Page 61 of Explosive Prejudice

Diesel

“Excuse me, may I please have a caviar croquette?”

Rolling my eyes and grinding my jaw, I gave Andrei a pissed look.

“I’m not sure what’s more disturbing. You knowing what the fuck a caviar croquette is, or you being an actual guest here.”

“It’s not like I want to be here,” Andrei scoffed while moving to stand beside me, so now we both faced the crowded space.

A few weeks ago, Jessie asked me to come and work with him and Levi in this waiting job his friend of a friend hooked him up with. Blinded by my good mood at the time, I didn’t ask any more questions before agreeing to the job. It turned out I should have asked a lot more questions because this wasn’t just some random A-list party but a benefit held by Christian W. Rogers, who just so happened to be the father of the guy I desperately didn’t want to see. So far, I hadn’t seen Shay-Lee, and hopefully, some miracle would occur and save me from the pleasure.

“Well, I get why I’m stuck here, but why are you? I mean, why the fuck would Miles come here?”

Andrei rolled his shoulders, taking one appetizer from the tray I was holding and popping it in his mouth. “He came with his parents. And from what I know, despite everything, Daniel still works with Christian, so he can’t not show up to this party, or it would cause a scene.”

I scowled. “A scene?”

Licking his fingers clean, he nodded. “Yeah, man, a scene. You can’t just ditch events like this,” he explained as if it was a fact known to all, even though it made zero sense.

“You sound just like them,” I snorted while Andrei’s frown deepened.

“Again with the them thing? I already told you to stop with that bullshit.”

He did say that. He also spat other crap about how everything in life was a matter of choice—such childish thinking. Tonight was a perfect metaphor for how oblivious Andrei had become. While Jessie, Levi, and I were here for work, he was here as a guest. The fact he wore a tux that probably cost more than he made in a year working at the beach club while I was serving him food wasn’t because of some great choice he made but because he was fucking Miles.

Andrei always believed that we were who we said we were, meaning that our starting point had nothing to do with where we’d end up. He was so sure that he could accomplish more in his life than those around him and often tried to make me believe it, too. But it was all bullshit. We would have been back in juvie after a month out if it hadn’t been for Chief and his money. Knowing that the only reason I got a chance was because some dude with a trust fund decided on it bothered me to the core. I wasn’t a charity case, and I refused to be one. I was also not delusional like Andrei, who actually thought our life situation had anything to do with us and not with the mere luck of being noticed. And if we were being honest, Andrei loved it. Tonight was just further proof of that. Andrei always wanted to be the one wearing the tux instead of the one serving the food. Until Miles came along, his hypocrisy was hardly noticeable. Now, it came in all the shades of his navy tux.

I was aware of the inferiority complex that life forced on me, but I was also aware of reality. People like me had no chance. If you tried to blend in where you didn’t belong, as my sister did, you ended up dead in a ditch. If you didn’t try, you either found yourself in prison like my brother did or with a bullet in your head like my mother did.

“Holy shit, guys, this place is packed with celebrities. Do you know who just spoke to me?” Jessie came to stand between Andrei and me, probably saving us from another argument. “Aloïs Dufort!” His smile grew as he said the famous actor’s name. “Well, technically, he didn’t actually speak to me, more like grunted because I stood in his way, but isn’t it freaking awesome?”

Just as Jessie finished talking, Levi joined us, looking like he was ready to die.

“I was not meant to interact with people.” Levi bit on the tip of his nail while shaking his head. “Why did I ever agree to this labored job?”

Jessie kissed Levi on the cheek. “’Cause you’re fucking awesome. Ha, now that I think about it, what a shame I didn’t have my phone with me. I would have asked Aloïs for a picture.”

All employees’ and guests’ phones were confiscated before entering the party. We even signed confidentiality agreements before getting the job. It was odd, so much so that even Jessie’s friend who got us this gig said it was the first time it had ever happened to him.

“Oh, there you are.” Miles’s annoying voice made me aware of him just in time to see him wrapping an arm around Andrei’s waist.

Mierda. Somehow, this felt less like a job and more like a forced hangout.

“Yo, Miles. I just spoke with your uncle. He’s so cute.”

Miles looked skeptical at Jessie’s announcement. “My uncle? Cute?” He snorted while exchanging odd looks with Andrei.

“Didn’t you say he grunted and then shoved you on his way to the open bar?” Levi narrowed his eyes at Jessie while Miles mumbled, “Sounds more like him,” under his breath.

Andrei had something to add when a gathering of people caught our attention and forced us to quiet down and check what was happening.

On the middle of the balcony, with the ocean spread behind him, stood the host of the event. With a black suit tailored to his imposing figure, blond hair slicked back, a deviant smile, and a pair of vicious cold eyes, Christian W. Rogers looked like scum.

Not just scum but the worst kind. The type of filth that pretended to be good for the sake of covering up the sewage and shit flowing through his veins. Despite wanting to look away and save me the anger of seeing his smug face, I couldn’t move my eyes from the stage, since he wasn’t the only one standing there. Beside him, nearly immersed in the background in a way that didn’t suit him, was Shay-Lee. Only that he didn’t look like himself. And by that, I meant that he didn’t look like Shay-Lee Rogers but like my Llorón. The broken expression he hid so well underneath his mask was on full display for me to see, and I realized that the reason I wanted to avoid him tonight wasn’t rage or hate but guilt—pure guilt for what I did to him the last time we met.

The smile on his face, which I knew was there to cover up wounds, didn’t reach his desperate eyes, yet no one but me seemed to notice or care. And when his father placed his hand on Shay-Lee’s shoulder and his body nearly broke down, nobody gave a shit, and instead, they all just continued to cheer them both for their warm hospitality.

Seeing Shay-Lee, a guy I’d practically hated from the second I met because of his entitlement and smugness, looking like a swan in a hunter’s crosshairs, stirred my insides with wrath. But it wasn’t just anger twisting my gut into a knot, but also the strong urge to protect him. To go over there and yank him as far away as possible from the monster. Why? I couldn’t answer that. Maybe it was because he reminded me of my sister, who I couldn’t save, or my mother, who didn’t want to be saved. But mostly, it was because he reminded me of myself.

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