Gluttony, page 6
My phone rings, and I purposefully ignore it, thinking it’s Mason. When I look down and see on the second ring it’s Rhett, I immediately pick up.
“I’m in,” he slurs.
“Rhett?” I’m already on my feet, panic rising up in my chest.
“I’m in, and I lost her.” He hiccups, then makes a croaking sound. Fuck, he may even be crying. “It cost me her. Someone recorded us. She saw it. Thinks it was me.”
Goddamn the stupid Elite.
Hang in there, brother, I’m on my way.
After I tossed Rhett’s sobbing ass into his bed, I gritted my teeth and headed to the one place I didn’t want to go: Lillian Griffin’s house. Not to see that bitch, but to see her stepdaughter whom Rhett is so fucking in love with.
He owes me.
He so owes me for this shit.
I park a few houses down, then prowl through the shadows to make my way to the only window with light streaming out. From my vantage point, the room looks kind of girly. I’ll have to take my chances. Scooping up a rock, I heave it at the window to get her attention. One of the panes shatters.
Well, I never claimed to be some goddamn Romeo.
Chastity rushes over to the window and lifts it. “Are you insane?” she hisses. “You broke my window!”
“I’ll buy you a new one.” I shrug. “I need to talk to you.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “So talk.”
This brat is really going to make me bark this shit from the lawn. Whatever, man. It’s for Rhett.
“It was me,” I bite out. “I filmed you two.”
“What?” she screeches. “Why would you do that? To your best friend?”
I didn’t, but that’s beside the point.
“It was a task. Some bullshit brotherhood shit. Just trust me, he had nothing to do with it.” It was someone else, and since no one else is stepping up to take the blame, my best guess was Envy’s creepy ass had something to do with it. But it doesn’t hurt me for her to think it was me—anything to get my best friend out of hot water with his girl so he can sober the fuck up.
She glowers at me. “Stay right there. We’re not done talking about this.”
Why do I feel like I’m about to get my ass beat by a shrimpy little blonde?
Wouldn’t be the first time a girl’s been pissed at me.
I seriously doubt it’ll be the last.
God
A couple weeks later…
“It was insane, Zemira,” I tell her, admiring the soft brown curve of her ear. Only Zemira has cute ears. I’ve never thought ears were cute until her. I run my fingertip along the outer shell. Soft too. “This damn Elite…” I trail off, sighing. “It’s been nothing but chaos. I don’t even understand why anyone wants to be a part of it. Like, what’s the fucking purpose? All they’ve done is terrorize us.”
The machine sucks and hisses as it breathes air into her. She’s a great listener. Being that she’s braindead for all I know. Still, I come see her any chance I get. If Robbie held the same fate, I feel like Rhett and I would have been there. This is no different. Those directly affected by our fuck-ups at least deserve to have us pay our penance. And thanks to my dad meeting with the powers that be of the hospital, they have to let me see her, whether they like it or not.
“Last night was bad.” I scrub my palm over my face. “They called me. They needed my help.”
If Zemira was awake, she’d probably want to know why people would need me. Money. It’s always what people need me for. Well, aside from Rhett.
“Sam…” I start, then chuckle. “You remember him? He’s Wrath.”
The machine continues its sucking and hissing in response.
“He went fucking crazy. Head-butted Lillian,” I say with a snort. “She deserved it. That and so much more. Psycho bitch.”
All humor fades as I think about Envy. How fucking twitchy he was. And the motherfucker was dirty. I have a bad feeling.
“Sabella, Wrath’s twin, is missing.” I let out a huff. “I don’t know. I mean, Envy’s our brother and all, but he’s shady as fuck, Zemira.”
Over the past couple weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time with my brothers. Between the accident and all the other shit The Elite has put us through thus far, we’ve gotten closer.
My thoughts drift to those intense moments when they shoved Wrath in a squad car. I assured Wrath I would get him out of there.
“Dad,” I bark into the phone as soon as I hop back in my car. Red and blue lights are flashing everywhere. What a fucking scene.
