Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,130

you to call dad and tell him to listen to me. That’s all I want.” Bitterly, I explain, “He’ll actually fucking talk to you.”

“You want me to play middle-man between you and daddy?” He laughs again, voice mocking. “Oh, this is rich. The tables have sure turned, eh, brother? I don’t recall you standing up for me with dad when I needed it.”

“You were too busy kissing up to Mommy to notice,” I bite, before remembering I need his help. I exhale. “Will you just listen to me?”

“Oh, absolutely. I have to hear this. What’s so urgent that you’d actually have the fucking nerve to ask me for help?”

At least Sebastian, of all people, will be somewhat sympathetic to this one. “He took my car away.”

Or maybe not. “And?”

I grip the phone in my sweaty palm, head throbbing. “And I fucking need it! If I can’t make it to my PO every month, then I’ll go back to jail.”

“Well, tough shit.”

The fucked up thing is, I know the easiest way of handling him. Sebastian is reliable in his loyalties—his weak spots. He doesn’t like people. He doesn’t even see the people close to him as potentials for gain. Sebastian loves—fiercely, recklessly, obnoxiously. Always has. If I dangled the choice of him calling our father or having another video of Georgia floating around out there, he’d have the man on the phone in ten seconds flat.

The threat lingers on the tip of my tongue, and not only because it’s the path of least resistance. A part of me wants him to know what she’s doing with me. That he’s not the only Wilcox that can please Georgia Haynes. He’s not special. I do it better. When it comes to her, I win.

But I swallow it back, because the instant anyone finds out about us, all of this—my probation, my bet with Gene, my arrangement with Georgia—is all over. I’m not ready to fold my hand.

I’m not ready to give her up.

“Sebastian.” I dig my fingers into my eyes, watching the fireworks of phosphenes. “Please.”

Click.

I place the phone down on the receiver neatly.

Whatever compelled me to make that call, it’s simple to turn it off. I flip it like a switch, gathering up what parts of myself haven’t been beaten down yet. This isn’t how I work. I’m not impulsive and hot-headed. I don’t appeal to a better nature that I already know people lack. I’m an engineer. I add up the numbers, outsmart my enemies, and make my play.

And I always play to win.

“You’re not Caroline.”

Oswald Collins looks just as surprised to see me, standing stiffly in the doorway to the computer lab. “Should I be? Because pigtails aren’t really my brand.” He pauses, adding, “Although she does look pretty cute in them. I just don’t think I could pull them off.”

I suppose the administration aren’t complete dicks, because they’ve given me the day off on account of taking Coach James’ classes yesterday, despite feeling ‘horribly unwell’. Okay, maybe I’d put it on a bit thick, but it’s not like it’s a lie. My stomach is still stabbing itself to death, I just don’t have time to worry about. My day off has allowed me a late night to construct a solid plan, and the ability to sleep in.

Tapping my thigh, I ask, “Where is she?” I know that lately she’s spending lunch in here, what with things between her and the other girls still being all catty.

“I don’t know.” Oswald turns back to the computer, screen filled with a bunch of indecipherable coding gibberish. “Though considering how she skitters away every time she sees me lately, your best bet would be to look elsewhere.”

Jerking my chin at the screen, I ask, “Are you some kind of computer whiz, too?”

He snorts. “I don’t know if I’d call myself a ‘whiz’. Caroline’s definitely better with software.”

I hum, eyes narrowing. Initially, the plan was to ask Caroline for help, which was bound to include a lot of begging and-or bribing. She doesn’t like me anymore than Vandy does. The other problem with that plan is making sure Caroline doesn’t actually understand what she’s encrypting.

But I see the advantage in this. Oswald giving a bro a hand. Not knowing me well enough to be suspicious and nosey. Becoming culpable…

“I need help encrypting a file.”

He types something into the code he’s looking at, quick and confident. “What kind of file?”

“A video.”

He looks far more interested in whatever he’s typing. “There are lots of programs that