Page 86 of Foolish Games

“It’s still a double standard,” Lexi grumbles.

“How do you deal with that shit, anyway?” I ask as we drive deeper into the gritty part of town.

“What shit?”

“Being used by women who treat you like dogshit in public.”

“Aww, did Vivienne not introduce you to the mayor at the latest gala?” Lexi teases.

“You don’t even know what a gala is.”

“Neither do you,” she points out.

Billy grins and turns onto Mill Street. “I know the kinky secrets of all Faulkner’s elite,” he says. “What do I care if they don’t say hi to me in Walmart?”

“Like they do their own shopping anyway,” Lexi says.

“Exactly,” Billy says. “Besides, I got ways of getting back at them if they turn into bitches.”

“You blackmail them?” I ask.

“He gets me nice things,” Lexi says, holding up her arm so her sleeve slides down, revealing a silver watch.

“You were supposed to pawn that,” Billy protests.

“I will,” she says. “But I thought I’d show it off a little first. Not every day you get to roll up at school in a Rolex.”

“Maybe you should roll up to ‘Jake’s’ party in that,” I say. “I bet that’d count as an invite.”

“Ugh, not Tony,” Lexi groans as we pull up in front of the North brother’s house and see a group of guys standing around smoking.

The Dolce brothers stand talking to three guys sitting in the bed of the El Camino—Maddox, his twin Lennox, and a gangster named Reggie. Like Billy, Mad hangs out with the jocks at school, so I know them through that. They’re football buddies to me, not gang members. But I’m not stupid. I’ve seen them strutting around the locker room enough to know they have gang tats.

“I got you,” Billy assures Lexi, opening the door and hopping out of the truck.

Lexi sighs and scoots across the seat to climb down. I reluctantly swing open my door, though some of these guys are notoriously violent. But I don’t have anything they want, and I’m not planning to offend anyone, so I climb down and join the group.

I watch Billy pull in Maddox, Lennox, and Reggie in turn, doing a gang handshake thing and slapping their backs. The Dolces nod to me, and I nod back, since none of us are affiliated with the Skull and Crossbones. Across the bald lawn, a pretty girl with dark hair pulled up in a scrunchie drags the trash can to the curb, studiously ignoring the group of gangsters next door.

“Quíubo?” Lennox asks Billy, his gaze following the brunette as she hurries back inside. Maddox drags on a cigarette and watches her with hooded eyes, not speaking.

Though he gave us a ride last month, I’ve barely ever talked to Mad’s brother Lennox, a straight-up gangster who got a reputation after a rumor went around that he was stabbed in a gang fight, pulled out the knife, and put it through the other guy’s eye. At least that’s the speculation behind the gnarly scar on his side, and since the other guy is most likely buried in a shallow grave somewhere, there’s no one to contradict the story.

“Just ridin’, looking for some shit to get into,” Billy says. “Teaching this asshole how to keep the bitches in line.”

“Like you ever kept a bitch in line,” Reggie says, dragging on his cigarette.

“It’s simple,” Billy says. “If they treat you like shit in public, you treat them like shit in private. If they like that and still act like bitches, you take away the D. They can’t live without for long.”

Maddox scoffs quietly, still staring at the house next door, even though the girl is gone. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was sweet on her. But sweet is not a word that could ever describe Maddox North, and if he ever crushed on a girl, he’d most likely crush her to death. I feel sorry for the girl that catches his interest for more than a quick fuck. He may be my boy on the field, but the dude looks like a murder waiting to happen.

“What kind of shit you thinkin’?” Tony asks Billy. “We’re down.”

“We were just admiring my watch,” Lexi says, flashing her watch. “Know anywhere you could get a couple more to match?”

“Let me see that,” Lennox says, stepping over and turning her wrist to examine it.

“That’s fake,” Tony says, peering over his shoulder.

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