He grunts and orders someone to do something. Everything sounds rushed on his end.
“Where are you? What’s going on?” I demand. “I need your help. Sam’s been hauled off to the police station—”
“Not now, son. This will have to wait.”
He hangs up on me. What the hell is he doing?
I feel eyes on me and catch Envy watching me from the shadows. Again, my stomach knots with unease. What the fuck did you do, man?
“I’m going to find out,” I mutter, dragging myself from my inner thoughts.
She doesn’t reply. She never does. But it still feels good talking shit out to her.
I rush into Zemira’s room, absently texting with Wrath’s girl, Patience, about his sister. Stopping at the foot of Zemira’s bed, I assure Patience for the millionth time I’m working on it. And I am. I paid some private investigators my dad uses to hunt for Sabella. But as far as getting Wrath bailed out, that’s another story. I’ve showed up at the jail ready to pay whatever sum, but they won’t let me bust him out of there. It reeks of Lillian. She has her claws in everyone. Everyone but my dad. It’s just…my dad keeps blowing me off. Something’s going on with him, and I’m about to throw a tantrum much like I did when I was a toddler to get his fucking attention.
“Someone could just unplug this,” a voice says from the other side of Zemira’s bed. “And then what? Does she die immediately? Will she slowly starve to death? I’m genuinely curious.”
I freeze and lock eyes with fucking Lillian as she rises to her feet. She’s dressed down in a pair of jeans and a sweater. It satisfies me to see the bandage over her nose and her matching black eyes. But not enough to distract me from her threat.
“You touch her and I will fucking kill you,” I growl, nearly crushing my phone in my fist.
She reaches out a manicured hand, running a finger down the side of Zemira’s throat. “Oops.”
“Why are you here?” I demand.
“Just getting my nose checked on,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me. “And checking on this sweet girl. She attends St. Augustine Cathedral mass. I’ve seen her a few times in passing. We’re practically girlfriends.”
“Get out,” I snarl. “Get out before I drag you out by your goddamn hair. I’m not fucking playing with you, Lillian.”
“I want to know what your play is with vegetable girl? Why are you here, Gluttony? Are you on one of your daddy’s errands? I’m trying to understand.”
Someone like Lillian will never understand.
I give her nothing.
After a long couple minutes of stubborn silence, she sashays over to me and runs her palm down my front, stopping right before my belt over my shirt.
“Your power and youth. My ability to strategize. And your daddy’s money.” She tilts her head up and bats her lashes at me. “We could make one hell of a team, God.”
Leaning into her, I slide my hand up to her throat. Her breath hitches, and her mouth parts. I squeeze just hard enough to let her know how I feel about her little proposition.
“Fuck off, witch.”
“What have your private investigators found?” Pride asks, yawning.
We’re all tired as fuck and sitting in a fucking Denny’s at seven in the morning because Sloth’s unusually spry ass called a damn meeting with the brothers.
Reminds me why I always enjoyed being an only child…
“Yo,” Pride barks at me. “What have they found?”
I set down my mug of steaming coffee and shrug. Rhett’s been putting away plate after plate of all you can eat waffles while I watch hungrily. If these guys weren’t here, I’d be doing the same. But I’m too exhausted to deal with the aftermath. I’d have to get rid of that shit. Syrup doesn’t taste as good coming back up.
“Nothing,” I say in defeat. “They’ve found nothing.”
As the guys move on to other topics, my mind drifts to Envy. He’s gone. Fucking vanished. Just like Sabella. I don’t believe in such a coincidence. The guys are all suspicious. But Wrath? He’s so fucking sure Envy’s responsible for his sister’s disappearance. My dad is still being unavailable as fuck, so getting Wrath out of jail has been more difficult than I expected.
Pride is getting heated bitching about Lillian, but my mind is still on Wrath. He’d fucking lost his mind by the time I went to visit him.
“I’m going to get you out,” I vow to him. “They’re being dicks here and my dad is out of town for a business emergency.”
