Ember

by Rachel Van Dyken

I pushed down the rejection and pasted a smile on my face as I joined everyone and sat down.

  “Nope.” Sergio pointed at his Rolex. “You’re going to be late for your first class if you don’t leave now.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said tersely, taking a bite out of the dry toast in front of me and reaching for the OJ.

  Sergio didn’t smile.

  Not that I expected him to. He was a lot like Phoenix in that way. They needed a bit of fun in their lives. Good thing I was an expert at entertaining myself; otherwise, I’d probably go insane living with them.

  “He’s right.” Phoenix stood and nodded to Ax. “And thanks for the information. I’ll keep a lookout.”

  “Study hard.” Sergio coughed into his hand and smirked in Phoenix’s direction.

  “Laugh it up, jackass.” Phoenix muttered then tucked a pistol into the back of his skinny jeans, pulling his shirt over the back of it.

  “Um…” I pointed. “What are you doing?”

  “Standing?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No way, really? I didn’t notice you had two legs poking out of that delish body of yours.”

  Wow, not even a blush, not a hint of a smirk, just a cold hard stare. Two could play that game.

  “How am I supposed to make friends if you shoot them all?” I crossed my arms.

  “Girl has a point,” Ax said quietly.

  Phoenix moved around the table and grabbed my arm. “We’re going to be late, no arguing. I bring the gun, I keep you safe, you make friends, I only shoot them if they do something that pisses me off.”

  “What? Breathe?”

  “Sure.” Phoenix nodded. “If they breathe funny, consider them dead. Careful who you choose, little girl.”

  I hated him all over again. Hated that it was so easy for him to go from cozy little lasagna moment into cold-blooded killer with the need to distance himself from me in any way possible. Then again, he was touching me. As if on cue, though, he released my arm and wiped his hand on his pants — like I was diseased — and opened the back door leading into the garage.

  I moved to get into my car but was stopped by Phoenix’s hands again.

  “What?” I snapped, turning around in his arms. “What could I have possibly done already that has your panties in a bunch?”

  He scowled, his blue eyes cold as ice. “No chance in hell are you driving.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it isn’t…” He looked around, his eyes darting from me to the car. “…safe.”

  “For me or for the pedestrians?”

  “For both.” Phoenix sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And does everything have to be an argument with you. Who has the gun, Bee?”

  “If I said both of us, would you strip search me?”

  Phoenix cursed. “No. I’d let Sergio do it. I know how much he enjoys that task.”

  “Someone’s grumpy this morning.”

  “Probably all that heavy food I ate last night.”

  “Blame the comfort food all you want… but you liked it.”

  “This isn’t about lasagna. This is about you irritating the hell out of me for your own entertainment. Now, I’m asking nicely, please, get in the car, my car, and I’ll drive you to school, where I promise not to point my gun at anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

  I snorted. “That was you asking nicely?”

  “Yup.” He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “Now what will it be?”

  “Like I have a choice,” I muttered and brushed past him, attempting to throw him off balance, but it was like a mouse running into a cliff headfirst. It hurt the mouse and made the cliff laugh its ass off.

  “About damn time.” Phoenix unlocked the doors to his shiny black Mercedes.

  I had a really desperate need to scratch my door handle or at least sneeze on the upholstery, but it probably still wouldn’t get a reaction from him. I was learning that even the negative reactions were something I craved, because at least it was something. How dysfunctional could I be?

  Once we were on the road, Phoenix chose the correct music for our drive. I say correct because, according to him, one didn’t start the day listening to hip-hop or anything remotely fun. No. Mr. Rogers had me listening to classical music.

  Classical.

  Mozart, to be exact.

  Not that I wasn’t a fan of the arts, but really? It just seemed so against what you would expect from him. He was the bad boy personified; like, if you put his name in the dictionary, right next to it would be “And mothers warned their daughters to stay away, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and that heart wants that body… bad.”

  He was all lean muscle and tight abs.

  And I could have sworn he had a dimple, but I’d never actually seen it. Phoenix’s dimple was like Bigfoot; I’d seen glimpses in pictures and via rumors, but I had never actually seen it for myself.

  One day.

  One day I’d catch it and take a mental picture or five. Maybe ten. Needless to say, I knew that if I had one of his smiles, it would be a magical thing.

  His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard I had a brief moment of panic thinking he was actually going to rip the thing from the dash and have a breakdown. Sad part? I half-expected it. He wasn’t acting normal… well, he was always moody, but this morning he seemed downright suicidal.

  “So…” I tried to zone out the instruments assaulting my sanity. “You went to Eagle Elite, right?”

  He was quiet for a minute then gave a swift nod.

  “Wow, don’t talk so fast. I almost didn’t get all that.”

  And crickets. Again.

  I cleared my throat. “You graduate?”

  “Sort of.”

  “How do you sort of graduate?”

  “Did you bring lunch money?” He asked in a tight voice.

  I gaped. “Did you just ask me if I brought lunch money?”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re driving me to school, forcing Mozart on my poor sensitive morning ears, and just asked me if I had money for milk.”

  “I’m concerned about you eating. Sue me.”

  “Pretty sure the Nicolasi boss can afford to spare me a few dollars for a sandwich and a can of pop.”

  “No pop.”

  “Who died and made you my grandpa? Seriously. I want to know so I can steal your gun and point it at them.”

  “Nobody touches my gun.”

  “Which one?” I smirked, hoping he’d find the humor in my sexual innuendo, but who was I kidding? It was Phoenix. He simply grunted, rolled his eyes, and kept driving.

