Page 159 of Feed Your Fiends

“I hit you that night after I argued with Marisol over the tape, then I raced home, thinking better of it.”

“Better of what?”

“Delphine. She stalks me. Or she did. When the leaked tape went viral, I knew she’d be watching me even more. I knew she’d see where I was. So I left in a rush.”

“After nearly killing me.”

“My own niece,” he nods slowly as if in disbelief. “I got home, and she was already in the garage, waiting. The second I hopped out, she hopped in. I didn’t hit Gant and Mari that night. Delphine did.”

Gant

I emerge from the theatre and past Hale’s slew of waitresses that saunter by in custom-made satin corsets with silk ribbons tied neatly into bows above their asses. However, his addition of long sheer skirts added a sheer layer of class. So he had taken my suggestions about spending Bart’s massive check.

It was the least Bart could do, giving Hale a fraction of his would-be inheritance. The monetary part, anyway.

Hale was never interested in ballet. Ballroom seemed a natural choice as he was raised in Pierrot's with burlesque dancers and circus performers who fell down on their luck. People say Pierrot's is a strip club. I say it’s more like a circus, a zoo with wild naked performances. Hale’s decision to make Libellules more burlesque and less of a menagerie was a step-up in his eyes, and still outrageously tacky in everyone else's. But Hale knew parties. He knew fun. He knew how to get fucked, and how to fuck too. Fuck Stassi replicas Bae loved to watch. Fuck me over with my mother’s legacy without even knowing it. And would he just surrender it? A business that could give him so much prestige, the very thing he’s so desperate for? He said his mother always feared he’d abandon her, and she should. Who would want to be a Pierrot when they could be a Pelletier? A Parrish?

Not Hale. Not if he knew, and once he did? All this time, he’s been vying for the acceptance he was born with.

“Why are you here?” I hear Hale ask as I slip into the kitchen.

“I’m catering,” Zedd says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You organised this whole event and didn’t notice you had nothing on the menu but booze and glasses?”

Hale’s lips part, but it takes a while for him to find some words. Any words.

“You’re fucked aren’t you?” Zedd asks incredulously.

“Sorry for being sleep-deprived. Bart gave me three days. Thank God for my mother’s help. She lent me all the glasses.”

Zedd lifts a brow. “So you’re on good terms again?”

“She’s happy that I’m starting to see things her way. Your way.”

“And how’s that?” But he already knows.

“Exactly how it is. I’m a Pierrot.” He spreads his arms wide. “Pierrot’s party, they clown around. Why do you think Bart hired me for such an important event in the first place?”

“Because you were the only person available to plan an event in three days?”

“And yet here you are. What is this, Zooking with Zedd?”

“I’m thinking of becoming a chef once I’m done dancing.”

“Done with dancing?” Hale asks, taken aback.

“It’s just a hobby I’m extremely talented at. But graduation is around the corner.”

“Stassi wants to go for championships.”

“Then she better hope we make it this year.”

“You’vewanted to go for championships since forever.”

“I did.”

“Let me guess, Alistair is changing your mind?”

“Alistair has reminded me of my place like he reminded you of yours. A world champion tango dancer isn’t on his list of noteworthy accolades. He only let us go to Beaulieu because it made our mother happy. Same as with your mother. You said it yourself, she didn’t even care if you dropped out at sixteen, so long as you could read and count money. It was Marisol that convinced her to let you stay.”

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