Wrath’s nostrils flare. He looks like a bull ready to charge. Thank fuck he’s got metal around his wrists. I’m not sure I could win against a pissed off Wrath.
“He fucking did something to my sister,” he says in a cold voice. “He came to see me and was rambling about some crazy shit. How he was sorry and just wanted her to love him.” He shudders, and heartbreak flashes in his eyes. “The moment I get out of here, I will hunt him down and kill him.”
Fucking Envy.
The longer he plays his disappearing act, the more I think the whole Sabella thing is completely his doing.
“First thing’s first. Let me get you busted out of here, man,” I tell him. “We’ve got people looking for Sab.”
“Who?” he demands.
“People my dad trusts.”
His jaw clenches. “I don’t trust anyone.”
No fucking shit. You want to kill them all instead.
“Just give me more time.”
“I can’t,” he utters, his voice hoarse. “What if her time is limited?”
I don’t tell him my worst fears about his poor sister.
Hell, I can’t even think them.
“Why the fuck is Dad dodging me?” I grumble as I pull around our circular drive in front of my parents’ massive plantation home. Several cars are parked out front, which means Dad is home and meeting with people.
When I walk inside, I don’t expect to hear shouting. Silently, I creep to my dad’s study to see what the hell is going on.
There has to be multiple men in his office all shouting at once. Finally, Dad calms them down by slamming something down on his desk and barking, “Enough!”
“We’re dealing with the problem,” Dad growls. “Aren’t we, Malcom?”
Mr. Benedict clears his throat. “Lillian has made a mess of things, but I assure you, Four and I will straighten everything out with my sister.”
“And my nephew?” a man asks in a biting tone.
I want to peek my head around the corner, but I don’t risk it.
“You’ll take the two mil, and going forward, you don’t have a nephew anymore,” Dad instructs.
“Two mil?” the man spits out. “Four, we discussed three over the phone.”
“Circumstances changed,” Dad says in a bored tone.
Malcom chimes in, “Yes, two is plenty. I had to clean up Sebastian’s bloody, horrible mess. Your nephew is a psychopath. The Elite will keep your family name from being tarnished over how he ruined that girl.”
My stomach hollows out. I knew it. He fucking killed her. Bastard!
“He’s in a mental facility down near Baton Rouge,” Dad tells Sebastian’s uncle. “I have paid people all over that place. You so much as step foot onto that property, I’ll come back to extract every penny we ever gave you.”
Sebastian’s uncle snorts. “You and what army?” The room goes quiet before Sebastian’s uncle huffs. “Fine. I will stay away. Just keep me and my name out of it.”
“That’s the deal,” Malcom assures him.
Dad’s intercom buzzes, and Wendy starts taking everyone’s orders for lunch. I back out of the house and head to my car. Leaning against Sergio, I wonder who I should give this information to. Rhett’s my best friend and I don’t want him anywhere near Envy if what they’re saying is true.
Fuck, Wrath is going to lose it.
Pride is too risky. Lillian is all up in his nuts watching him. This needs to stay quiet. It either needs to be Sloth or Greed. I’m sure as fuck not going to go see that psychopath. In the end, I decide Sloth is discreet enough that he can go. Quickly, I fire off a text.
Me: Baton Rouge. Let me do some digging on the actual address, but I think you’ll find a certain missing sinner. I just overheard some bad shit about him and Sab. Find the truth. Keep this discreet.
I don’t get a response, and I don’t expect one. We’ll see where this goes. My stomach growls. The thought of getting some of Wendy’s home cooking is tempting. But in the wrecked state I’m in, worrying over why the fuck Envy would kill Sabella, I know I’m in no frame of mind to eat. I’ll turn into my fucking dad and eat every goddamn thing in sight. Bile rises in my throat. Not today. I don’t feel like puking up my guts today.
A door clicks shut, and a man walks down the steps. As he draws near, I find myself staring at him. Something about him is extremely familiar. Golden hair. Intense brown eyes. An older, more refined looking Ken doll.
“You must be Four’s son,” the man greets, extending his hand as he nears.
