Page 173 of Filthy Elites

It’s not the mocking way he says it, it’s the way he knows the lines by heart. He’d said all of that to me. Word for word.

Bile rises in the back of my throat and I’m one second from bolting when Miller catches my eye. He shakes his head slightly—in warning.

“I know we’re pretending to be barbers, but let’s not actually gossip like them.” He flips on the clippers and a loud, vibrating buzz fills the room. The kid in the chair eyes them warily.

“Say goodbye to that bush on the front of your head, forty-seven.” Royer says. I hear the snap, then vibrating buzz of the clippers in my ear. My hands grip the arms of the chair as the first swipe runs over the back of my head. It was short back there already, but not that short. Every pass of the clippers feels like another violation. Royer moves to the front of the chair, and I close my eyes. He grabs the longer hair and collects it together before sheering it off. Hair sprinkles across the bridge of my nose and long after vibrating stops, I still haven’t opened my eyes.

I can’t look.

The smock is ripped away and Royer barks, “Forty-seven! You’re done and you look fucking magnificent.” I blink and see his smug, smiling face. He palms my head with his hand and roughly rubs the top. “You can head back to the barn with the other goats.”

Lifting myself from the chair, it spins, giving me a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hand instinctively goes to my head, running over the short bristles covering my scalp. Staring at the reflection, I realize that I don’t recognize myself. Not just the hair, everything. Who I am, and who I’ve become.

That girl is lost for good.

THIRTEEN

Miller

“Now that everyone has spiffy new haircuts, it’s time to clean up!” The announcement echoes on the high barn ceilings. Rat claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “You get thirty minutes.”

The goats perk up, suddenly aware of what’s happening. A shower.

“That means thirty minutes for all forty-seven of you!” He grins in a way that’s both wicked and fun. “You can go one at a time, lather one another together, clean each other balls, or whatever equation you can come up with, buteveryonegets wet.”

The barn reeks. Not from the former occupants—from the pledges. Two days of nervous sweat and anxiety has turned the room noxious. It’s common for the goats not to bathe during the gauntlet, but it’s also fun just to fuck with them a little. It was Royer’s idea. Go figure.

The cocky guys hop up first, peeling off their clothes before they even get to the bathroom, cocks and pale asses disappearing into the next room. It’s not actually a shower. It’s a stall for hosing off horses and cattle. A couple of long arms that swivel around a concrete floor area with a drain.

The next phase of guys moves quickly, just less enthusiastic, leaving the remaining goats behind. Rat runs behind them, corralling them like livestock. The other brothers, here mostly for the show, form a funnel for them to channel through. Rat runs around waving his tattooed arms.

“Come on little goats,” Rat calls. “Baaaa, we’re family here. No one cares if you have a tiny cock.”

“Jesus,” Royer laughs. “This is hilarious. Picking Rat for Warden was an excellent choice, Hansen.”

They all herd together, but there’s one dragging. Shuffling slowly behind the others in oversized sweats, while anxiously rubbing his hand over his shorn hair. That one little runt that maybe isn’t going to make it with the rest of his brothers.

“Who’s that lagging behind?” Royer asks, narrowing his eyes. “Fuck. It’s forty-seven.

He jabs me with his elbow. “Not sure your precious Theo is going to make it.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” I reply nonchalantly.

Unfortunately, Rat is the next one to notice Theo falling behind. A dark expression crosses his face, shifting from fun to mean. My spine straightens and I watch closely.

“You afraid of water, number forty-seven? Worried about showing your tiny, limp dick to the other goats?” His hand shoots out, grabbing Reagan’s arm. To her credit, she keeps a straight face, but there’s fear lurking in her eyes and a guy like Rat can smell it. “Or maybe you like dick so much you’re scared to go in the room with forty-six of them. Afraid you’re going to get hard?” He looks her up and down. “What’ve you got hiding under all those clothes, boy?”

He lunges for her hem, and I push off the wall.

“What are you doing?” Royer asks.

I don’t answer. I don’t have a good one, but I know that if Rat gets that shirt off, my plan goes to hell. I stride across the empty barn and step between them just as Rat’s hand goes for Theo’s crotch. I stop him midair.

“What the fu—” Rat’s expression transforms in a heartbeat when he sees me. “VP.” He straightens. “What’s up?”

“Just came down to see what’s the problem.”

“It seems like forty-seven is afraid of the shower. I was just encouraging him to get in with the rest of the goats.” He looks over my shoulder to where I know Royer is watching. “Pres said, everyone gets wet.”

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