Page 9 of Come Out & Prey (Apex Academy Capers #1)

“Delores Drew! Where on earth have you been?” Lucille barks from the drawing room.

I’m not late; hell, I’m almost early.

Bruiser showed up at Shifter Secondary before the last bell rang, and I skipped out of my scintillating hemline conversation with the Heathers in plenty of time to get to the Escalade quickly. He drove straight home, and even with traffic, it took exactly the same time it always did.

Lucille simply has no idea what the hell time it is because it was martini o’clock hours ago, and she has difficulty staying lucid past four p.m. if the staff doesn’t force her to eat. By staff, I mean Matilda, and when I cross the foyer to the drawing room to present myself, she gives me a small shake of her head. That means my dearest mother has consumed nothing but liquor all day and she likely hasn’t left the house. It’s Tuesday, so Julio the tennis pro must have canceled on her.

Given the day I’ve had, I don’t have it in me to extend compassion to my inebriated maternal unit. Perhaps if she spent less time making me miserable and getting sloshed, she’d be pleasant enough for people who aren’t getting paid to want her around.

Ouch.

The stress of today’s tour and the random hot guy encounters have really put me in a weird mood.

I’m usually not quite this bitter, but...

“ Delores ! I can smell your fear, girl. Get in here!”

Rolling my eyes, I walk into the room, crossing to stand in front of her as she lounges on the couch in satin pajamas. She’s definitely in a mood because her spotted tail is swishing near the floor, and her features are feline, but she’s not fully shifted.

This does not bode well.

“I’m here, Lucille. What can I do for you?”

She snorts, tossing back her large martini as if it’s water. “What can you do? What can you do ? Hmmmm…”

Oh, no. Sharp and sarcastic Lucille is the worst one of them all.

My eyes dart towards the ceiling, then over to Matilda, and I catch another minuscule shake of her head. Bruno’s not home, so I can’t use him to distract my vodka soaked matriarch. This might be a bloodbath, and I know I did nothing wrong this time.

Truth be told, I never do, but that’s never stopped either of my parents before, and it certainly won’t now.

Lucille holds her glass out silently and I rush over to the pitcher, almost colliding with my former nanny in our haste to get the glass refilled before the leopard comes out for real. She rarely makes me feel like prey when she gets like this, but I’m fairly certain her personal version of the most dangerous game is why Matilda’s eye twitches.

I walk over to my mother and pour her another round, sitting the crystal pitcher on the closest table so it stays within reach. “Yes, Lucille. What can I do? Did I not get an excellent report from my visit to Apex today? Is that why you seem perturbed?”

That’s my gentle way of asking if that’s why she blasted at four p.m., though I doubt Lucille comprehends it.

“Your visit must have gone very well because I have not received a call telling me you need to be sent to Bloodstone. However , you know how I feel about tardiness, Delores!”

Tilting my head, I give her my best cowed expression. “I’m glad I could represent the family in a manner befitting the Drew name.”

Her snort nearly knocks the glass out of her hand and she sloshes it towards me as she snarls, “No one would ever accuse you of that, Delores. You simply managed to not make a fool of us in public. A prey animal could do that.”

I’m edging dangerously close to telling her to go fuck herself. Danger, Delores Drew. It’s time to high-tail it out of here before this goes from bad to worse. What can I say to distract her? How can I get her to focus on something besides making me feel like crap?

“Lucille? I was wondering if Matilda would be available to take me dress shopping tomorrow? The prom is on Friday, and you haven’t found time in your busy work schedule to go. I don’t want to embarrass you further by showing up at the social event of the year dressed inappropriately. The Heathers all selected their gowns weeks ago, and I’m afraid I won’t find something you approve of.”

Her eyes narrow as she looks at me. “You want her to take you?”

Matilda looks terrified at the tone of Lucille’s voice and I shake my head, keeping my voice even and calm. “Of course not, Lucille. You’ve got such a busy schedule, and I thought I would be less of a burden if Matilda escorted me.”

