We move to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. I take Amiyah’s arms and drape them over my shoulders, and we begin dancing. Halfway through the third song, my mind radiating happy energy, Amiyah appears with a bottle of something. “Open your mouth,” she yells.
I do, and she pours something with a sour but rich flavor into my mind. It hits my bloodstream instantly, fucking up my head. But I feel alive, nothing negative can enter my mind. We dance some more, giving each other shots. I’m twirling around Amiyah, when something occurs to me. “Where is Prim?” I shout.
Amiyah frowns. “She had a family emergency, had to go home. She didn’t tell you?”
My chest stings a little at the new information. She’s my best friend, how could she not tell me? I shake my head. “Hold on, I’ll be back. I need to call her.”
I make my way through the crowded room. Reaching the front door, I swing it open. I walk onto the porch, pulling my phone out of the built-in bra of my bodysuit. There isn’t a lot of places to put my phone in this outfit, but I’m not going to leave my phone behind. “What are you doing, little rabbit?”
I pause, peering to the corner of the porch. I see two figures, one has long hair, barely any clothes on. The other is Beckett, not even wearing a costume. Toocoolto participate in his own party. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“She was asking a lab question, Brixley. Calm down,” Beckett speaks softly.
“Do you think I’m stupid? A whole day of me not speaking to you and you run off to find someone new? You’re pathetic.”
He takes a step closer to me. “Watch it,” he growls.
“Do we have a fucking problem here?” Vance asks, stepping up to the porch with a golf club in his hand.
I don’t think, I react. I grab the golf club from his hand and begin walking to the super shiny black car sitting in the driveway. It has some complicated model name only rich people would name their children, but I can’t remember what it is. “Play some music for me, Vance. I’m feeling theatrical tonight.”
“Pick your poison, Soulless.”
“What about “i hope ur miserable until ur dead” by Nessa Barrett?”
Vance tsks. “Pick something with some depth. Like “Walk” by Pantera.”
I hold up my hand. “Play the fucking song, Vance.”
He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”
The music begins playing as I raise the golf club over my head and smash out the passenger window. “What the fuck?” Beckett shouts, but I hear him grunt.
“Back up,” Vance warns in a calm and deadly voice.
“Why are you getting in my way? She’s literally smashing my car window.”
“Because whatever you did, you deserve it,” Vance says.Fucked me on my dead parents’ grave. I swing the club into the headlights, the glass shattering. “Perfect form, Soulless,” Vance praises, and a laugh slips from me. I get lost in the music, the stress leaving my body with every swing I take at Beckett’s car. I faintly hear him in the background, but I zone him out until I’m done.
“Brixley,” Beckett says softly.
“Fuck off,” I whisper, my eyes shining.
Beckett takes a step toward me, but Vance blocks him. “Give her some space. When and if she wants to talk to you, she will.”
Beckett looks over Vance’s shoulder at me, something shifting in his eyes, before he sighs and takes a step back. “Yeah, all right.”
He walks into the house, and I hand Vance his bent golf club back. “Why are you always protecting me?” I ask.
He looks down at me, emotion I’ve never seen from him flashing in his eyes. “You really don’t remember me?” I shake my head sadly. “Let’s take a ride, maybe I can jog your memory a little.”
After Vance gets me some food tosoberme up, we drive up a mountain. Far deep into the thick forest. You can see so many stars out here, and it’s beautiful. We pull up to big iron gates. Gothic ones like out ofThe Addams Family. He pushes in a code, and they swing open, lights in the gothic dark mansion flicking on as he types things on his phone. “Your house?” I guess.
“Yeah, how could you tell?”
I laugh. “Just a hunch.” My laughter dies off as I stare at the beautiful home. “I’ll ask you again,” I say quietly. “Why are you always protecting me?”
Vance climbs out of the car, ignoring me. I follow closely behind him as he walks into his home. It’s a house out of Pinterest. Swear to God. Black chandeliers sparkle against black mirrored reflective walls. Black and charcoal gray appliances. Iron tables and chairs. Black leather couches and black tile flooring. The décor is as if he only shops during October. Like a modern Victorian mansion. And it screams Vance.