Page 26 of Brutal Prince

That boyish smile that once drove many a drunken chick insane wormed across his face. “I’d say yes.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked baffled.

“Let’s just say she owes him one. And I’m not talking about candy favors.”

“Right. So we need to know when the next orgy is,” Cody explained. “Once we know, Rhys can persuade Fisher and the math geek to break into the chamber to plant cameras or phones.”

“You got it all planned out, eh?” Jace laughed, wiping a dribble of sweat from his forehead.

“Yep.” He laughed evilly. “As soon as I get my hands on the fucking fuckfest footage, that baby will go fucking viral. I will take great pleasure in watching this whole establishment and their spineless lackies squirm.”

THIRTEEN

Ollie

The usual procedure is to stroll up to the doors of the Athenaeum before 7.15pm. The meeting starts at 7.30pm, but the doors closed and are locked by 7.20pm. We show the gatekeeper our rings and the text message all members received when they’re informed of a meeting. This is supposed to be evidence that we’re genuine members. The system is completely flawed, but no one had bothered to test it, mostly because members would instantly ID someone who’s not supposed to be there.

We’re forbidden to enter the chamber with weapons and/or and a cell phones. Previously, we were searched, but that took up too much time. So now we are made to walk through a metal detector.

To my surprise, Cody was sitting in the back corner of the chamber next to Ridge. Josh who’d seen the brunt of Cody’s rage sat two rows in front alone.

At the beginning of the school year, the Bloodz from the Vault sat at the back, mocking the shit out of the pretentious members under our breaths. Jocks were only there because our parents were rich and/or influential. And being lifetime member had huge benefits such as rare opportunities, you’d never be offered on the outside.

Everything had changed. Yet nothing had changed.

I flicked an eyebrow greeting to Ridge and Harrington, and took a seat next to Darryn. When I heard Harrington clear his throat deliberately loudly I swung back to glance at him. His eyes were fixed on Vanderbilt who was bustling about the place organizing the stage for Buchanan.

I knew for a fact that Vanderbilt wanted the job of president of the S and C society, but Buchanan was voted ahead of him by senior and Platinum members. You’d think that’ll leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Yet he seemed happy being the fixer of filth. Personality wise, he was better suited as a bitch boy than a leader.

As Buchanan came onto the stage in the traditional society garb, I gazed about the chamber searching for places for cameras. I wondered where Fisher erected them last time, because there wasn’t may places without the camera seeming obvious. There was a couple of thick structural beams high above our heads that might work.

The walls were draped in large tapestries to represent the days of old and the Snake and Chalice symbol was etched into the wall behind the stage. The majority of the chamber was built underground, so the only windows were long slits near the ceiling that made little impact to the lighting.

The chamber was always shady, even with the lights on. No amount of illumination could take the darkness away.

We began the evening off by the usual chanting of the oath, then Buchanan opens a book of limericks and starts a series of humorous rhetoric. None of us in the back thought any of it was funny.

Next Buchanan updates us with what some of the recently graduated members are doing including the ex-society president Jonathon Wheeler, the son of Michael Wheeler. As you can imagine Wheeler landed seamlessly on his feet outside of school as he did inside. Wheeler was just another Buchanan. Same people, different bloodline. They even had that same fucking sweptback hairdo with faces as animated as a Ken doll.

Feeling the weight of fatigue from a lack of sleep, I closed my eyes at the sound of Buchanan’s voice.

My eyes snapped open shortly after when I felt the floor shaking, only to find Darryn’s knee bouncing up and down madly next to me. He was chewing his fingernails and seemed on edge. I could hardly blame him.

“I’ve been given a job,” he hissed.

“Lucky you. Is it similar to the job I had?”

“No. I’m undecided if I’m going to take it.”

“What’s on offer?” There was no point asking him specifics about the job because he would’ve signed a gag contract.

He shook his auburn head and I didn’t push it. Whatever it was unsettled him. It was either a damn good offer or pure blackmail. Either one Vanderbilt is capable of dealing out.

I closed my eyes again and didn’t open them until the meeting was over and the room was open for discussion. Almost every topic was up for debate, since the S and C society had control over just about everything this university.

Members even chose what play is going to be performed by the art and theater group, much to the dismay of the Art and Theater group. They had a say in what food was going to be served to freshmen in Kilbernie Hall, including the Christmas day meal. Which tutors and lecturers should be hired for job vacancies. They even had a say in what the scent of soap should be in the bathrooms. Due to the reliance on funding from outside sources, which mostly came from wealthy ex-students who grew up to be mega wealthy adults, they liked to have a say in how their money is spent.

This was the problem and it often raised a colorful debate on the floor of the S and C chamber.

---