Page 45 of Worse Than Wicked
“I know,” I say. “But you work for us, don’t you?”
“No,” he says, and I can hear the scowl in his voice.
I probably disrespected him, which might be cause for killing in his world. I decide it doesn’t much matter. Even the people who would miss me would be better off without me.
“Okay, well, I need it,” I say. “I’m on my way.”
“I’m not getting out of bed for you, pretty boy.”
“We make the shit you sell,” I say. “You owe us.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Money, dumbass,” I say. “And you get to move some product. I’ll buy enough to make it worth your while.”
“I can do that in the morning, so unless you’re going to eat my ass so good I see God, you’re not worth losing sleep over, and if you’re desperate enough to do that to get a fix, I don’t trust where your mouth has been.”
“Why?” I demand. “You got a girl there with you?”
“Because it’s three in the fucking morning.”
“You got a guy there?”
I throw in a slur for good measure, but he just laughs.
“Only you would think that’s an insult.”
The phone disconnects, and when I try him back, it goes straight to voicemail.
I curse and punch the steering wheel. The car swerves, and the light pole comes up fast, so fast I barely miss it. I drop down off the curb and keep driving, cursing Maverick, and Mabel, and Baron. He doesn’t have to be so good. He doesn’t have to have such strong morals, like he got them all when we were divided before birth, and I got none. I don’t know what’s right or wrong. Baron always knows. I have to look to him, ormy brothers, or Dad. How do they just know, while I can’t even figure it out when I watch other people?
Because when I do what they want, what they ask, half the time, it’s wrong, but I don’t know until after the fact. I never know until it’s too late, until it’s done and there’s no taking it back. Baron has a code to live by. So does Royal. He doesn’t believe in killing. He lets people live because he knows that’s worse.
Except Dawson.
Except Dad.
He knew when to make exceptions to the rules, while I can’t even figure out the rules to begin with.
I think about sitting outside Maverick’s house all night, waiting for him to come out with whatever piece of ass he found to fuck him tonight, but I’m not sure I want to be alone with myself until then. So, I let Alice take me by the hand and lead the way.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in the gravel lot of the familiar house, staring up at the dark windows. I remember the first time I came here, when I showed up to help Mabel get ready for her date with Baron. There were other times too, times when I was Baron, times when I was myself, times when I got so lost in pretending that I almost couldn’t remember which one of us I was. If we drove her over the edge with our games, she took part of me with her.
I think about it now, how much easier it would be if I were Baron. If I didn’t have to feel any guilt because I always did what I knew to be right, and since I was always certain, no one could ever change my mind. It must be paradise.
I pick up a pebble and throw it, but it bounces off the side of the house. It takes three or four tries before one of the pieces of gravel hits the window. After a few more, the curtain movesaside. I can’t see him, only the sway of the white curtain. Aside, and then back.
I don’t know if he’s coming, so I throw a few more pieces.
After a minute, the window slides up, and he sticks his head out. “Baron? What are you doing here?”
“No, you asshole,” I say. “It’s Duke.”
The window slams, and the curtain swings back. I stoop, scoop up a whole handful of gravel, and hurl it against the house. “Colt! I know you’re awake. Come out, come out, wherever you are!” I sing the last words, cackling to myself as I grab another handful. I won’t let him ignore me just because I’m not my brother. I’m important too.
Before I can throw more, the front door opens, and Colt stumbles out, still tying a thin robe around himself. “Are you out of your mind?”
“What the fuck are you wearing?” I ask, nodding to the robe, which ends just above his knees.
