The King

by Taylor Danae Colbert

  “Shh!” I say, looking around and tucking my hair behind my ear. “No. I did not.”

  “Well, it looks like you did something,” Hallie says, giving me a knowing look as she does a shot.

  “Well, we didn’t,” I lie. “But I do want to get out of here.”

  They whip their heads to me at the same time, but before they complain, they must both catch my drift. Izzy and I have been friends since high school. She was there. She knows.

  “Let’s go,” she says, waving the bartender over and laying down a hundred.

  We get back to her apartment a few minutes later, and I practically run to the shower. I can’t wait to get the feeling of the gross dude from the dance floor off of me. For the last few months, this has been the routine. I go out with the girls, I dance and let a few guys feel all over me, trying like hell to pretend I enjoy it, and then I can’t wait to get home and get them off of me. I try like hell to pretend that I don’t wish it was him.

  But tonight, it was.

  I stand in the shower, letting the hot water pour over me, tracing my bottom lip with my thumb, still feeling his on mine. My hand travels down my body, between my legs, and I close my eyes to try and fight off the image of where we might have gone if Gio hadn’t interrupted.

  I totally would have let him hit it.

  Would have let him fuck me silly right in that fucking alley.

  I blow out a long breath and lean my head up against the tiles on the wall.

  Fuck.

  I’m in trouble. Just as much trouble as I was when I was seventeen years old.

  I get out and towel off, tying the towel around my body as I wipe down the mirror to look at myself.

  Just as I’m about to have a dramatic moment with my reflection, the bathroom door bursts open. Izzy steps inside and closes it behind her, closing the toilet and sitting down on the top of it, cross-legged.

  “So,” she says, popping a peanut M&M into her mouth. “How are you?”

  I look at her as I towel-dry my hair and grab her comb from the counter.

  “Fine,” I say.

  Her lips press into an impatient line as she pops another one in.

  “Scar, that’s enough bullshit,” she says, her black hair sliding down off her shoulder. “What happened in that alley? And what the fuck was with the bar fight?”

  I sigh as I comb out my long honey locks.

  “I really don’t know,” I admit. I turn to her, our eyes locking. “It might be possible that both of us are not great at letting go.”

  She sets the bag of M&Ms down and scoots off the toilet, pulling me in for a hug.

  “He was your first love,” she says. “That’s always hard. Maybe you just need closure.”

  I smile as I wrap my arms around her.

  She knows that Dom and I went our separate ways. She knows that I was completely shattered. She thinks it was because I moved.

  Which, it partially was.

  But she doesn’t really know why. No one does, besides the Meluccis and the Castianos.

  And the Dexters.

  I barely make it through the chick flick that Hallie insisted we watch. And as I crawl into Izzy’s guest bed that I stay in almost every weekend, all I see is him.

  All I feel are his hands on me, touching me everywhere I didn’t know I needed to be touched. His lips on mine, like he knew how badly I needed them.

  But I think about what I told him before I went back inside.

  Nothing has changed.

  How I wish that weren’t true.

  3

  Dominic - Senior Year

  “Have you been on time to a single class at all this year?” Jeff asks me as he briskly walks by on his way to Chem. I smile and shake my head, tilting back to dump what’s left in my bag of sour gummies in my mouth.

  “It’s senior year, man,” I call out to him. “I’ll get there when I get there.”

  My classmates are all scrambling—particularly the ones who waited until right now to get their shit together so they can solidify their placement in whatever expensive-ass college their dads are going to pay for them to go to.

  In a matter of a few months, their lives will be remarkably the same. They might move somewhere else around the country, but not much else will change. They’ll still have endless amounts of their parents’ money to pay for whatever they want. They’ll still drive their foreign cars. They’ll still have someone to bail them out of whatever shit they get into.

  Don’t get me wrong, I realize I’m the poster child for privilege, walking around here with them in our stuffy school uniforms in this giant-ass private school in the middle of the city. I know how much my parents pay for me to go here. There’s a black Lincoln that picks my brother and me up every day. There’s someone who makes us home-cooked meals every night.

  But my life after this year will be different than my classmates’. I won’t go far. In fact, I won’t even move out of my father’s four-story brownstone in Williamsburg. I’ll still have the money, except I’ll be making it myself.

  Because when I graduate, my father will start prepping me to take over the family business.

  What that business is, I can’t fully say. One, because I know it’s not one hundred percent legal. And two, because I don’t even know all there is to know about it.

  I know my dad disappears for nights at a time. I know he and my mom fight about it a lot. But I know he keeps her dripping in diamonds, and I know that our tuition bills are paid in full at the start of every year. I know that my father “employs” four or five other men who seem very comfortable. I know that when we walk into any restaurant, he gets a special table. I know he helps out the local businesses. I know he’s always looking out for his fellow neighbor, but I also know a lot of them fear him.

  I know I want that. I want to be loved, respected, feared.

  I can’t fucking wait.

  The tardy bell rings as I’m rounding the corner, still another majestic flight of stairs to climb before I even get to the room.

  But as I’m rounding, I hear quiet sobs from behind a bay of lockers. I crumple the bag up and toss it on the floor behind me, peering around to see who it is.