I pocket my phone and shake his hand. “God. And you?”
His smile is the kind that would have my mom falling all over herself. What she calls a Brad Pitt smile. I never paid her much mind until now. This guy is an actor. Maybe not in his real profession, but in life. He gives me a warm, genuine smile, but his eyes lie. They’re cruel and hard.
“I’m Ward Dempsey. I believe you’re acquainted with my son, Rush.”
It’s been two days since I met Sloth’s dad, and I can’t get that meeting out of my head. I haven’t mentioned it to Sloth. Not sure I will. I can’t exactly say, “Hey, I met your old man and he was giving me some creepy ass vibes. No wonder you toke it up.”
Instead, I spent these past two days binging on fucking powdered donuts, of all things—because that’s what the hospital has. Just thinking about the way they come back up has me gagging. And of course, when my dad finally has time for me, he wants to meet for dinner.
As soon as I step into Chartres Street Bistro, I’m on a hunt for my dad. He’s sitting by the window, his phone pressed to his ear in one hand and his meaty hand holding an oyster on a shell as he sucks it down. I approach and notice a sheen of grease running down all four chins. It makes the remaining donuts in my stomach churn.
“Son,” he grunts out. “I ordered for you.”
Of course he did.
I plop down and wait for him to end his call.
“I know what you want to do, Malcom,” Dad growls into the phone. “It would be easier that way. But we didn’t go through all this just for you to give the gators a snack. It’s called an investment. Let me put some time and money into this, and we will reap the rewards.”
Malcom must be talking again, because Dad goes back to slurping down oysters.
“Glad you see things my way. Keep me posted,” Dad says before hanging up.
I lift a brow in question, and he shakes his head. Barely refraining from rolling my eyes, I launch into what I need from him.
“Samuel Gunner,” I bark out.
For one second, Dad freezes from stuffing his face. “What of him?”
I open my mouth, but then a waitress fills my wineglass. As soon as she’s gone, I suck down the wine and continue.
“Lillian fucked him over, Dad. This woman…” I grit my teeth. “She won’t stop meddling.” Meddling is a nice word. She’s fucking terrorizing everyone.
“Lillian is insignificant to us,” he states, blowing me off.
“Not as insignificant as you think,” I argue. “No matter how much I threaten the people at the jail, or how much money I offer, they refuse to let him go. This is Lillian’s doing. She’s playing some game and we’re pawns in it.”
Dad gulps down his wine, the red liquid staining his upper lip. I wish he’d wipe it off.
“I don’t see why Samuel Gunner is my problem.”
“Please,” I beg. I hate fucking begging. But Patience kills me every time she calls me crying. The stress over all this shit is starting to get to me.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says absently before answering another call.
The waitress brings me a steaming plate of shrimp and grits—slow cooked ground grits, topped with Louisiana Gulf shrimp, roasted peppers, and a Creole butter sauce—which is normally one of my favorite meals.
Not tonight.
I bolt from the table, barely make it to the restroom, and puke up more goddamn donuts.
“What the hell is this, Mom?” I demand, poking at the salad with red shit all over it.
Mom cackles. “Oh, son, it’s called a beet salad.”
My dad rolls his eyes at me as he shoves another cheese biscuit into his mouth, crumbs rolling down his chin and landing on his suit jacket.
“Since when do we have salad?” I grumble, poking at the weird, slimy red slivers.
“You’re always workin’ out so hard. I thought you’d want to try somethin’ new. I had Wendy get a recipe from one of the ladies at the country club. It’s rather tasty, darlin’. Give it a try.”
She may be dieting, but she’s replacing meals with wine. I’ve never seen her suck down so much wine at dinner before. I take a moment to really look at my mom. She looks younger lately. Fitter. Happier. Yeah, she’s fucking getting some on the side.
“Excuse me, sir,” one of our butlers whose name escapes me interrupts. “A Mr. Gunner is waiting in your study. He was rather persistent. Please finish your meal first.”
“No,” Dad grunts as he swipes at his face with his napkin. “I’ll take the meeting.”
