Page 52 of The Deceptions
“Whatever. We got shit to do. Fuck you guys,” Mack says, tossing them the bird before marching up the stairs to the front door of our house and stomping inside.
“Nice to see you guys again,” I say sarcastically with a little wave. “So great to have you both as neighbors. Speaking of, are you ever going to beef up your numbers?” I grin when Malic stiffens at my comment.
For some reason, Malic and Wilder have never taken on pledges or filled their frat house with interested members. It’s odd to me that they haven’t been recruiting like we have. Isn’t that the point of school now? Beef up the numbers in your gang?
“We don’t answer to you,” Malic replies stiffly, cocking his head until his body relaxes. “Something is coming, though, huh? I’ve seen it.” His gaze turns toward the clouds moving overhead and casting shadows above us. “Something big. Familiar…” he hums.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I grunt, narrowing my eyes.
“Seriously, Mal?” Wilder grumbles.
“Don’t listen to me,” Malic sings again, before turning on his heels and walking into the house, leaving me more confused than ever.
Wilder shrugs and follows him inside without another word or look back.
“Let's check in at the frat house and then go home,” JJ sighs, nodding his head toward our house in the distance.
Our true home. The house on the hill we grew up in. The house that holds the precious memories from our youth. Memories of her. All the good times we had. Even the devastation of losing the one person we thought we’d run away with. That’s our home. This frat house is merely the place we hang out at and show our faces so we can continue to fulfil our duties as the Franco Syndicate heirs.
I nod in response.
The moment I step into the large frat house, I’m greeted by the familiar dog that lopes up to me with his tongue hanging out. I grin, running my fingers through his golden fur. There's something so soothing about having our old dog around, following us everywhere.
“Waffles,” I say, patting his head with a grin. “How’s it going, boy?” He leans into my hand as I pet behind his ears. He doesn’t make a noise or acknowledge my words when I pet him. “And how the hell did you get here, hmm?” I hum. “Last I saw, you were at home lying on the couch.”
Waffles doesn't shy away from the questions; he simply begs for more pets and doesn't look the least bit ashamed that he escaped from our mansion on the hill. Again. Our elusive dog is constantly going missing for hours at a time and showing up later like he wasn’t into something he shouldn’t have been. No doubt begging for scraps at the local diners or keeping watch around campus.
“It’s been decided,” Mack says, coming down the hall with a grin. “We’re throwing a welcome back to hell party.”
“Tonight?” I question, raising a brow.
“We’ll get a jump on all the newbies on campus. Everyone loves our parties. Duh.” He shrugs, patting Waffles’ head. “Hear that, boy? We’re going to have people here tonight. You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”
“Best behavior?” Brutus, one of our recruits, asks gruffly, taking a step back when Waffles growls at him. “He doesn’t even like us.” He gestures to the other recruits standing beside him.
All six of them.
“He doesn’t like anyone,” JJ says, patting Waffles’ head and quieting him down. “Good boy.”
No matter how many people initiate into our gang, Waffles hasn’t liked any of them. Constantly growling at every person who gets close to him. Including Brutus, who has been with us for the past year. His family comes from Chicago. A prominent mafia family with ties in Miami and Boston. Franco was eager to have him on the team, so, here he is. He's a dickwad most of the time, but whatever.
Come this time next year, we'll be long gone and out of this life. No matter what it takes.
“Don't worry about Dane,”Simon laughs over the noise of the crowd congregating in the basement of our dorm while referring to my wonderful new roommate. “He won't be around very often. His girlfriend is in a sorority, and he hangs there like a puppy with a bone.” He rolls his eyes, sipping the punch. “Pathetic if you ask me.” He snorts. “He was my roomie last year. Same with Wade. We shared an apartment off campus. God, I miss apartment living. Ugh.” He waves a hand. “You’ll unfortunately run into more ‘Danes’ around campus. They all have a stick up their asses about scholarship students.” He rolls his lips into his mouth and shakes his head. “Heaven forbid someone is smarter than them or faster than them and earned their place here.”
I make a mental note of why other students seem to hate scholarship students. Is it because they got a full ride for academics? Fuck, I have so much research to look into. Not tomention, I’m supposed to be a scholarship student, too. This will no doubt leave a giant target on my back.
“So, scholarship students? Why would anyone hate them? Isn’t that a part of going to college and saving money?” My gaze volleys around the room.
Men stand in every nook and cranny of the room, cramming into what Simon called the common space. It has couches, a TV, a ping pong table, a pool table, a refrigerator, and a microwave in the kitchenette. It’s a space for us to spread out in and relax while hanging out.
Simon snorts. “You would think. Listen, you’re in the elite club now, Oli. Greenwood is for the best of the best. That guy over there?” He points to a man with a scowl, leaning back into the couch. “His dad’s the Governor.”
I blink. “Of California?”
“Yup! Oh, and that guy,” he points to another on the opposite side of the room, “his daddy is a senator, and his mommy, too. You’re in the land of the rich and famous with parents who’re in all sorts of high places. That guy?” He points to another man, leaning against the wall. There’s an aura about him. Something dark and dangerous. “His parents are in the mob.”
I startle, looking the guy over. There’s nothing about him that seems familiar. Thank God. Not that my father was memorable in the community. He was a damn menace in the Viotto Crime Family. The majority of the mob, mafia, or gang leaders have connections with one another so they can conduct business and live in peace. Pfft. Peace. There’s no such thing between the families running empires. Only war.