  Then, I see Edie Barenton, one of the students I recognize from the special education program. She’s crouched down in the corner next to the bay, arms wrapped around her backpack, tears streaming down her face. Just as I’m about to reach her, I hear a soft, angelic voice call to her from the other end of the hallway.

  “Hey, hi,” she says, and as she steps into the clearing, I see the most beautiful creature I’ve ever fucking seen. And in this school, where girls can pay to look like whomever the fuck they want, I’ve seen a lot of pretty ladies. But this one blows them all away.

  She’s tiny with long blonde hair pushed back in a shiny navy headband that matches her plaid navy skirt. She walks toward Edie and bends down, and I bite my lip when her skirt rides up her thigh.

  “Hey there,” she says. “I’m Scarlett. Are you lost?”

  Edie nods slowly, sniffing and staring up at Scarlett.

  “Well, I’m lost, too. I’m new here,” she says with a soft smile. “What if we try and find our way together?” She sticks out a hand to Edie who smiles and takes it.

  Scarlett stands up and pulls Edie to her feet, helping her get her backpack back on as they turn around. I step out from behind the lockers like a knight in shining armor.

  “Hello, ladies,” I say, flashing that smile that’s gotten me into enough of these little plaid skirts to last me a damn lifetime.

  “Dominic!” Edie says, running to me and wrapping her arms around my waist.

  “Hey, Edie,” I say, rubbing her arm with a side-hug. “Who’s your friend?”

  Edie smiles at Scarlett like she’s a Barbie.

  “Scarlett,” she says. “She’s lost, too.”

  Scarlett looks up at me with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing, and my insides churn.

  “Is she now?” I say. “We
ll, we can’t have that.”

  She nervously tugs on her backpack straps.

  “Dominic,” I say with a quick head nod. “Where ya headed?”

  “Scarlett,” she says. “And I’m supposed to be in AP Lit, but this school is like a freakin’ castle.”

  I chuckle.

  “Yeah, it is,” I say. “What do you say we drop Miss Edie off at her classroom, and then I’ll walk you up?”

  She smiles.

  “That would be great.”

  We turn down the hall, Edie between us, talking about the new book they’re reading in her English class.

  “Ms. Hamilton says I can read the next chapter out loud,” she says proudly, looking up at both of us as she smiles.

  “And you’re gonna do great, Edie,” I say just as we get to her classroom door. I turn the knob and let her inside, Ms. Hamilton hanging up the class phone with a look of relief on her face.

  “Edie! There you are,” she says, welcoming her back into the room.

  “Found her by the lockers,” I say.

  “Thanks for bringing her back, Dom. Now, get to your own class,” Ms. Hamilton says with a smile.

  I tip an imaginary hat and close the door, smiling at Scarlett as I lead her to the end of the hallway and toward the back stairwell.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re wandering the halls a lot?” she says with a smile as we start climbing.

  “Who, me?” I ask with a devious smile. “Well, someone has to patrol the halls, make sure all the damsels make it to their classrooms.”

  She laughs as we get to the top.

  “Damsels, huh?” she asks.

  “Yep,” I say with a shrug. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

  She raises her eyebrows and smiles.

  “Well, hopefully this is the first and last time you’ll have to save me,” she says.

  “Or maybe not,” I say, laying the flirt on thick. “So, what brings you to Kellerton Prep?”

  She pauses for a moment as we walk, like she’s contemplating how to answer.

  “Uhh, my dad had a, uh, change of jobs,” she says, clearing her throat a few times. “We lived downtown, but we moved out to Brooklyn last week.”

  “Gotcha,” I say. “What do you think of it?”

  She lets out a laugh.

  “Well, I lived my entire life in the middle of Manhattan. Right off of Park Avenue,” she says. I let out a whistle.

  “Fancy.”

  “Yeah,” she says. “It was the fucking life. And now we’re here.”

  “Hey,” I say, holding my hands up, “don’t shit on Brooklyn.”

  She smiles again, holding her hands up now.

  “Hey, I’m not shitting anywhere,” she says. “Nothing against Brooklyn. It’s just not home, ya know?”

  I nod.

  “Yeah. I’d never want to leave here. Been here my whole life,” I tell her. I know we’re getting close to the English wing, but I don’t want our time together to end. Just as I get her to her class door, I turn to her. “Maybe you’ll find something here that makes Brooklyn feel like home.”

  “Maybe,” she says, her lips tugging into a smile.

  4

  Dominic - Present

  It’s been two weeks since the alley incident, and I have not stopped thinking about her. Literally, every thought I have, I think of her. It’s fucking exhausting.

  Gio and Carter have been taking the reins with the Landry jobs, but they’re getting sick of my moping. To be honest, I’m getting sick of my moping. I can’t stand how fucking weak I am. The first time I hear from her in a decade and a half, and she’s completely flipped my world around like I’m a hormonal teenager all over again.

  I’m lying on the chaise lounge on the back patio where I come nearly every night to drown my sorrows in beer and the cool spring air. Just as I flick the top off of a beer and lie back, my phone rings in my pocket. I dig my hand in and pull it out, narrowing my eyes on a number I don’t recognize.

