Page 56 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
“Let’s roll,” Victor says, eyes dark as he watches Mitch and Kali grind on each other against the hood of the Corvette. Wonder how hard it was to get the smell out of the trunk? Vic lights up a cigarette and we head down the steps as a unit.
“I was thinking,” Aaron starts as we move across the street toward our assorted vehicles. Usually, the boys like to park out back, in the spot where Hael and I first had sex in his car. But not today. We needed to be front and center so everyone could see the reality of the situation. Havoc is in charge and always will be. “This weekend, do you want to try to move your and Heather’s stuff out of your mom’s place?”
“The move is too soon,” Oscar says, wearing a black-on-black-on-black suit jacket, shirt, and tie. He looks like he’s on his way to a funeral and I don’t hate that. Not at all. “Hold off another two or three weeks. I know you’re excited about this fantasy of playing homemaker with Bernadette, but it’ll have to wait.”
“I swear to god, I only have so much patience in me, Oscar,” Aaron growls back, and Vic laughs. Of course, he does. He thinks this shit is funny. I’m afraid it’s going to tear us apart.
“Stop being a dick, Oscar,” he barks out, straddling his Harley and waiting for me to join him. “Let’s survive until the New Year and then worry about that shit; we can just buy Bernie and Heather new clothes until we get a chance to raid the duplex.” Aaron scowls at his boss, but I appreciate the concern. I know he’s being considerate in a way none of the others have thought of. Aaron knows I don’t care about my clothes; I care about Penelope’s shit, stuffed in boxes and hidden in the attic.
Victor kicks the engine to life and off we go, with the Bronco and Camaro close behind us. After a few blocks, the Bronco peels off, heading for Kara and Ashley’s school. We hook a left and Victor takes me to Heather’s school for the first time ever, waiting on the bike while I fetch my sister and get her situated in the Camaro.
Once the girls are dropped off at Jennifer Lowell’s place—safer than leaving them at Aaron’s at this point—we head for the garage. I’m pretty sure the guys don’t actually own this piece of property, not legally anyway, but I haven’t asked. That’s more Oscar’s problem than it is mine.
“Here ya go, boss,” a kid in a skeleton mask says, dropping some keys into Vic’s palm as soon as we climb off the bike. The boy then grabs a bicycle from the rack outside and takes off. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen a member of Havoc’s crew actually talk to one of us.
“What are those keys for?” I ask, but Vic just grins and gestures with his chin while the other boys pull into the driveway behind us. There’s a blacked-out SUV on the driveway, an Escalade actually. Probably stolen. Victor presses the button and unlocks the vehicle, using a rag to open the rear passenger door and revealing a half-dozen guns on the seats, along with a box of gloves. He snaps a pair on and then lifts one of the pistols up, pulling back the slide to cock it.
“The Charter Crew kept nearly a dozen of our guys locked up for the past ten days and just now let nine of them go.” Victor hands me the box of gloves, and I guess without even asking that I’m meant to put a pair on. Once I do, he hands me the gun. “Do you know how to shoot?” he asks, and I shrug.
“I’ve been to the shooting range a few times with the Thing,” I say, thinking of the way the step-thing looked me dead in the eye before pulling the trigger of his gun. He could hit the bullseye without even glancing at it. “If you piss me off too much, girl …” I shake the memory off. “Sure, yeah, I can shoot,” I correct, hefting the weapon in my hands. “What do you mean they let nine of them go?”
“One of our boys is dead,” Callum says, appearing behind me and reaching past me and Vic for the gloves. “They left him at Oscar’s place. Luckily, we found him before …” Cal pauses, like he’s reconsidering his words. “Anyone else did.”
Oscar’s entire past, his present, fuck, even his future … all mysteries to me. Where did he come from? Who is he? What does he want?
Oscar opens the door on the opposite side of the SUV, using a cloth to keep his fingerprints off the surface the way Vic did. He stares at me from the other side of the seat, yanking the gloves on like he’s performing live or something. I can’t look away. It’s an entire show, slowly dragging the black latex down each, individual finger, obscuring all that ink of his. He picks up one of the guns and examines it.
