Mayhem at Prescott High

by Stunich, C. M.

  “I’m going to fucking break him,” Bernie whispers, a promise in her words. I do my best not to smile. Even though I have the urge to murder my friends when I see them balls-deep in my girl … it’s kind of funny at the same time. Oscar deserves Bernadette’s wrath. Let’s see if she’ll have any better luck opening him up than the rest of us did.

  I wish her the best with that.

  ‘Cause, you know, she’s definitely going to need all the help she can get.

  Bernadette Blackbird

  The little girl, Alyssa, tells us her last name is Hart, but that she doesn’t know where she lives because her mom moves around all the time. The last place she remembers living is in a motel off the freeway.

  That could be any motel, on any freeway, in any state.

  She’s cute, dark-haired and dark-eyed, but suspicious as fuck. I don’t blame her; there’s a look in her gaze that says she’s been betrayed before by people who promised to help. I know that look because it’s the same one that I have, even now, even after joining Havoc. I will never trust anyone but my boys again.

  “What do we do with her?” I ask as we stand outside on the deck in the morning, icy wind whipping around us. It’s only Wednesday, and we have until Sunday to figure out how to proceed with the Vincents, but this little girl … is someone out there missing her? “We can’t leave her here.”

  “We can’t take her back with us either,” Victor warns, and that’s where I hear it: the cold, cruelness of a leader. Taking Alyssa back is what I want to do. She can just live with us, right? I’d take care of her. But it’s too goddamn dangerous, too risky. If she is officially missing and we’re caught with her, we’re in big trouble. Even if she’s somehow not missed by anyone in particular, one phone call from the wrong person and we might have to deal with the authorities. Risking Heather, Kara, and Ashley for a stranger is something we can’t do.

  “Let’s put her with the Peters,” Oscar says, leaning his elbows on the wood railing of the deck. I don’t miss the way the other four boys still in the early afternoon light, like he’s said something disturbingly out of the ordinary. To his credit, Oscar barely stirs. He remains where he is, dressed in a suit and tie, like he usually is. Guess he isn’t planning on hitting the beach today.

  To be fair, the weather is tumultuous and wild, the beach windswept and besieged by waves. I’ve already told the girls that if they want to play in the sand, it has to be near the deck of the house. That’s November on the Oregon coast for you.

  “Good idea,” Vic says, as if the other guys aren’t still staring at Oscar like he’s nuts. “We’ll have Leigh place Alyssa with the Peters. Excellent. Next item on the agenda: what do we want to do with the Vincents in the long-run?” Victor turns to me, and I shiver when his dark eyes pass over me. I know what he thinks when he looks at me because it’s the same twisted intensity inside my own chest. That feeling, it writhes like a snake with smooth scales and a wicked tongue. I hop up on the railing next to Oscar and watch him stiffen up as he pretends I don’t exist.

  “What was your original plan?” I ask, looking at each boy in turn. Aaron is staring back at me like his heart is breaking a little everyday he doesn’t touch me. My fingers tighten on the railing as I resist the urge to hop down and curl up in his strong arms. I already miss his smell. Probably why I ended up grabbing one of his hoodies to wear out here in the crazy weather. “I mean, before they started dropping news about Ophelia. What were you guys going to do?”

  “Take their Ferrari Spider out for one, last test drive before we dismantle it and sell off the parts,” Hael says with a dreamy sigh, leaning his head back and holding out his tongue to taste the mist drizzling down from the gray sky. “As a mechanic and car enthusiast, I have to say, you guys make me do things that haunt my nightmares.”

  “Shut up, Hael,” Oscar snaps, even testier than usual. Jesus. I look at him with a healthy dollop of skepticism, but he ignores me. Dickhead. I lied. He is not the master of control; Victor is. When Oscar is uncomfortable, his control starts to splinter. Shit, I have one of those splinters jabbed into my heart and bleeding me dry. Hael flips Oscar off, but he ignores him. “Leigh is obsessed with image and wealth; we’re going to take away everything she has and force her into poverty, where she belongs.” Oscar’s glasses are specked with droplets of mist which, really, is the dirtiest I’ve ever seen them.

