Donald?” I ask, musing on that for a minute. I snap my fingers like the memory's just come to me. “Ah, that's right.” I step close to Oscar, tugging on his tie. He lets me do it, but he curls his long fingers around my wrist and squeezes, meeting my glare with one of his own. “Do you think I give a shit about money? Do you think that's what motivates me?”
“Perhaps not,” Oscar purrs, leaning down to put his lips near my ear. “I think it's dick that motivates you.”
I laugh at him. How can I do anything else? His response warrants little more.
“You think dick is hard to get?” I scoff, shaking my head and shivering when Oscar's breath feathers against my ear. “I've been fighting against dick my whole life. You are aware that all I have to do is walk up to basically any guy I want and ask if he's down to fuck, and he'll say yes. And that's not because I'm exceptionally beautiful or anything; that's just the way the world works.”
“Mm.” Oscar stands back up, cocking his head slightly to one side before reaching up with his middle finger to push his glasses up his nose. “Let me correct myself: I meant very specific cocks, when I made that statement. For example, Victor Channing's dick.”
“What about my dick?” Vic asks, appearing on my right side like a shadow in the night. I shiver, and then add a mental reminder to myself to ask them all how they do it, how they walk around in broad daylight without being seen. That's a skill I could see coming in pretty fucking handy.
“Oscar and I were just having a little chat,” I say, keeping my focus on his gray eyes. He's tensed up a bit, now that Vic is standing beside us, like maybe he's a tad nervous I'll tell Havoc's leader what he just said. There's a good chance that Oscar hasn't voiced this idea to our boss. After what Vic told me last week, about how his love was selfish, I don't see him letting me go so easily. “He thinks I'm addicted to your cock.”
Vic grunts a laugh, tucking his inked fingers into the pockets of his jeans as he gives his friend a long, studying sort of look.
“What do you care if she is?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“I don't,” Oscar replies smoothly, turning back to me. I could tattle on his ass right now, tell Vic that he questioned me about my interactions with the cop, as if I would ever tell a pig anything. Victor warned him about questioning me, back when I found the box. He most definitely wouldn't be pleased to hear about this. But then, I'm no snitch. Instead, I just smile at Oscar, letting him know that our little secret can stay between us. “It was simply an observation.”
“Well, observe your ass back to class. With cops crawling the campus, we have to be on our best behavior.” Vic turns back to me, his stare like glass, sharp enough to cut. “How did it go in there?” he asks me, and I shrug. “I'm guessing you didn't play the good little girl, now did you?”
“I don't trust the police,” I say, thinking of the Thing. Sure, some cops are good guys. So are some criminals. They steal to feed their family, or they beat the shit out of a guy that molested their daughter. They still go to prison. But just as the oxymoron good criminals serves, so does bad cops. There is true evil in Neil Pence. Combine that with unchecked power, a badge, and a firearm, and it spells trouble. “He acted like the Ensbrooks were mourning their long, lost son.” I roll my eyes dramatically, a la Regina George in Mean Girls. “As if those heroin junkies even know that they have sons, let alone that one is actually missing.”
We all pause as the door to Ms. Keating's office opens and she looks at the three of us with a raised brow.
“Mr. Channing, if you would,” she says, holding out a hand to indicate he should come into the office. “Mr. Montauk, Ms. Blackbird, I'd like if you attended class today. You're both on track to graduate; that isn't something you'd like to mess up in the homestretch, now is it?”
“Not us,” I say, splaying my fingers against my chest. “Of course not. Come along, Mr. Montauk.” I scoff that