Page 104 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“We can go. Just don’t let my mama see you, cher. I don’t wanna get in trouble.” He gives me a naughty smirk before heading for the door and opening it. The garage door is immediately to the right, so it’s easy to sneak into without Marie noticing us.
Hael shuts and locks that behind us, pulling up a song on his phone and chucking it onto a rolling metal toolbox to play quietly. He cracks the window on the far side of the room just enough to let in a little night air as I look around.
Fat white moths fly around the light in the center of the room, wings flapping lazily. They look drunk. I glance back at Hael and find him trading out his t-shirt for a gray wifebeater. He kicks a small rolling thing that looks like a skateboard toward the hood of the car and then sits down on it.
“Looking good, huh?” he asks me, because I haven’t seen the Caddy since the day we got Brittany’s DNA test back. It looks substantially different already. Missing parts are now attached, it has wheels and tires, and there are the makings of an interior stacked in one corner of the garage.
“You’ve been working your ass off, Hael,” I murmur, moving over to the car and running my hand along the length of a rusted door.
“Don’t sound too excited,” he says, lying back on the board and then sliding underneath the car. “It gives me something to do when that man is here.” He makes a sound of disgust as I sit down on the stone steps near the door to the house and watch him. I’m not going to let him work for very long, and he probably knows it. This is our version of roleplaying, with just a little truth thrown in. That’s what makes it taste so goddamn sweet; you can feel that all-encompassing comfort of a story with a kernel of reality hiding at its core.
“You sure we can’t just … make him disappear?” I ask, thinking absently about the party and the knife in my hand. “Doubt you would’ve done it, even if you’d had the chance,” the ghost of Kali whispers in my ear. Fuck, I should take off this stupid spirit board dress. It’s probably summoning that cunt from the depths of hell.
“Probably will. Just not yet. We’ve got enough problems, don’t you think?” Hael continues tinkering with the car, and I realize he truly has just gotten straight to work down there.
“Maybe we should call off the last name on my list,” I wonder aloud, and Hael doesn’t answer me. I can’t decide if that’s because he enthusiastically agrees with me or vehemently disagrees. Could be either. It’s definitely not out of a sense of neutrality toward the question.
After a moment, I stand up and Hael’s head pops out from under the car.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him, pausing with my hand on the doorknob as I glance his way. “And I’ll be careful.”
He laughs at me as I slip out and find the heels I packed earlier. They’re, like, four inches tall and made of black leather. Little skull charms hang from the peep-toes. I stole these from the Hellhole once and never wore them. I mean, fuck, I’m the queen of heels but nobody wants to walk around the Prescott High campus with bear traps on their feet. I’ll likely never wear these out … but wearing them in sounds nice.
I slip into one of Hael’s t-shirts to hide the fact that I’m not wearing anything but for these heels.
He hears the difference in footwear the second I step into the garage, sliding out from underneath the Eldorado to look at me.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he murmurs, sitting up and swiping a greasy hand over his face. I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t think he deserves this, and I can’t for the life of me understand why.
“You’re looking at me like you think I should run,” I reply, lifting a brow in question. With great reluctance, Hael lifts his eyes from my body to my face. The smile etched into his pretty mouth is tired and grim, that crack in his personality as visible as it’s ever been.
Unlike Oscar, Hael is okay with a little vulnerability.
My right hand curls into a fist against the doorjamb as I think about Oscar’s distant, gloomy gaze, about his words, like pins and needles being pushed into my soul. We’re all about heartbreak and unhappy beginnings here in Prescott.
I’m just hoping that whatever dark goddess is in charge of my life takes pity on me and gives me a happy ending.
“I’m looking at you like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver,” he tells me, standing up and then using his shirt to swipe some of the sweat and grease from his face. Luckily, he isn’t too fussy about it. I don’t want him clean; I want him dirty. I want his greasy handprints all over my naked body. “You have no idea what it means to me to have you here.”
