Spite Club (Mason Brothers 1)

“Where are you hearing this shit?” I asked. There was no way she was talking to Gina. The two of them didn’t inhabit the same planet. I didn’t blame her because right now I didn’t want to inhabit Gina’s planet, either.

She took another sip of her milkshake. “I heard it from Josh,” she said.

The beast woke up again and growled. Fucking Bank Boy. She was talking to him? She was mad at him, but she hadn’t answered the question when I’d asked if she was in love with him. Maybe she wasn’t over him. Maybe she was hoping she’d get him back.

Why the fuck did I care?

“He knows a hell of a lot about me,” I said, “but he doesn’t know a fucking thing.”

I must have sounded dangerous, because she put down her drink and stared at me. “He hates you,” she said.

That didn’t surprise me. Most people hated me, including my own parents. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because you punched him. You embarrassed him. You made him feel this big.” She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “He called me up. He told me to stay away from you. He thinks you’re going to take advantage of me. He said you’d come on to me and take advantag

e of my hurt feelings—like I can’t control myself. It was idiotic. I’ve never seen him so mad.”

“Yeah?” I said again. She’d lost that hollowed-out expression she’d had in the diner, when she’d said she wasn’t skinny or good-looking enough to deserve him. When she talked about how mad Bank Boy was, her brown eyes were lit up with pleasure.

So there was one favor I could do for her. Everyone has a special talent. Mine was pissing people off.

“Let’s make him mad, then,” I said to her. “I mean, really mad.”

“Nooo,” she said, drawing the word out as she looked at me warily. “We already said we aren’t doing that.”

That made me smile. “Evie,” I said, “you don’t get it. We don’t have to fuck. Bank Boy already thinks we’re doing it, or almost. We just have to make it look like he’s right.”

“And how do we do that?” she asked, her voice a little strangled.

I thought it over. I already had a few invites on my phone. “What are you doing tonight?”

She shrugged, the motion tight. She seemed to be holding her breath.

“Gina and I have a lot of the same friends,” I told her. “One of them is throwing a party tonight. We go, we act like we’re fucking, and the gossip mill will do the rest. Gina will hear about it in minutes. That means Bank Boy will hear about it. Our work is done.”

She thought about it. She wanted to do it, but she was wavering. I could practically see the argument in her head. “I have to go to work tomorrow,” she said. “I can’t stay out late.”

It was Thursday. I always forgot, because I didn’t have a job. “No problem,” I said. “We stay just long enough to be seen.”

She was still wavering. “You can’t kiss me or grab me or anything,” she said. “You know, to make it look convincing.” She cleared her throat. “No making out.”

I put my hand to my heart. “No making out. I swear.”

“Then how will it look like—”

“Trust me,” I said. “We show up together, I tell them we’re dating, and it’s done.” I couldn’t resist. “Unless, you know, you want to make out.”

“I do not,” she snapped. Then she ran a hand through her ponytail. “I can’t believe I’m considering this. A bunch of people will think we’re dating. It’s, like, a lie.”

“So? I’ll just wait a few days, then tell them you dumped me.” I leaned toward her a little. “When was the last time you went to a party, anyway? I told you, you’re missing out. You should try having some fun.”

For a second, something flickered in her expression. Temptation. And, I thought, familiarity. Good girl Evie had been to a party before. Maybe not recently, but she had. Maybe a lot of parties. And she’d liked it. Good girl Evie had maybe done a few bad things in her time.

Then she closed her expression off and put on her pinched, nice-girl scowl. “Fine, jerkoff,” she said. “I’ll do it. But just for revenge. And I’m bringing mace.”

“You really know how to show a guy a good time,” I said. “I’ll pick you up at nine.”

Eight