QUEEN OF HATE

+ Excerpt

Kicking an empty beer can off the sidewalk, I pan my phone around the street. “What do you think?”

My best friend Gigi’s face pops up in the corner of my screen as she presses her face closer to the camera. “It looks like a total shithole.”

I flip the camera around so she can see me and raise an eyebrow at her. “You’re the one who wanted to see how the other half lives.”

“I might be privileged, but this neighborhood can’t be anywhere near the fifty percent mark.”

“Most of us aren’t used to mansions,” I point out, rolling my eyes.

“My mother just slapped me for walking on the sitting room carpet because our housekeeper just put those neat lines in it when she vacuumed,” she replies drolly. “If you’ve got running water, I might be open to a trade.”

“You say that, but you don’t mean it.”

She laughs. “Nah, I really don’t. Pretty sure I caught sight of a crackpipe before you turned the camera around.”

Gigi might be my closest friend, but the girl practically oozes white privilege. Her family life might be as messed up as mine is behind closed doors, but at least all the dysfunction happens in a seven thousand square foot mansion.

“I’ve been in group homes before, but this one is pretty bad,” I acknowledge as I walk past a boarded-up house with a lawn so overgrown it’s practically jungle. “You’d think the point of foster care would be to put kids in places that are better than than where they came from.”

“How long do you think it’ll be this time?” Gigi asks sympathetically.

I know without needing her to clarify that she’s asking how long it’ll be before my mother manages to get her act together enough to regain custody of me.

“Hard to say. A few months, at least,” I tell her with an annoyed sigh. Mom’s addiction is a problem I know how to deal with. It’s manageable as long as we’re allowed to deal with it in our way. My bitch of a caseworker is starry-eyed, fresh out of college and hasn’t figured out that removing me just makes everything harder without solving any of the core problems. “She didn’t get any jail time for this last possession charge, so maybe a little less. You know how it is.”

Gigi exhales sharply enough that I know she is thinking something that she doesn’t want to actually say out loud. It probably has something to do with what a waste of oxygen my mom can be, especially when she hooks up with a guy who also deals. Gigi knows she doesn’t need to tell me anything I already know.

But I’ll do whatever I need to do to get back home because it’s the only one I’ve got.

“What do you think of the house?” Gigi asks, obviously deciding to change the subject.

“Pretty standard,” I reply. “Bars on the windows, a flimsy lock on the door and the legally mandated minimum square footage per kid. The bunk beds are practically touching. I’ve been in bus stations that made me feel more at home, but I guess it could be worse.”

“Jesus. How many other girls are you sharing the room with?”

“Only two right now, but that’ll change. I’m sure we’ll be packed in like sardines soon enough.”

It was obvious from the moment I met her that Deanne, my house mother, is new at the whole running a group home thing. She strikes me as the type who got into fostering for the money. Anyone who thinks getting $200 from the state each month is worth taking responsibility for a delinquent teenager is either delusional or predatory. I haven’t decided yet where Deanne falls on that particular spectrum, but I have my suspicions. She only got approved to take girls a few weeks ago, otherwise I’m sure every bed would be full.

Privacy is pretty much nonexistent in group homes. That’s why I’m wandering aimlessly around the neighborhood because it’s the only way to get time by myself.

Not that it matters. I don’t plan to be here very long.

I’m a junior in high school his is my third time in foster care and hopefully it will be the last. Temporarily losing custody of me usually means she’ll get her act together long enough to appease CPS. The caseworkers are always sympathetic with the widow of a war veteran who turned to drugs so she could cope.

I just have to cool my heels in places worse than anywhere Lisa ever had us while she takes her time getting clean.

“Just be careful. No telling what kind of people you’ve landed with,” Gigi says, her tinny voice barely audible as a sudden gust of wind picks up.

The view behind her is opulent. She has the kind of bedroom that looks like a movie set, professionally decorated and probably featured in a design magazine at one point.

I learned a long time ago that jealousy is a useless emotion. It never helps anything good come your way and you never know what kind of shit other people have to shovel behind the scenes. I’ve heard enough about her family to know that I wouldn’t want to spend so much as a night in Gigi’s house, no matter how big and gorgeous it might be.

My hands trace the wood of a long line of fencing to my side. An abandoned lot stretches from one end of the block to the other, but it’s surrounded by a weathered fence too tall for me to see over. Bright orange signs are emblazoned with the words Keep out and Danger every couple of feet. I catch a glimpse of some kind of structure on the other side through the gaps in the planks.

Dark and masculine laughter floats out over the street, sending a matching shiver of awareness down my spine. The sound is too low for me to make out what they’re saying, but I’m pretty sure I already know who it is.

