“Sickeningly,” Oscar agrees, his long finger scrolling on his iPad. He doesn’t bother to look up at me, as if he didn’t don a mask and nut inside of me like everyone else here.
“What’s wrong with holding hands?” Cal asks innocently enough, but with a bit of an edge that finally drags Oscar’s attention up from his iPad and over to his friend’s face. They stare at each other for so long that I’m damn near certain they must be telepathically communicating. “It grounds me, Oscar. It makes me feel human. You should try it sometime.”
Oscar adjusts his silver gaze from Callum’s face to mine. The way he looks at me, it’s either a promise to kill me or fuck me. Since I’m pretty sure I’m in his good graces, I’m guessing it’s the latter.
“What did Pamela want?” he asks, and I sigh. I guess that’s it. We’re not going to talk about the orgy. We’ll just leave it in the dark and the shadows and the smoke like everything else.
“She thinks I stole her man,” I deadpan as Cal lifts my knuckles to his pink lips and brushes a kiss against them that has me shivering. The dark chuckle he lets out in response reminds me of last night, and heat rushes to my core, making me shift in discomfort.
“That makes perfect sense,” Vic agrees sarcastically, cursing as the cigarette drops hot ash onto his crotch. He flicks at it with his fingers as he pulls the smoke from his lips with the other hand. Aaron and Hael choose that moment to make their appearance, coming down the stairs together. The girls’ laughter can be heard echoing from the upstairs bedroom.
“Can you please not smoke in my house?” Aaron says, and I see that we’re already back to normal. Yesterday, he told me fuck it, and let us both chain-smoke right here at this table. But maybe it’s different when Victor does it?
It’s like … he never went missing. Like I wasn’t stabbed. Like Kali isn’t dead. Like they didn’t all share me last night and sleep in the same room.
I guess that’s just how it is when you’re in a motherfucking gang. This is our version of normal, recovering from knife wounds and broken legs and heartbreak.
Oh, and murder.
Or a lack of courage to commit it.
“What makes perfect sense?” Hael asks, turning on “I Like It” by, once again, Cardi B. I’m guessing he’s taking inspiration from last night’s playlist. He doesn’t like hip-hop anymore than I do. Shit, he’s a rock ‘n’ roll sort of guy. I snort when I remember him playing Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me With Your Best Shot”.
“Bernadette, stealing her mother’s husband,” Victor says, smashing his cigarette into the ashtray on the table and turning his attention over to me. As soon as our gazes meet, I can tell that he, at least, remembers everything from last night. “It’s what all little girls aspire to, the attentions of a pedophile.”
Aaron finally makes it down the stairs, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes with a long sigh. His chestnut hair is mussed and falling into his face. He pushes it back with his hand and opens green-gold eyes to stare at me.
We’re both thinking about Kali, I’m sure of it.
I’m fairly positive that I’m the only person in this room who sees her though, sitting naked on the counter with her skin sloughing off, green party dress sparkly and clean and perfect on her ruined flesh. She smiles at me, and I turn away, moving over to the pink leather Havoc jacket that’s hanging near the front door.
“Is Pamela gone?” Aaron asks, his voice tired and strained. We really shouldn’t have fucked last night. When I woke up this morning, my bandage was stained with blood and I was forced to sit patiently on the toilet while Oscar changed it out for me, long fingers sliding across my overheated skin.
We both spent so much time waiting for the other person to speak that we ended up not talking at all. Well, except for one, gentle Shakespearean chastisement from him. “Oh, let me suffer, being at your beck …”
Jesus.
“She’s gone,” I say finally, trying first one jacket pocket and then the other until I find what I’m looking for.
Inside of it is a crumbled list with seven names and a tube of pink lipstick that’s seen better days. I sit down at the counter as Hael watches me from the other side, smoothing the paper flat with my hand and striking a pink line through number two, the best friend.
“Oh please,” her specter hisses, leaning toward me until I swear to god, I can smell her rotten breath. “You miss me already. So much so that you’re imagining I’m still here.”
I stare down at number seven on the list—the mom—and then I crumple the page back up and hold it in a closed fist. Aaron slumps onto the stool beside me, snapping me out of my temporary trance. I lift the pink lipstick to my mouth and paint myself while all five boys watch.
Their attention is not lost on me.
