Bif could hear Derby, angrily replying to Gary's disruption of the speech amongst the thud of running feet on the wood floor, the creak of chairs, and voices either cursing in disbelief or mumbling in nervous uncertainty.
But it seemed all in vain to him: Gary had already made his mark-- and the lights being cut like that had thrown the school into panic mode.
Still, Bif stood there, listening, trying to imagine just how such a blow would have affected him. He wondered if it was true-- maybe it had just been a willingness to assume that he'd been unceremoniously replaced with Tad-- a notion Tad had certainly encouraged-- his own jealousy-- he hated to admit-- which had cut off the idea that maybe Derby was really as miserable-- and was relying on paid services after all.
Of course, it wouldn't be just any type of rent boy pleasing him: they'd be exclusive and pricey.
He wasn't sure whether to be horrified, intensely jealous, or furious.
And he wanted to know how the hell Gary Smith had garnered this information, too.
He moved through the crowd, ignoring the bumps and knocks from those rushing past him in the darkness. He was stressed: moreso than earlier in the evening, and more than when he'd encountered Tad and Derby and their new-found touchy-feely-fucky friendship. He subconsciously patted the front of his jacket, glad he'd brought some relief.
He knew his way through the school all too easily, and seeing the glowing green of exit lights by the doors, and the uncomfortable fluroscent lights of the men's room urged him foward in that direction. But the toilets, unlike a few other things around the school which seemed to have been painted or upgraded-- hadn't changed. They still looked like dingy, horrible toilets, and they still reeked of stale urine and vomit. The idea of cutting up a few lines on one of those seats was utterly repugnant.
Instead, he forged a way to the exit, planning on hailing a cab and heading... home? Out on the town? Anywhere but here.
He saw the entrance, marked by colour of the navy velvet blue sky which had a softer, more real look to it than the blackness inside the school building.
Stepping out into the cool night air, he looked around him: he wasn't the only one leaving. He thought he saw people rushing out, leaving as though they were afraid that Gary had planted a bomb there and they were waiting for the school to be blown to pieces.
He wasn't sure whether he wanted to leave and put as many substances in his system as it would take to forget this abysmal evening, or whether he wanted to watch what would happen now, see how Derby handled the situation.
And then another thought occurred to him: something like this would have never occurred while they were at school together: no. Derby had had damage control, someone standing beside him who made sure that no one fucked with Derby Harrington and what he and the preps stood for.
And suddenly, quite subtly, the bulk of his rage shifted. Gary Smith was an unbalanced psychopath with a vendetta.
But there was something worse than that, which posed a bigger and more dangerous threat. Tad Spencer. People taking out their jealous rage on the Harrington heir for having looks, breeding, social status and money was one thing-- hell, it was almost to be expected.
But being selected to be someone's right hand man, and then allowing Derby to suffer an indignity as he had this evening... was unforgivable.
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