  “We have some other interesting twists planned, but her level of narcissism is astounding,” Callum comments, standing on the railing with very little effort. Bet he could perform an entire dance routine up there without falling. “We have pictures of a dozen girls and boys she’s sold off in the past; we were going to plaster them on her walls and torture her a bit.” Cal cringes slightly, reminding me of the night that Danny died, how upset he was. He told me, in his own words, that he wasn’t upset about killing the guy, only in that he did it spur of the moment and put us all at risk. At the time, I thought he was bluffing. I don’t think that anymore. “But I don’t think it’ll upset her the way we want it to.”

  “Let’s go raid her wine cellar,” Aaron suggests, lounging in an Adirondack chair. “Let’s break some of her shit. Let’s trash her fucking house. Did you see the way she looked at us yesterday? She was terrified we were going to mess up her perfect life.”

  Vic snorts and nods, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “You’re right. I mean, it’s a lot less bloody than I had hoped for, but it’s important to hit these fuckers where it hurts. Besides, by the time we’re done using the Vincents against Ophelia, they’ll wish they were dead.” Victor smiles, and it’s an appropriately hideous expression. “You know that my father is the only man she ever loved. Her next two husbands died under mysterious circumstances.”

  “Ophelia Mars is the ultimate black widow, for sure,” Hael chuckles, pushing up from his position against the railing and rubbing his palms together. His eyes slide over to mine as he grins. “Wine drunk sex is always fun. You wanna get wine drunk with me, Blackbird?”

  “Hael …” Victor warns, taking a possessive step closer to me. I look up at him, big and beautiful and aggressive, and I feel my palms itch with the need to touch him, to be closer to him … and also to punch him. That’s our thing, me and Vic. “But I like the brainstorming here. Let’s have some fun with this.”

  “Havoc on a honeymoon,” Cal sings, hopping down from the railing and then letting his head fall back with raucous laughter, just like he did in the hallway when he was arrested. “Let’s break some stuff. There’s a signed Babe Ruth baseball bat in a display case that’s been calling my name since we got here.”

  Hael chuckles and high-fives Cal.

  “Fuck sports, am I right?” he shoves open the doors and prances inside like we aren’t involved in several mysterious plots against our lives. That’s Hael for you; he hides his darkness with cocky glee. “Let’s do a wine drinking contest. Last person to finish their bottle is a pussy.”

  “Humans emerge from pussies; balls just nut.” I shrug my right shoulder. “I’d rather be a pussy than a ball sack.”

  “Fair enough,” Hael says, kicking open the door to the basement. He pauses and snaps his fingers like he’s just thought of something. “Let’s save the most expensive bottles for later. We can bring the Vincents down and make them watch us break them all and pour the wine down the sink.”

  “Oh, you’re wicked,” Cal cackles, following Hael down the dark stairs.

  I stay where I am, because with the way Aaron’s looking at me …

  He steps close, ignoring Vic’s snort of irritation. Oscar, on the other hand, doesn’t bother coming inside. I fucking hate that man, I think, feeling my skin prickle.

  “Hey,” I say softly as Aaron reaches out and takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my wedding ring and then shifting his touch to my HAVOC ink. The still-fresh tattoo on my knuckles stings, a forever reminder of Aaron bent over my hand, the needle in my skin, his fingers using a rag to gently
wipe the blood away. “Are you okay?”

  He looks up, and his lips tilt into a genuine smile. He only gives them to four people: the girls, including Heather … and me. His affection hasn’t escaped my notice. Actually, I find myself leaning into it the way a flower tilts toward the sun. Even a voodoo lily needs light.

  “I’m okay,” he says as I close my eyes, savoring his touch against my hand. When I do that, squeeze my eyes shut tight, I can pretend like we never broke up, like we’ve never been separated from each other. “I heard about … you and Oscar.”

  Oh, fuck.

  With all the crap we’ve had going on, I haven’t had a chance to tell him about it.

  I open my eyes, but Aaron doesn’t look pissed the way I thought he would be.

  “I didn’t mean to hide—” I start, but he shushes me with a kiss that tastes like sugar and dreams and Victorian houses painted a pretty shade of pink. Penelope would’ve shipped us, Aaron. When she was alive, she did ship us. Fuck me. Fuck my life. Sadness sweeps over me all of a sudden, like a tidal wave consuming the beach. I can’t breathe for the pain of it.