Axel. Gunther. Kaidu. Viktor.

The pack of wild animals who also happen to be the male occupants of my new group home. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’ve already learned to stay out of their way.

They weren’t in school today, but you wouldn’t know it from how often their names were mentioned in the hallways. The four of them are practically like royalty at the crappy local high school I just transferred to.

I guess that’s why everyone calls them the Kings.

It’s a stupid nickname, but I’ve heard it enough times that it’s hard to avoid using it myself.

Sexy as sin and rotten to the core. They practically own the school. Even teachers get out of their way when they walk down the hallways, assuming they even bother to show up at all.

The fact that everyone is convinced they’re also budding criminals just somehow adds to the allure. I have yet to get anyone to straight up tell me whether it’s drugs or theft or something else that has people treating them practically like a criminal syndicate, but I’m not sure I really want to know.

Every girl at my new school seems desperate for even a scrap of their attention and most of the guys know to give them the respect they’ve apparently earned.

I’d experienced a very temporary burst of popularity when some of the other girls realized I’m living with them. But that only lasted until they figured out I don’t have anything new to add to the rumor mill. The Kings run through girls faster than most guys get through their bedside box of tissues. Getting their attention isn’t particularly difficult, but keeping it is nearly impossible.

There is one thing I’ve heard about the Kings so many times and for so many different sources that it has to be true.

Blonde or brunette, short or tall, skinny or curvaceous: the Kings are equal opportunity in every way, save one.

No girl will ever be enough for any of them.

What the Kings like most of all is to share.

The thought of it sends a nervous quake up my spine. The rumors are impossible to avoid, overheard whispers in the locker room after P.E. or hushed conversation in the lunchroom because never seem to notice me sitting alone on the far end of the table.

They call her their Queen for a Day and that’s about how long most of them last, sometimes not even for that long.

None of the girls who’ve been officially linked with them in the past will give up details, if just for the sake of their own pride. Any chick not interested in group action better flip her skirt in a different direction, otherwise she is just wasting her time.

The thought of it is both titillating and horrifying, a belly-clenching combination that feels shameful to even think about. I’d be lying if I said I’d never listened for the sounds of heavy footsteps in the hallway outside my room and wandered what it might be like to sneak away into the night with them.

Some fantasies are too dangerous to ever be allowed into reality. “You still there?” Gigi asks, sounding mildly annoyed.

Snapping back to awareness, I realize I’ve let the phone droop enough that she is only getting a view of the sidewalk and my ratty Converse. “Hold on a second.”

Nice boys don’t end up in group homes.

I don’t know exactly what they’re into, but I’m not stupid enough to think they skipped school to spend the day down at the arcade or helping old ladies cross the street.

Nice boys don’t end up in group homes.

Curiosity has finally gotten the better of me. The Kings are usually gone before I get downstairs in the morning and they don’t come back to the group home until late enough that Deanna makes empty threats about locking them out for the night. They didn’t go to school today and I’m more than a little interested in what the hell they’ve been doing.

This might be my chance to find out.

It doesn’t take long to find a board loose enough to pry up. This fence is probably older than I am so it isn’t much of a deterrent. Squeezing myself through the gap, I finally get a good look at what’s on the other side.

The concrete shell of a building looks like someone got halfway through putting it up and then lost interest. Too much of it has been left undone to tell for sure what was supposed to be, but definitely something larger than a house. A handful of concrete pillars erupt from a cracked foundation in the general shape of rooms. There are a few interior walls, but only the first floor is sheltered from the elements. Which isn’t a problem because I don’t see even the framing for stairs so the only way up is to scale the outside of the structure.

Skirting past a rusty piece of rebar that I come too close to impaling myself on, I creep along the side of the building. The fence looks to be in better shape along the far side of the building so that has to be where the Kings are.

I slow my steps, trying to make as little noise as possible. They’ve spent most of the last few weeks ignoring me, but that doesn’t mean they’d be happy to catch me spying on them.

Voices mingle, a combination of low murmurs and dark laughter.

“What are you doing?” Gigi asks.

Music is playing, something low and thumping with a heavy bass beat. The sound thrums through the thin soles of my shoes. It’s a wonder that I didn’t hear it from the street.

I turn the volume down on my phone, even though I’m far enough away that they shouldn’t be able to hear her over the music.

Then I peek around the corner and see way more than I bargained for. Shock momentarily has me froze until I let out an involuntary burst of laughter because I have no idea how else to react. Holding up the phone just enough that the scene is visible to the camera, I ask, “Is this a better view?”

