Page 73 of Let Us Prey
Nobody’s Fault But Mine
Cassius
Iam going to spank that bunny’s ass raw.
Sitting heavily on the bench in the townhouse’s entryway, I glare at the offensive box in front of me, deciding what to do about it. The only reason I accepted the delivery in the first place was because it was addressed to me, from Delores, but now I wish I’d booted it into the lake, along with the weird pirate raccoon who made me sign for it.
Why the fuck did it require a signature?
Ignoring the glittery fabric poking out from its cardboard enclosure, I redirect my annoyance to themanifestDelores included with the package. I must have buried my knowledge of the upcoming Halloween party—and the ridiculous requirement that all staff attendanddress in costume. I’d most definitely forgotten that we’d all stupidly agreed to let our bunny pick out what we were going to wear.
Stop calling heryours,Cash.
My phone dings, and I wrestle it out of my pocket, surprised yet again when I see it’s Delores messaging me in Predbook, of all places. Professors at Apex are encouraged to have accounts, so students can get a hold of us if there’s an off-hours emergency. I could have sworn I’d muted all notifications—nothing a student needs is an emergency, in my opinion—but Bash must have messed with my settings.
CherryPie:A little raccoon tells me you received your special delivery…
Annoyance flares up in me again as I remember what Bash set my chat nickname to be.
GrumpyPants:I did.
Of course, that answer doesn’t satisfy her, as she immediately replies with her signature stream of consciousness rambling.
CherryPie:Well don’t leave me hanging! I’m using these for my costuming midterm and am kinda proud of how my sewing skills have improved. Rufus and Cori helped me come up with the perfect persona for each of you to really get in touch with your feminine sides. Soooo…. what do you think?
All irritation instantly drains out of me as I clearly picture her asking—those big blue eyes of hers gazing up at me as she waits for me to praise her efforts.
Andfuck,do I love praising her.
Only half-heartedly grumbling now, I stuff my phone back in my pocket and stalk to the box, opening it fully to get a better look at Delores’ creations. Pulling out the costumes one by one, I match them against the manifest, unable to stop a grin from twitching my lips at what she’s come up with for the others.
Bash will apparently be dressed as a French maid, which I know he’ll embrace with his usual devil-may-care attitude, so I’m not worried about him. Renard can also be easygoing when he’s in the right mood, so his sexy Shakespeare outfit could be received either way. Nico’s is just confusing, as I don’t understand why the fuck he’ll be dressed as the hot chick with the big tits from that Titanic movie.
It’s probably an artist thing.
The next two are what worry me. Aubrey almost blew a fuse justhearingabout the costumes, and is known for being a stick in the mud when it comes to having fun. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that lizard take his hair down for anyone or anything, and besides his not-so-secret obsession with cutesy stress balls, he’s as straight-laced as they come. Why Delores decided to play with fire by assigning him a Preyboy Bunny outfit is beyond me, but I know Bash is going to cream himself over the opportunity to make suggestive comments to the dragon all night.
Then there’smine.Momentarily closing my eyes against the sight, I lift the last costume from the box and shake it out before bravely taking in the floofy silk, lace, and corseted pastel disaster. According to the manifest, it’s a princess ball gown—Spiderella’sspecifically, because Delores thought I would look good in blue.
I do love the color blue…
Suddenly, I realize this is a test, even if that isn’t Delores’ intention. It wouldn’t surprise anyone for me to act sour about my costume—to embody my ‘Grumpy Pants’ reputation while being forced to look like a pretty princess on Halloween night—but that’s not really how I feel. I actually don’t give a flying fuck about rocking a dress in public. If Delores wants to squeeze me into the skimpy lingerie Bash insists on buying her, I’m game.
I’ll even shave my legs for the occasion.
My phone vibrates and I quickly pull it out of my pocket again, remembering the bunny waiting for me to reply.
CherryPie:Did I do a good job?
CherryPie:Sir?
Ah, fuck me.
While I still suspect some of the reasoning behind her costume choices came from Delores’ natural brat tendencies, it’s clear she also put a lot of thought into her decisions, and the workmanshipisvery professional. Taking a deep breath, I decide to conduct a little test of my own.
GrumpyPants:You did good, baby.
I see her typing only to stop. Type and then stop again. The minutes pass, and I curse myself for overstepping with the nickname. Bash has made it annoyingly clear he doesn’t mind sharing, is already sharing with that lucky little shit Nico, and I see Aubrey and Renard circling her in their own ways. But Delores told me herself she doesn’t belong to me, and with good reason. I’ve been a dick to her since the day we met, and even though part of that is because I want to see what she can handle—what Iknowshe can handle—it’s no surprise she isn’t interested in me.
