Dedicated to MajenBeos02, Babyalex34, Cvstina
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Five years and eleven months ago, Itzal, Age 17
May 18, 2014, 8:56 pm, Itzal's POV
"Want some?" Lawrence offers, holding out the bottle of a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bottle of Vodka. I roll my eyes and laugh some more with a shake of my head.
"I will pass, Crow," I say, and Lawrence glares at me for his nickname and walks down the panel table to Amaro, Heir to the third Boss seat of the Spanish Mafia. They laugh and pull two Elite Club embossed crystal glasses from the bar to pour some vodka. My eyes take in the room and the mostly relaxed Heirs. 'For every panel, there must be fifteen of us. None of us chose to be here but were sent a missive by the Elite Club Alum, similar to jury duty. To most of the Elite, listening to students come and discuss their problems on campus is a punishment. But for those of us needing a little tension release, we know that though there will be many that come with bullshit problems, there will be one that has an actual score to settle. Not only does that student have to 'barter' for our services, but it usually allows us to beat the shit out of someone... Well, those that find the culprit first.'
'Our last student was an Upper-class jerkoff that wanted a teacher tormented for the unpardonable offense of telling him to be quiet while they spoke. And on his little power-hungry streak, he had tried, with all the influence he does not have, to get the teacher back and ended up with a Demerit. His third Demerit of the semester, which prevents him from competing in any school sports until he attends detention. Detention... all this to get out of detention! This imbecile then 'gifted' us the bottle of Vodka as an incentive to do his dirty work for him. The thing is, he left, and we looked at each other and laughed.'
'Tavin, the Heir to the Top Underboss position of the Irish Mafia, fakes falling out of his chair after he tastes the Vodka. Raucous laughter fills the room, and I smile. We are the Elite. We get the best that this school has to offer. If I wanted to waste my money on a quarter of a million Vodka, I would purchase a bottle. But what I am not ever going to do is be some Prep boy's hired muscle so they can keep that bottle over there.'
"How many do we have left, Hunt?" Victor says to the German-British Heir to the Second Boss position of the German Mafia. At Victor's ire, Hunt scrabbles to find the list, which falls on the floor. Victor glares at him as if Hunt has single-handedly ruined his night.
"Fuck this!" Victor snarls and slams his glass down, making a crack run up the glass. He lets it go, and the red hue of his blood stains his white-starched blazer as he snatches it to make his way out of the door.
"You will have to come back next Saturday." Alexio, Heir to the first Boss position of the Portuguese Mafia, reminds him, and Victor glares at him for daring to speak to him then storms off.
"That guy has issues." A new Australian Elite whispers, and we all stare at him.
"I'm sorry, um, Itzal." He stutters, and we laugh, further confusing him. Rron, an Albanian Heir to Captain, hits him on the back.
"The French are the broken branch. They hate each other." Rron says, then snatches the pen the guy is holding and sits on the table, pretending to be interested. So he can poke more fun at the new guy. I sigh and roll my shoulders back, sick of sitting. 'I think this day was a waste,' I think then the motion detecting glass tints, and I immediately sit up. The door buzzes, and the Elite return to their seats as a girl enters.
YOU ARE READING
Singing Robin (Part 2)
General FictionThis is the Second Book after Wilting Violets We have new names, roles, and rules. Pieces of an old puzzle but not a board to fit them on, and we are working differently than before. For the first time, the Monsters that sit below our skin are allow...