“Where should we shop today?” Victor asks, referring to the dress I’ll need for Ophelia’s party. What a weird thing to do, after recovering from a stab wound and killing your ex-bestie. Well, having your ex-boyfriend-turned-new-boyfriend kill your ex-bestie … I won’t think too hard about that today. Reflection is for downtime. And Havoc, we don’t have any of that lying around. “Any ideas? I’m not exactly up to snuff on designer labels. I mean, there’s an art form to how the rich squander their fortunes.”
“She needs something with diamonds,” Oscar muses from behind me. He feels close, like maybe he’s gotten up from the chair and is standing right next to me. I don’t look back to see; I’ve already got one demon grinning at me from Kali’s rotten face. No need to add another. My poor heart can only take so much.
“Oh, I already have diamonds,” I say, pulling Ophelia’s necklace out from the breast pocket of the t-shirt. It says, ironically enough, I’M A VIRGIN across the back. “I found this by stepping on a pair of my discarded pants this morning. Hurt like a bitch.”
“That’s my girl,” Victor purrs, licking his lower lip as he stares down at me with eyes the color of crows. “Shoving diamonds into her pocket and forgetting all about them.”
“Let me,” Cal offers, taking the necklace from my fingers and clasping it against the back of my neck. His touch lingers, making my skin pebble with goose bumps. When he drapes himself over my back and puts his lips against my ear, I shudder. In pleasure, of course. I’m not afraid of him. Never have been. “Let’s go steal from one of the Oak neighborhoods,” he says, referring to the ritziest parts of town, the ones that have been setting themselves apart from the rest of the city by planting oaks in their front yards for over a hundred years. There’s Oak River Heights, Oak Park, and Oak Valley. Of the three, Oak Park is the most prestigious. I can’t even imagine the horrible secrets hiding behind the doors of those mansions.
After all, the wealthy play the same games that we do, just on a different sort of board.
“Just make sure the cop isn’t following you,” Hael says, tapping his fingers against the countertop. “She was outside earlier this morning.”
“Aaron, you stay here with Oscar and the girls,” Vic confirms, making a split-second decision the way he always does. That is, without any hesitation whatsoever. Because to be a leader, you have to do things you don’t like sometimes. I guess I have a lot to learn. When Victor gives me an order from now on, I’m going to follow it. “We’ll take our girl shopping.”
Our girl.
That’s a rare phrase to hear, coming from him.
It makes me smile.
“And on the way,” I say, fingering the diamond necklace absently and then remembering that Ophelia did the very same thing at the beach house. I shiver and drop my hand to my lap. “You can tell me all about the motherfucking Grand Murder Party.”
The Oak Park shopping district is even nicer than the Oak River Heights one. It’s been called the Rodeo Drive of the Pacific Northwest by a number of popular influencers. But really, to call the shopping experience here pleasant would be a lie.
Seeing as Hael’s Camaro is in a bit of a state, he can’t drive it. Instead, he’s borrowed a ’69 Pontiac Firebird in a bright yellow. It even has a black racing stripe down one side. It’s a nice car, and it probably took a hell of a lot of work to make it look the way it does, but … it doesn’t fit in here.
Neither do I.
I’ll admit, I dressed up as the biggest South Prescott ho there ever was. But only to prove a point.
I’m wearing leather stilettos, black leggings with circular fishnet cutouts that start at my ankles and go all the way up to my hips, and a deep purple sweater, cut off at the midriff. My makeup is heavy and dark, like I’m ready for a metal concert. Black liner in the shape of a cat eye, smoky gray shadow, and contouring for days.
“You really like to play games, don’t you?” Hael asks, studying me from his spot on the driver’s side of the car, arms crossed on the roof as he stares over it, looking right at me. He’s waiting to see what I’ll do next, and he has no idea what that’s going to be. He likes that. I grin back at him as Callum carefully closes the passenger side door, his hood up, blond hair hidden in shadows.
“Have you ever seen Pretty Woman? That’s what I’m aiming for, an all-out rejection from a salesclerk. Then I can walk back in that store later with a shit ton of shopping bags, gesture with them for emphasis, and say big mistake, huge.” I grin as Vic slides off his motorcycle after me, a deep chuckle warming those pretty lips of his as his obsidian eyes make a sweep of the quiet street.
Aaron is home with Oscar and the girls per Vic’s request, but the four of us, we’re going to make a date of this. Sort of. At least, in Havoc, this is what a date constitutes.
Theft and the careful disruption of classism. They’ll hate having us here, all of these wealthy assholes. I light up a cigarette as a woman passes by with a pink-dyed Pomeranian. “Jesus Christ,” I murmur as she passes. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. “The only way they’d be more pissed off is if we weren’t white.”