  “I know you didn’t mean to hide it,” he whispers against my mouth, teasing his fingers down the arms of my baggy, borrowed sweatshirt. When I look up and see his wavy chestnut hair curling across his forehead, I almost die. He’s too cute. How can he be so cute?! Why am I crushing like a little girl? I am over that shit. I am. I’m … I’m … “And I’m not as dumb as Vic,” he whispers, putting his mouth near my ear and rubbing his face along the side of mine.

  Somewhere close by, Victor growls. Like an animal. Like a beast. A savage motherfucking beast.

  “Our girl, Bernie. Ours,” Aaron says, pressing close to me. Our fingers end up tangled together, palm to palm. I can feel the scar on his, where Victor must’ve cut him when he joined Havoc. Thinking of them pressed hand to hand like this, bleeding into one another, makes my heart spasm with a desperate sense of hope.

  I thought that by joining Havoc, I was acquiescing to the idea of never having a life.

  “You always wanted a normal life; now you’ll never have one. That's all you ever wanted, Bernadette.”

  Aaron said that to me on our way to the soda fountain. He wasn’t wrong. I think I could’ve been happy living a normal life. Doesn’t mean I can’t be happy living an abnormal one. Because it’s still a life, isn’t it?

  “Oscar’s … maybe. But I can deal with that because it also means mine.” He kisses me again, but he holds back on the tongue, leaving me to strain forward, wrapped in his scent, desperate for more. When Aaron lets go of my hands and steps back, I feel dizzy for a minute, almost like I’m floating. We stare at each other like we might die if we don’t get to be together.

  “Jesus motherfucking Christ,” Vic snarls, rubbing a hand over his face. He gives me a dark look which I return, but then Heather’s skipping down the stairs with Alyssa Hart just behind her.

  “Bernie, guess what?” Heather says, pausing as Hael and Callum come back up the basement stairs, cackling together and hugging over a dozen bottles of wine in their arms. She rolls her eyes and ignores them, reminding me that even if it feels like I’m her mother, we are less than a decade apart in age. “Alyssa says she’s a really good swimmer. She says her mom tries really hard to make sure there’s a pool at the motels they stay in.” She pauses, even as the bone-deep sadness of that statement washes over me. “So … can we go swimming?”

  I reach out to touch the side of Heather’s face and she bats my hand away like I’m annoying the fuck out of her.

  “I don’t see why not?” I say with a loose shrug of my shoulders. “Go dig through all the drawers upstairs, see if you can’t find something for Alyssa to wear in the pool.” I lean down with a smile on my face, hands on my thighs. “Don’t worry about making a mess: we’re on vacation.”

  “Where did Alyssa come from again?” Heather whispers, leaning close to me and giving me a very skeptical sort of look, like she can’t possibly fathom why I’d ask her to ruin a house she thinks is an Airbnb rental.

  “Oscar’s cousin,” I say loudly, when he finally deigns to step inside the house. The energy shifts in a very strange and violent sort of way. Can’t wait to have it out with that bastard sometime soon. We’re already overdue for a scuffle. I look up at Alyssa and smile. “I know you’ve never met him, but don’t worry: as soon as we find your mom, you can go home.” I stand up straight as Heather eyes me with suspicion. I fucking hate lying to her, but this is one of those situations that will go south quick if I don’t give my little sister some sort of answer. Imagine if she went to school and told everyone we just found some random kid at an Airbnb.

  “You better not yell at me for making a mess when you told me to do it,” Heather murmurs, but then her mouth splits into a grin and she grabs Alyssa’s arm. The two of them take off up the stairs together. Thankfully, the Vincents’ bedroom is locked, so they won’t stumble on anything they shouldn’t.

  “Red or white?” Hael purrs, holding two wine bottles up by their necks. I point at one at random and he sets both down on the counter, taking the cork out of the one I selected. He hands it over and I take a long swig, tasting blackberry, plum, and currant on the back of my tongue. The red color of it stains my lips like blood, and I swipe the black sleeve of Aaron’s hoodie across my mouth to clean it. “Good?” Hael asks, grinning like a maniac. “That’s a hundred and twenty dollars of overpriced. Give me a bottle of Everclear any day and let’s just get fucked up for twenty.”

