She could sense the other boys hovering behind her.
“Where’s your phone?” Alex asked.
“Who the fuck are you?” Blake said, tipping his head back and assessing her with a single arrogant glance.
For a moment, Alex panicked. Had Mike’s magic powder worn off so fast? Was Blake
somehow immune? Then she remembered the way the powder had burned her throat. She
yanked the cord from the wall and the game went silent.
“What the—”
“I’m soooo sorry,” Alex said.
Blake blinked, then gave her a lazy, easy smile. That’s his panty-dropper grin, thought Alex, and considered knocking his teeth in. “No worries at all,” he said. “I’m Blake.”
“I know.”
His grin widened. “Have we met? I was pretty wasted last night, but—”
Alex shut the door and his eyes widened. He looked almost flustered but utterly
delighted. A kid on Christmas. A rich kid on Christmas.
“Can I see your phone?”
He stood and handed it over, offering her his spot on the futon. “Do you want to sit?”
“No, I want you to stand there looking like an asshole.”
He should have reacted, but instead he just stood smiling obediently.
“You’re a natural.” She gave the phone a shake. “Unlock it.”
He obliged and she found his gallery, pressed play on the first video. Mercy’s face appeared, smiling and eager. Blake stroked the wet head of his penis against her cheek and
she laughed. He turned the camera back on himself and gave his stupid, shit-eating grin again, nodding as if to the viewers at home.
Alex held up the phone. “Who did you send this video to?”
“Just a couple of the brothers. Jason and Rodriguez.”
“Get them in here; make them bring their phones.”
“I’m here!” said the giant from behind the door. She pulled it open. “I’m Jason!” He was actually raising his hand.
While Blake scampered off to find Rodriguez and Jason the Giant waited patiently, Alex found the texts he’d sent, deleted them, then deleted the rest of his messages for good measure. He’d obligingly named one of his photo albums Pussy Vault. It was full of videos of different girls. Some of them were bright eyed and had purple tongues, some just
looked wasted, drunk girls with glazed eyes, their tops off or pushed to the side. One girl
was so far gone only the whites of her eyes were visible, appearing and disappearing like
slivers of moon as Blake fucked her, another with vomit in her hair, her face pressed into a
pool of sick as Blake took her from behind. And always he turned the camera back on himself, as if he couldn’t resist showing off that star-worthy smile.
Alex wiped the photo and video files clean, though she couldn’t be sure they weren’t
backed up somewhere. Jason’s phone was next. Either he had a shred of a conscience or
he’d been too hungover to send the video to anyone yet.
She heard panting from down the hall and saw Blake dragging Rodriguez along the
filthy carpet. “What are you doing?”
“You said to get him,” said Blake.
“Just give me his phone.”
Another quick check. Rodriguez had sent the video to two friends, and there was no way of knowing who they’d passed it along to. Damn it. Alex could only hope that Mike had succeeded in gathering enough members of Manuscript and that reversing the Full Cup would work.
“Did they know?” Alex asked Blake. “Did they know about the Merity? That Mercy
was drugged?”
“No,” Blake said, still smiling. “They just know I don’t have a problem getting laid.”
“Where did you get the Merity?”
“A guy from the forestry school.”
The forestry school? There were greenhouses up there with regulated temperature
gauges and moisture control, designed to re-create environments from all over the world—
maybe one just like the Greater Khingan Mountains. What had Tripp said? Lance and T
had the lushest, greenest shit you’ve ever seen.
“What about Lance Gressang and Tara Hutchins?” she asked.
“Yeah! That’s them. You know Lance?”
“Did you hurt Tara? Did you kill Tara Hutchins?”