Page 90 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“Oscar …” I start, but then he’s standing up straight as the door opens behind me. It’s Vic. I know without even turning around because our souls are twisted together and covered in thorns. If one of us pulls away, it hurts. Those thorns cut and make us both bleed.
In less time than it takes me to pull in a single breath, Oscar shuts down, his mouth thinning into a sharp line, his eyes darkening. Our moment is over, but somehow, even though what he’s just told me is unbelievably awful, I have hope for us both.
“We’re ready to go,” Victor says, but I can’t turn and look at him. We’re essentially going to a birthday party for his new girlfriend. I want to puke. When did I lose my ovaries and agree to this shit?
“Okay,” I say, feeling my stomach open up into a pit. Victor moves away without saying anything else and Oscar sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with two long, tattooed fingers.
“Christ, you two will be the death of me,” he snarls, opening his eyes again and then grabbing my arm. He drags me out of the room before I tear away from him and we go storming down the stairs together.
Everyone is pissed off by the time we pile into the car.
“I want my goddamn Camaro back,” Hael says, starting the Firebird and cursing as the engine makes a funny sound. “Son of a bitch.”
“Brittany is back from the slopes,” Oscar offers, because the little rat bitch has been in Vail, Colorado for weeks on a surprise Christmas vacay. We thought at first that she was leaving to have her baby in secret or some other weird, medieval type bullshit. But she’s back again, and we have to deal with her.
“Yeah, I was aware of that,” Hael says, pulling out of the driveway so fast that he leaves black skid marks on the pavement. He cranks up the music to inhuman levels and we hit the road at twice the usual speed limit. I change the song to one that I like and close my eyes, letting the rhythm take me as we hit the highway, heading right across the river toward the Oak Park neighborhood.
Fancy.
Makes Ophelia and Tom’s place in Oak River Heights look like shit.
Vic drives the Bronco with Aaron and Cal, leaving me with Hael and Oscar.
“You can admit that you’re jealous as fuck,” Hael explains, turning the music down when we get to the fancy neighborhood and he slows down substantially, rolling down the window and scoping out the houses. I don’t think he’s looking at the architecture though. Pretty sure he’s canvassing places to rob. “Just say it, so I don’t have to make fun of you so much.”
“Please stop.” I turn toward him with a sharp smile on my lips. They’re painted black today. Black. I’m channeling my inner goth girl. “I’d really appreciate not having to cut your balls off.”
“Fucking please,” Hael snorts back at me, pulling into a short driveway and pausing at a gold intercom. He leans out the window and presses the buzzer. “You’d much rather suck them into your mouth.” Hael glances back and winks at me while I flip him off. The intercom buzzes back at us, and the metal gates slide open.
We curve up the top half of a circular driveway, the Bronco right behind us. We park behind a black Maybach and climb out, finding ourselves in front of this two and a half million-dollar house that looks more like a cabin than the swanky palace of some rich girl princess.
“We’re going to die out here,” I murmur as Oscar gets out of the car and pauses beside me. “Mark my words. This is the beginning of the motherfucking end.”
“And you’re such the expert,” he fires back at me, following me up the wide steps. On either side of me, there are columns made of river rocks. It’s ridiculously rustic on the outside, complete with log cabin walls. Huh. More of those Southern California assholes who move up here and think of Oregon as their forested playground. I’m in a bad mood already. “That’s why you hired us, isn’t it? Because we know better.”
“And now I’m one of you and this is me knowing better,” I add, just before the door opens and I find Trinity in a bright pink party dress. It’s not as short as the one I wore to the museum, and it has little frilly bits on the very bottom. The top, however, is cut low enough to show cleavage.
“Welcome to the party,” she says, pushing the screen open and gesturing for us to come in. Vic comes up behind us with Aaron and Cal on his heels, and Trinity’s eyes go right to him. She moves over to a small wooden table lined with little booklets. There’s a basket next to them, filled with phones.
