trapped by his chest and Maverick’s elbow.
“Don’t forget your place,” he says into my ear. “The whole school knows you’re the little bitch who likes to serve the kings on his knees.”
“Maybe so,” I admit. “But you and I know otherwise, don’t we?”