“Holy shit,” she breathes.

I’m closer to the Kings then I meant to get. They’re only about a dozen feet away, nestled into a little alcove that might have been a porch if the building were finished. The good news is that they’re almost certainly too occupied to notice me.

The bad news is that I just stumbled onto a porno set.

Viktor sits in a chair angled in my direction, giving me an unobstructed view of the girl on her knees in front of him. His hand fists in her hair as he forces her head up and down as she sucks him off. He grunts as she deep throats him which is the only sound I’ve ever heard him make.

Even seated, Viktor is gigantic. He looms over the girl in a way that makes it impossible to tell if she’s being forced or if the sheer size of him just makes it seem that way. The guy is at least six foot five in bare feet and built like powerlifter. Spiky blonde hair is plastered to his face with sweat. His eyes are closed, but if they opened I’d see the bright flash of electric blue even from this far away.

Gunther, or the Viking as I like to call him, kneels at the girl’s side with one hand working underneath her skirt while the other brings a lit cigarette to his full lips. The cigarette flares as he inhales, making the dark red stubble on his cheeks look golden in the low light and sets his grass green eyes ablaze. Full lips curve into a smirk as he twists his wrist and the girl lets out a muffled shriek around the cock shoved down her throat. Holy shit is right.

I don’t know whether to laugh or melt into a puddle of goo on the ground. Backing away before they notice me, I creep back around the side of the building and hold the phone up so I can see the scandalized look on Gigi’s face.

“What the hell did I just see?” she exclaims.

I pitch my voice low so they won’t hear me as I creep back toward the fence. “The Kings.”

“Those guys are your new foster brothers?”

“I wouldn’t use the word brothers, but yeah, they live in my group home.” I’d already told her everything I know about them, which admittedly isn’t much. “You kept asking me to take a picture, so I hope you got an eyeful. That was Viktor and Gunther going to town on some random girl out in public where anyone could wander by and see it.”

“An eyeful and more, Jesus fuck. They look like they just got off a prison transport. You need to stay away from those freaks.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I inform her pertly. “They don’t even know that I exist.”

But Gigi knows me too well to buy it. “And what happens when they do notice you?”

“They won’t,” I reply firmly.

“If you say so, but I think you’re underestimating yourself. Like always. Don’t think you’re safe just because you never realize it’s happening when guys are paying attention to you.”

We both know what I look like, even if Gigi wants to pretend otherwise. My long braids are puffed out at the scalp because they haven’t been done since I left home. Wild hair combined with expressive eyes that have always been too big for my face make me look like a bush baby. Cute for nocturnal primates, not so much for teenage girls. Everything about me is plain and brown, from my skin to my hair to my eyes. Literally nothing about me stands out, at least not in a good way.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting in line behind all the girls willing to get spit roasted in abandoned buildings,” I scoff even though the thought of it sends an illicit thrill of awareness shooting through my belly.

“You might not want to discount the possibility so fast,” she says with an almost nervous giggle. “I didn’t get a long look, but that huge guy was packing major heat. Like I hope he has a concealed carry permit for that hand cannon.”

I tuck the phone against my chest before her voice carries. The fence is only a few feet away, but I really don’t want them to catch me sneaking around here.

“Oh my God, Gigi.”

“At least you’ve got some good material for the spank bank,” she continues, ignoring my protests. “Take a picture of the one you pick to fantasize about, preferably while he’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.”

Like I have any intention of getting caught snapping candid photos of the Kings. “Oh, definitely. Shirtless too, right?”

“Of course. If you stay there long enough maybe I’ll try to arrange a visit so I can break off a piece of man meat for myself.” I laugh even though I know for a fact that Gigi is still a virgin. Both of us are. Talking like we’re starring in a low rent version of Sex and the City is fun, but talk is all it is.

Personally, I’ve seen the end result of too many teenage pregnancies for there to be any desire to take that risk myself. If my parents hadn’t gotten pregnant with me when were teenagers then my father never would have enlisted in the army to keep a roof over our heads. If they’d waited just a few more years, he might still be alive.

“I’ve got to go,” Gigi says, her voice muffled from where I have to phone pressed against my shirt. “Be careful out there. Unless you don’t want to be careful. In that case, have some fun for me, girl.” I open my mouth to return the goodbye, when a twinge of apprehension distracts me. All I can manage is a sharp inhale that barely counts as a breath.

A rough hand grabs my shoulder and wrenches me around before shoving me back hard enough that I have to catch myself on the fence. When I look up, angry eyes the color of liquid mercury fill my vision.

Axel glares down at me like he has murder on his mind. “What the fuck are you doing?”