Now is not the time to talk to her.
I’ve heard nothing about, or from, The Elite since burning my seven grand and getting myself arrested yesterday. I’m beginning to think I imagined the whole Elite bullshit. That maybe they were a figment of my imagination. It was only an overheard conversation that had set me on this path anyway, so I’ve obviously fucked up my facts somewhere along the line.
I take another sip, thinking back to that day.
“I want Sabella in. She deserves this. She’s the perfect candidate,” Maxwell’s voice rings out in a hushed tone from his office.
“I don’t think she could stomach The Elite. The things that are required are made for a particular type of person, and I don’t see that perfect daughter of yours having any of the desired qualities required, Maxwell,” a woman’s voice I don’t recognize replies.
I scowl and move closer to the door so I can hear better. Elite? What the hell is The Elite?
“Sabella may be an innocent, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be suitable. I have the funds, and she’ll be ready to pledge when the time comes. I really—”
“What about the boy? Samuel? He seems like more of an Elite fit,” she says, cutting him off. My attention piques even more, and I glance around the lobby to make sure no one is near. “I hear he’s rebellious. A wild one, as they say.”
Maxwell laughs. It’s deep and rumbling and grates on every one of my nerves. My hands clench into tight fists, and my jaw ticks with annoyance.
“Samuel isn’t Elite quality,” he says simply, as if that’s enough of an explanation.
“No?”
“No.”
“And why’s that?” she replies. I hear the click-clacking of her heels as she walks around Maxwell’s office. The sound cuts off her next words to me, but the slam of Maxwell’s hand on the desk is easy to distinguish.
“I said no!” he yells. “He’s not good enough.”
“Says you.”
“He’s too rash, too reckless, and he can’t be trusted. Sabella is the one you want. The one The Elite needs.”
The other woman laughs, the sound like a witch’s cackle. “Let me make something very clear to you. The Elite don’t need anyone, Mr. Gunner. People need The Elite. We’ll take Sabella, but only if we get the brother enrolled at St. Augustine too. I have a feeling he’ll be useful to us. Maybe not Elite, but useful all the same.”
There’s silence for a long time, and I scowl at the closed door, wishing I was inside to see this other person, but mostly so I could see the look on Maxwell’s face. I’ve never met anyone who held anything over him, but this woman—this Elite—clearly does.
“I’ll need to think on it,” he finally replies.
“Don’t think too long, or the choice will be taken from you. The Elite don’t wait for anyone,” she bites out. “The Elite is for just that—The Elite. The top of society. Samuel is already on our radar, but Sabella…well, she’s done nothing to stand out to us. Nothing to catch our attention. My favors extend to you for a limited time only. My brother can never know of this offer.”
“Fine,” Maxwell replies.
Her shoes click-clack on the floor again, coming toward the door, and I dart back up the stairs, making it to the top just as she opens the office door and leaves.
I try to catch a glimpse of her, but the most I get is long black hair pulled back in a hairband.
I head out to the balcony, taking in a lungful of New Orleans’ air. I feel antsy, despite the concoction of drugs and drink in my system. My mood is dark, and the more I’m left to think, the darker it gets.
Laughter erupts from farther down the balcony, and I look across at the two guys talking. They look like they’re sharing some inside joke, their friendship clearly strong. I’ve never had that—a real friendship. I’ve never really wanted it, but tonight, for some reason, seeing these two makes me yearn for something more than the bleak existence I live in.
Two women make their way over to the two guys before draping themselves over them and giggling. Their dresses are so short and lowcut, their asses are practically hanging out, and their huge tits bulge from the top. One of the guys grabs a woman by the waist and drags her body to his. He leans in, gripping her face in his hands, and plunges his tongue into her mouth. She practically melts at his contact. Looks like someone has the Romeo touch.
“Samuel,” Daniel calls my name and gets up from the wrought iron chair he’s sitting in. He grabs the hand of the girl he’s with and starts walking toward me. He doesn’t belong here, in this place, with these types of people. He stands out by a mile with his scruffy clothes and bedraggled hair. Not to mention, the guy’s out of his head, his skin pale and sweaty, and his eyes practically rolling.
He places a hand on my shoulder as he reaches me, pulling to a stop as he drags the girl he’s with against his chest. “This pretty little thing’s been staring at you all night,” he slurs, kissing the top of her head. “Can’t seem to get her to believe I’m the better man, though.” He shrugs and laughs.
The girl’s petite. She smiles up at me through thick, dark lashes that can’t possibly be real.
“That’s because you don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, side-eyeing Daniel. “Every man and woman in here knows I’m the better man.”