  “This is Dominic,” I answer.

  “Dominic,” a man answers, his voice gruff and breathy. “It’s Sal.”

  My eyes widen as I sit up.

  “Sal? Sal––”

  “Yes, yes, Sal Melucci,” he breathes. “I need your help.”

  My skin crawls with a chill that goes down to my bones. I haven’t heard his voice in years. Since the night my father told me we were done with the Meluccis. That they were dangerous. That they were with the Dexters. But there’s only one reason I haven’t hung up the phone yet. And that reason is her.

  “Sal,” I growl below my breath. “Why are you calling me?”

  “Don’t hang up!” he pleads. “Please. It’s about Scarlett.”

  I freeze.

  The bastard.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s in danger, Dominic,” Sal goes on, and I press my feet down to the patio and stand.

  “Where is she?” I ask.

  “She’s here, at her apartment, I think,” Sal says, “but she can’t stay there. It’s Dexter, Dominic. I still...my business with him ain’t finished, no matter how much money I’ve paid him. He’s comin’ for me, Dominic, I know it. And he’ll take whatever he can get his hands on, and I know that means––”

  “Where is her apartment?” I cut him off, uninterested in his bullshit and more interested in the whereabouts of his daughter. My siblings and I understand all too well how a parent’s work in this business can have consequences that skip right on through to the next generation. “Does she know?”

  “No,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper and reeking of shame. “She doesn’t know much. I’ll text you the address. Dom, you have to keep her safe. Please. Just until I get this figured out.”

  “Text me the address. Now,” I say, hanging up the phone and storming into the house. As I grab my coat and keys, I call up the stairs to Carter.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “We gotta go,” I say. And like the loyal bastard he is, he jogs down the steps, snatching his coat off the rack and sticking his feet into his shoes as he follows me out the door.

  “Where we goin’?” he asks as he gets into the passenger seat of the Lincoln. I throw it into drive and take off, plugging in the address that Sal sent over.

  “To get Scarlett,” I say, and his head whips to me.

  “What?” he asks. “You had me scramble out that door for a booty call?”

  “No, you idiot,” I tell him. “Sal called me.”

  His eyes flick to mine again.

  “Sal?”

  “Dexter’s still after him, and Sal’s afraid they’ll go for her as collateral for whatever the fuck he owes Johnny,” I tell him.

  “Fuck,” he says, bringing his hands to his chin. “Does she live far?”

  I look down at the GPS and shake my head.

  “No, actually.” Under other circumstances, I’d almost want to laugh. She lives less than five minutes from us. All this time, since she’s been back in the city, she’s been right here.

  After another few minutes, I whip the car into a spot in front of her apartment building and practically hop out before the car is even in park. Carter’s on my tail as we rush into the building, and I take the stairs two-by-two until I reach the third floor.

  I look around when we get there, becoming aware of how humble this building is, despite the fact that she grew up in penthouses and money like I did.

  I finally find her apartment and bang on the door frantically, Carter right behind me, looking up and down the halls for anything peculiar.

  “Scarlett,” I call through the door, knocking again, “it’s Dom. I need to talk to you. Please.”

  I see shadows at the bottom of the door, and my pulse quickens. I hope to God it’s her and not one of them. I hope to God we’re not too late.

  “Scarlett, please,” I plead. “It’s about your dad.”

  Finally, I hear the chain lock slide across the door, and the bo
ttom latch clicks as she pulls the door open.

  “Dominic? What are you…” she goes to ask but then sees Carter behind me. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with my father?”

  I shake my head.

  “He’s okay, but can we come in?”

  She pauses for a moment, looking from one of us to the other, but then holds the door open. I try to ignore the fact that her pajama shorts are painfully short as I walk by her. Carter closes the door and locks it then walks through the apartment to her windows, looking out of them for any possible vantage points.

  “What is going on?”

  “Look, I’ll explain it,” I say, looking around, “but I need you to come with us.”

  “Dominic, if this is about the other night—”

  “Scar,” I say, taking a step toward her. “It’s not, I swear. Your dad just called me. I need you to come with me, stay at our place for a while.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me then crosses her arms over her chest.

  “I’m sorry...what?”

  She looks at me, then to Carter again, then back to me.

  “What is this? I’m supposed to just hop in the car with you and come play some fucked-up game of grown-up house? I need to call my dad.”

  I growl and run a hand through my hair.

  “Scarlett, you can call him from the car, okay? I promise you. But right now, I need you to grab a few things you need and come with us.”

  She stands as still as a tree, sticking a hip out and staring at me without batting one of those bewitching eyes.

  “Scarlett.”

  “Dominic.”

  “Scar, you have to––”

  “I don’t have to do shit, Dominic,” she says. “Goddammit!” She kicks the wall next to her, throwing her hands into her hair. “All I ever wanted was to stay out of whatever bullshit my father got himself into.”

  “I know, Scar,” I say, trying to keep my voice low and steady. “But unfortunately, you’re already in it. And the only way out is if we leave. Now.”

  Her eyes meet mine from across the room, and she hangs her head.

  “You and I both know there is only one way out of this once you’re in.”