  I stare down at the bottle while Callum hops onto the counter and crouches like a monster in the night. He’s swigging some white wine, his hood up, lips curved into a mischievous smile. When I look up at him, his blue eyes crinkle at the edges, bringing that mirth up from his mouth and into his gaze.

  “You know what I want, Victor. It’s what I’ve always wanted: Bernadette.”

  I mean, I knew how he felt. It was obvious, even if Callum Park is subtle and sometimes strange. I take another gulp of my wine.

  “Come on, teetotaler,” Hael urges, shaking another full bottle of wine at Oscar. “You never smoke and drink with us. It’s annoying as shit. Have some fun for once. We’re on a honeymoon here and even if Vic is the only asshole in this room getting pussy, we can still party.”

  Oscar ignores him, but at least he isn’t gazing at his iPad with undying love. He’s just sitting there in his perfect suit, legs crossed, hands wrapped around his knee. He tilts his head just enough to look at Hael.

  “Why don’t you party, since that’s what you’re good at? I’ll sit here with a clear head and make sure you don’t fuck something as dangerous as Brittany Burr.” Oscar’s jab cuts right through the heart, but even though Hael’s face flickers with annoyance, he ends up howling with laughter.

  “Brittany fuckin’ Burr,” he crows, downing half the wine in one go. Victor and Aaron each take up a bottle, but even though they’re trying, it’d be impossible to miss the rivalry brewing between them. “What are we gonna do about her, huh? We’ve only ever had someone break the rules of their price once before.” Hael pauses for a moment, and the glee on his face dissipates briefly. Sometimes I wonder if he loved Brittany, if only for a minute. The thought fills me with a jealous rage that I wash away with another swig of wine. “I wonder if she sent Daddy Dearest after us, or if he just flipped his shit and went rogue.”

  “Irrelevant,” Oscar corrects, still sitting there, an annoying statue with a pretty face and demon hands inked onto his throat. His hair is growing out, and shockingly enough, it isn’t the raven-black color that it appears. He has … blond roots? What the actual fuck? They’re barely showing at all, but the way he’s sitting, in front of all those big windows, the light shows me very clearly where his hair dye ends, and his real hair begins. Huh. “Her job was to sic her father’s anti-gang squad on the Charter Crew. She failed to divert his attention. I will calculate her risks.”

  “We aren’t killing a pregnant girl,�
�� Hael snaps, voice like a violent whiplash. I actually have to do a double-take to make sure he’s the one actually talking. His mouth is twisted into a deep frown, his pretty almond-honey eyes dark and dangerous. “Because he murdered a pregnant prostitute.” Victor’s words about Hael’s dad pop into my head as I sip my wine, wondering if that has something to do with his visceral reaction. “You never told her she couldn’t send the VGTF after us. Maybe be more specific next time? She could still send that bald-headed prick of a dad after the Charter Crew.”

  “Stop romanticizing things that don’t need romanticizing,” Oscar says back, his voice as smooth as a shark fin slicing through a quiet sea. It’s coming for you, no doubt, but you won’t hear or feel a splash until you’re bleeding. “And don’t you dare criticize me. Victor said—as per my request—that Brittany was to redirect her father’s attention away from Havoc and over to the Charter Crew. What do you think the word redirect means, you moron? Shall I look it up for you?”

  Hael’s jaw clenches tight, and he takes a step forward, like he might actually start shit with Oscar. Do the other guys see how hard Hael Harbin works to hold himself back? They poke and prod him like he’s got unlimited patience coiled inside his chest. In reality, he’s just barely keeping himself from striking out.

  “Alright, Oscar, you’ve been a monumental prick since you blew your load and left Bernie to clean up the mess.” Vic gestures at him with his wine bottle. “Knock that shit off. We have too much going on to start fighting with each other.”

  I wish I could describe the expression on Oscar’s face without using words like death, gravestones, sharp-beaked crows, and skulls with empty eye sockets. But … I can’t.