“It would honor me to assist you and Delores, Madame, if you wish for me to do so.”

Lucille lets out a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes as she waves her hand. “Fine, fine. Take her to Preyda, Dingo my parents have spy software connected to our home network, and it invades every device within the walls. They had it on my phone, but Gold got the nerd from her dad’s company to alter it so I can at least text and call in private. She promised to go on a date with him in return, but I think we all know that never happened. It gave me the freedom to communicate with my friends and boyfriends without the Osbournes downstairs listening in.

Speaking of which…

Grabbing my silk tank and short PJs, I shimmy them on and head for my bed. I pick up my phone and roll onto my back, holding it up as I click on the group chat with the Heathers. They’ll be excited that I finally get to go pick out my dress, I’m sure.

DD: The royal bitch is letting Mattie take me to get my dress tomorrow!

SmackbookPrincess: It’s about time. We were worried you’d have to Cinderella it.

FaithfulHeir: I’ve had mine since Christmas. Papi took us to Paris on a mission trip, and I bought it right off the runway.

DD: What kind of mission trip goes to Paris for Christmas?

FaithfulHeir: Zeus works in mysterious ways, DD. It’s not ours to question where we are called.

BeanQueen: Stop it, H. You know your Mami just wanted to snub the British royals.

DuchessofDirt: C. is right, H. I had a stringer who has a crush on me. Check your story. Your dear old Papi is just as crooked as the rest of our parents. Own it.

Just like that, we’re no longer talking about the topic I started. Pink’s family—the Barringtons—control the largest news media conglomerate in the world. She uses information like cash, and although all she wants to do is spread ‘fake news’ about everyone, she won’t hesitate to use her resources to out anyone she feels has wronged her.

We won’t discuss what happened to that poor freshman who dared to wear the same Leopardtins as her last year. The puma shifter seemed to fade into nothingness after Pink launched her terror campaign on every social media and print channel she could access. I’m pretty sure she moved to a cave in the mountains of China—that’s how scarce she was afterward.

Pink is straight up savage, and she’ll turn on you in a hot second if she thinks it will benefit her.

DD: Where did the rest of you get your dresses? Sounds like H has a Clawnel.

SmackbookPrincess: Daddy had mine made by Vera Fang. It's one of a kind.

BeanQueen: Mine is from next spring’s Grrsace collection—no one else has even seen it.

DuchessofDirt: I have an Alexangrr McQueen. He made the Princess’ wedding gown, you know.

Sigh. Of course I know.

Their obsession with celebrities and royal families around the globe has always felt superficial. I can’t believe how many hours they spent re-watching the most recent royal weddings and critiquing the clothing. They spend more time tearing into the clothing habits of famous people than they do on their schoolwork. I’m pretty sure their fathers all had to make a hefty donation to get them admitted to Apex Academy with their poor grades.

It disappointed Bruno that he didn’t need to bribe anyone—that’s how I know.

DD: Mattie and I are going in the morning. Should I send pics while I try things on?

DuchessofDirt: Of course!

FaithfulHeir: We have to critique the dresses.

BeanQueen: Every. Single. One. DD.

SmackbookPrincess: We can’t have you showing up looking like you don’t belong. It’s your big night.

I frown. Why are they so obsessed with talking about Todd and me having sex on prom night? Letting my animal emerge is a big deal in our society, but my friends are acting creepy as hell. I don’t get it.

DD: Well, I need to get downstairs for dinner before Lucille screams. Talk later?

BeanQueen: Yep!

SmackbookPrincess: Call me!

DuchessofDirt: Don’t let them make you grovel!

FaithfulHeir: Don’t be dramatic, DD. Text us later.

Sitting my phone on my bed, I rub my hands over my face. I don’t know what I’d do without my friends, but sometimes, they are a bit much.

Lately...it’s felt that way all the time.