Page 36 of Gilded Fake

The blade of Dixie’s sharp voice slices me from my slurry haze, and I look up to find her standing with feet planted, arms crossed, glaring death rays at us. The elite squad stands behind her like an army, one Walton twin on either side of her. I release Gloria’s soft body, my heart hammering as I stare at them, realizing what I did, the danger I put her in.

And suddenly, in a single, bright flash of understanding, I know why she did what she did, why she lied all that time. I know, and I forgive her, because the thought of them grabbing her and doing what they did to her in the basement that day as punishment for stepping out of line makes a murderous rage rise inside me like I’ve never felt before. I may be a lover, but fuck with the wrong girl, and I’ll fight to my last, dying breath.

“Are you really all over my man in the middle of prom?” Dixie asks. “Talk about trash.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about it,” Gloria says, tossing back her blonde hair that she wears loose now, tonight styled into soft waves instead of the usual straight curtain. She squares her shoulders and faces off against the entire group like she’s not one bit intimidated by the handful of huge athletes in tuxes and the hateful girls hovering around them like flies on shit.

“He’s my date,” Dixie points out. “I’m the queen, and he’s my king. You just can’t resist ruining my one night, can you?”

Gloria snorts. “One night? You’re always the queen. You always were. Even when I wore the crown, you were the one with the power, untouchable even to the Dolces. You should have been at their table all along, not me.”

“That’s true,” Dixie says. “You were always trash. So get your nasty ass away from my man. He belongs at my side.”

“Don’t you mean under your thumb?” Gloria asks. “That’s where you’ve kept him all this time. Maybe if he knew the truth about you, he’d finally escape.”

Dixie’s gaze flies to me for one split second, and I catch the alarm in it before she turns it back on Gloria, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Why are you still here? Isn’t the trash supposed to take itself out?”

“You might want to stop throwing that word around,” Harper says, stepping up beside Gloria. “Since I identify as trash, and I take offense to you using it as an insult.”

“Don’t,” Gloria hisses, but Harper ignores her and stands tall, which isn’t easy for a girl who barely clears five feet. Now Gloria’s not alone in the middle of the circle on the dancefloor where everyone has stepped back to watch, though.

Harper stares Dixie down with cool resentment, refusing to bow to the queen or buy into the status quo as usual. “Go on,” she says. “You’re the cleverest girl in school, aren’t you? So why don’t you use that big brain to think of something to call her that won’t get my back up too.”

“And mine,” I say, stepping up on Gloria’s other side.

There’s a murmur through the crowd, and more people push in, always eager to witness drama among the elite.

“You’re taking her side?” Dixie asks, her eyes wide, her lip trembling.

“I don’t need anyone on my side,” Gloria says, stepping forward so she’s alone again. “And I don’t need to fight for a man.”

“Clearly you do,” Dixie says. “Since you can’t get a man of your own.”

Gloria’s sisters and a few of their friends snicker, and Gloria falters.

Dixie’s eyes light with a predatory gleam as she senses victory. In that moment, I wonder how I ever wanted her, how I ever thought she was anything but a conniving, evil snake. She looks like a killer going in for the death blow—and getting off on it.

“That’s why you had to come after mine,” Dixie goes on. “You couldn’t even get that lowlife dirtbag from the tattoo place to stay interested. I heard he dumped you.”

“We weren’t dating,” Gloria grits out.

“Oh my god, so you were faking it for show?” Dixie asks through an incredulous giggle. “I’ve never heard something so pathetic in my life. Imagine thinking you could save face by flaunting Maverick.”

The Walton twins laugh scornfully at their sister, like they weren’t gagging over Maverick’s dick on New Years. But their interest in a rough gangster from the other side of the tracks is forgotten as they tighten ranks in solidarity with their new queen.

“I’m not flaunting anyone,” Gloria says. “That’s more your style. If I was going to be with a man, it would be one who wanted to flaunt me.”

“Then get off mine,” Dixie shouts, stamping her foot.

“Take him,” Gloria says with a shrug. “I don’t fight for men. If he wanted to, he would.”

“And he wants me,” Dixie says smugly, stepping forward and grabbing my arm. She drags me across the space to her, wrapping both arms around me and giving Gloria a gloating smile.

“Cool,” Gloria says. “Glad we established that. Colt’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions, and he chose you. You win. So get out of my face. I don’t have time for your petty bullshit.”

“Why?” Dixie asks. “You got somewhere to be? Is a John waiting upstairs in one of the rooms? How much do you make, anyway? I’m surprised anyone would pay for something so gross and used, but then, I guess guys with diseases must be desperate.”

“I’m sure you’d know,” Gloria says. “Seeing as how you’re the queen of desperate.”

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