I spun the dial, feeling the faint click resound within me.
“No need, Paris.”
Light peeked through the slates, shining on the gleaming curves of my bow.
“I wouldn’t miss Ruckus Royale for anything.”
***
Arsenio
Ruckus was in full swing. Dante would be impressed.
Actually, I could tell he was. Dancing with a group of painted naked ladies, he howled as they stripped his clothes and ran their hands all over, turning him into a Jackson Pollock painting. He’d owed us a thank-you for correcting his mistake and naming the Bedlam Boys the Kings of Ruckus. I’d collect if I cared about such things.
What good were pleases and thank-yous? Those were for people who still believed this was a world where asking nicely got you what you wanted.
The five of us spread out on the porch, surveying the party.
“Did you get it?” I demanded.
“Nah,” Roan replied. “She changed the password, and the security.”
“Why the fuck would she do that?”
“Punishment. She says we’re getting sloppy.”
“She’s getting soft,” I corrected. “It’s not sloppy if we clean up the mess.”
“But we didn’t quite clean this mess up.” Legend slouched against the rail, taking no notice of Roan running a hand up his crotch. “Did we?”
“We’ll have to deal with it later. After Ruckus.” I fished my lighter from my pocket, indulging the faint click, flickering heat as I flipped it open and shut.
The porch door banged open.
“Arsenio, baby.” Hands circled me from behind. “I haven’t sucked your cock in three whole days.” She stuck her hand down my pants. “Feed me.”
I tugged her out. Holding on to Quinn’s wrist, I made her face me till those wide eyes swallowed mine. “You don’t ask. I give.”
“Then, give it to me.”
“Not interested.” I foisted her off on Jacques. “I’m getting bored with your sex tricks. Past time we got a new one.”
“You’re such a bastard!” She tossed her beer on my back. “You guys wouldn’t dare break up with me. Trust me, there’s no woman on this planet willing to give you what you need.”
Quinn flounced off. Good. I stopped listening after “you’re.”
“What’s the deal with them?” I asked, jerking a chin at the sacrifices. I didn’t get involved with the Ruckus planning till that day. Someone had to deal with... the mess.
“Most of them haven’t paid. Two are suffering from disrespect,” Jacques answered. “One Cairo lost.”
“I didn’t lose her,” Cairo drawled. “She’ll be back. If not, there isn’t anywhere she can hide from us in our town.”
“She?” I scanned the faces of the sacrifices and finally noticed the one we picked up with Cavendish was missing. “Who is she?”
“Some girl. Not important,” he said. “How do we handle the problem if we can’t get into the computer?”
“I said we didn’t have the password,” Roan said. “I didn’t say we couldn’t get into the computer.”
We let that comment hang in the air and dissipate.
It’s all well and good to say we’re getting sloppy when you’re not the one getting your hands dirty.
“Speaking of,” I said. “Three didn’t pay and two were disrespectful. They clearly wanted our attention, let’s not keep them waiting.”
“Should we do a sweep?” Legend asked. “Take all the phones.”
“No,” Cairo said. “They can keep their phones. Let everyone watch them burn.”
I flicked my lighter closed. “Couldn’t agree more.”
***
Rainey
I circled the tree line, observing the party.
If every Ruckus Royale was like this, I couldn’t help but see the appeal. Carnival, Mardi Gras, and Burning Man all rolled into one. The speakers blasted everyone in the circle deaf. Seriously, we were a few miles outside the main town center, and I had no doubt they were singing along to “Looking For Me” in the police station.
When I saw the paint buckets and guns, I assumed people would be chasing each other down like four-year-olds at the water park. My mistake for not seeing their obvious use.
Girls stripped off their clothes—spinning, dancing, and giggling as they were painted head to toe in their new glow-in-the-dark skinsuits. Amy and Zara were next to step off the line, their clothes already discarded somewhere.
They ground up on each other, wining and making out while hooting guys struggled with either spraying them with the paint or their cum.
The rainbow pill bowls glowed from many hands. The stacks on stacks of beer tubs ended up half full in the short time I’d been away, and among the celebration, five captives hung from their posts—blindfolds gone. Four of them screamed for help from uncaring ears.
I didn’t see Paris, though I knew she was somewhere in there—looking for me. I typed out my text.
Me: It’s so packed, I can’t see you. Meet me by Professor Valdez. (The guy in tweed.)
I didn’t expect her to get to me right away. I wasn’t worried if she did.
Sticking to the shadows, I skirted the party—gaze fixed on Cavendish. He was the only one not screaming. Cavendish didn’t thrash or beg. You could almost believe he was kicking back, enjoying the party same as everyone else. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to be somewhere else.