Page 50 of Betraying Bexley

“Her parents, Arlo and Delfia Torres, are hard workers from what I understand. Immigrants too. Anyway, they’ve fallen on hard times. The only reason Sasha is at Princess Anne High School is because she won a scholarship and became a charity case to Valerie and Marybeth. From the information I read, their house is being foreclosed on this week if they don’t make up the payments.”

“I guess charity only extends so far.” Thomas blew out a breath. “I believe this where being part of the FBI comes in handy. I’ll see what I can find and get Duncan to take a look into it too.”

Asher stood then. “You did great uncovering this. I’m proud of all of you. Keep digging, and I’ll let you know what we find on this end soon.”

The screen went blank and Bronx sagged in her seat. That was intense. She glanced around the table. “Well, we opened this can of worms, we better figure out how deep it goes and how many more worms are in it.”

Bex entered the gym and sat down on the bleachers, not ready to be mowed over in a basketball game. Going home after being with Bronx and Alé had been harder than she expected it to be. When she stepped into her ratty apartment, no one was there, just like the last eight weeks. Something was wrong, she could feel it. It made her skin crawl and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She’d figured if her bodyguards were around, they would have told her father she’d stayed somewhere other than home and he’d be waiting on her. To not have him there was worse than finding him perched on her couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

On top of that, she’d had some lewd dreams the last couple of nights. She couldn’t get the image of Alé and Bronx out of her head when they climaxed. Where Bronx had been soft and gentle, Alé was all brawn and harsh features. It was amazing and scary. She wanted to do it again, but she also was afraid. It was a crazy jumble. She’d caught herself zoning out more often than not while she’d been trying to write her paper. She’d given up, only finishing later Sunday evening, because it had to be done.

As she glanced out onto the court, her gaze caught Alé’s. He winked before he shoved into the close nit group to grab the ball. Across from the boys were the girls, Marybeth, Sasha, and Valerie weren’t on the court which was typical for them. Their status allowed them to skip or worse, sit in the bleachers, where Bex was.

“Awe, trash always finds a way.” Sasha high-pitched nasally voice grated on Bex’s nerves.

“S-Shut it,” Bex grumbled.

“Oh, watch out. Look at the freak trying to be tough.” Marybeth laughed. “So, freak, you going to make another video? Maybe this time of you and him fucking?”

Her stomach turned to ice. She clenched her hands in front of her. It wasn’t worth saying anything to them. They were stupid whores. “I-Is t-t-that w-what y-y-you and K-K-Kenner d-do?” Bex winced hated how feeble she sounded.

“What did you say, freak?” Marybeth got into her face. “Do you need a weekly reminder early this week?”

“Woah, what have we got here?” Bronx joined Bex on the bench. “The Bitches must be PMSing today.” She nudged Bex and grinned.

“Trailer trash,” Valerie sneered.

"You don't know me, so you can say whatever you'd like about me. It won't make it true though, no matter how much you want it too." Bronx shrugged. "That's the difference between trash and having respect for one's self."

“What did you say?” Valerie came down the benches and got into Bronx’s face.

“I said how was your weekend?” Bronx fluttered her lashes. “Do anything fun?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Valerie huffed.

“Sure, you don’t.” She laughed. “Go away, Valerie. You’re ruining the view of the court.”

“Watch it!” Sasha joined her. “You need to respect your superiors.”

“S-Superiors?” Bex blinked. “I-I-Is t-that w-what—” she clenched her hands and took a deep breath trying to settle herself so she could speak without sounding so fucked up.

“They’re not your superiors,” Bronx said. “They’ll never amount to more than a trophy wife on some wannabe congressman’s arm. I bet mommy has been grooming them for the position all their lives.”

“You’re so fucking smart.” Valerie leaned in. “At least I’ll be well taken care of.”

“And alone.” Bronx smirked. “So fucking alone while your husband drinks cheap liquor with some lobbyist at a strip joint in DC. Might even get his dick polished by Trixie, the stripper.” She returned her attention to Bex. “Trixie loves glitter body paint and uses scented lip gloss. I think Pina Colada or something. You’d like it.”

“How dare you!” Valerie raised her hand. “I should teach you a lesson.”

"Can't. You only know how to beat people with prosthetics, and I've got all my limbs intact." Bronx stood. "But you could try though. Your friends would be picking you up off the floor, and this time, you'd be going to the hospital."

“You don’t scare me, trailer trash,” Valerie snapped.

“Oh, I should scare you.” She stepped forward causing Valerie to fall back into the space between the benches. The loud thud of her hitting the polished wood, snatched everyone’s attention to where Valerie landed. Bronx leaned in so her lips were close to her ear. “I know everything.”

Valerie’s breath hitched.

“Push me.”

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