  In a moment of pure rebellion, I undid the first two buttons of my white, collared shirt.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice calm, his eyes still on the road.

  “Wow, you really are like a parent. You can see me even when you aren’t looking.”

  “Button that shit to your chin before I pull this car over.”

  “Put on Jay-Z, and we’ll talk.”

  More cursing.

  I undid another button.

  “Son of a bitch, you’re annoying.”

  “Is this our first lovers’ spat?”

  “Were there drugs in your toast?” He finally glanced at me, his blue eyes chilling me to the bone. “Be serious. I don’t want to get called into the dean’s office because you’re high.”

  “Do I look like I’m on drugs?”

  “Is this a trick question?”

  Phoenix turned the steering wheel, and suddenly we were in front of a large wrought-iron gate.

  “It’s prison.” I breathed.

  Phoenix swallowed, his eyes slowly gazing up at the giant gate as we were buzzed in. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Why are you shaking?”

  His right knee looked like something out of Addicts Anonymous, while his fingers clenched around the steering wheel like he had a sudden fear of driving down long driveways lined with trees.

 
; “Not shaking. Are you on drugs?”

  “Okay, restless legs.” I held up my hands in surrender. “And no, I’m not on drugs, but your concern is noted.”

  Apparently, that was the end of our conversation. The next five minutes were spent with me staring between Phoenix’s out-of-control right leg and out the window at the huge campus. Trees grew everywhere, scattered about the grounds like cosmic litter. And between the trees sprawled beautiful old brick buildings that looked like something out of a movie.

  When the car pulled to a stop in front of a large three-story building with a giant sign that read WELCOME FRESHMEN, I almost puked. My hands clasped together, rubbing the clamminess away, I managed a confident smile when really I wanted to beg Phoenix to turn the car around and let me hide under the covers.

  I’d never been to a school.

  Ever.

  Heck, I’d never actually been in public. Forget making friends. How was I going to survive in a crowd?

  “Nervous?” Phoenix asked, turning the car off.

  “Of course not” I squared my shoulders and lifted my trembling chin as I brazenly compounded that lie with another. “I have you… my only friend… with me.”

  “Right now your security guard.” He sighed. “Not your friend, so don’t go assuming I’m going to paint your nails and carry your books.”

  “But what if my books are heavy?”

  “I’ll get you a wagon.”

  “Charmer.”

  “I try.” He opened the car door, and I could have sworn I heard him mumble, “Shit, I hate this place.”

  Just as I got out of the car, another two cars pulled up, like something out of an actual mafia movie.

  Black cars.

  Tinted windows.

  And the crowds around us grew.

  Even more nervous than before, I ran around the car and reached for Phoenix’s hand. He was probably too shocked to jerk away like he normally did, because he clenched it tightly within his. Reassurance washed over me. I was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Flashbacks while walking across campus? Sign me up!

  Phoenix

  BEE SERIOUSLY MADE ME rethink my decision to stop drinking alcohol, which really wasn’t a mark in favor of our new friendship, considering I had to be with her twenty-four-seven. I was going to have to either work out harder, hide a freaking flask in my pocket, or just shoot things when I got home every night.

  God help us all if she asked me to help her with homework.

  I cringed when her hand touched mine. Not because I was such an ass that she repulsed me — the opposite actually. I had to stay numb to her, unwavering. The way I saw it, if I continued to stay cold, she would eventually find someone to keep her warm. Girls like Bee couldn’t help but attract people — attract guys. But the thought of guys approaching her really did have me itching to shoot things or drink, and — look at that — full circle, back to alcoholism.

  I wasn’t sure how we had timed it so perfect, but Nixon, Chase, and Tex, the other bosses — bad asses in their own rights — had chosen that exact moment to pull up to the school.

  Meaning camera phones everywhere were freezing.

  Years ago, The Elect, the four of us, had started Eagle Elite, thinking we were untouchable; there were rumors amongst the students about what we did, about who we were, but we always laughed it off.

  Nobody was laughing now.

  Because that was another lifetime ago, when we had still been kids playing with guns. Our reality was forced upon us so damn quick we didn’t even have time to catch a breath or transition. We all went from made men to bosses within the span of eighteen months.

  The minute Nixon Abandonato stepped out of his car… I knew it. I wasn’t even looking in his direction, and I knew.

  Mouths gaped.

  Camera phones were raised.

  Girls were fanning themselves.

  And Bee’s hand clenched mine tighter.

  I glanced at the Range Rover just as Chase emerged, earning a girlish squeal from the crowd, and then finally Tex, the Cappo — aka MVP — of the families emerged in his aviators. A gun straight up, strapped inside a leather jacket for all to see. It was hard to miss.

  Shit… things just got real.

  The squealing stopped.

  Talk about an entrance.

  It didn’t matter if people were trying to upload to YouTube, or if they were posting to Facebook. The security at Elite was controlled by us, because Nixon still owned the freaking school, so yeah… we weren’t worried about making CNN, but still, they could have at least tried to fly under the radar.

  I didn’t envy Sergio one bit; he was probably having a hell of a time shutting down all social media around the campus Ethernet.

  Besides, what could the pictures prove? Some rich guys getting out of nice cars? One has a gun but has a license to carry it? He could be a federal agent for all they knew — but the students weren’t stupid. Stories of the Elect escapades still ran rampant throughout campus, even though all of us were long gone.

  My stomach clenched as my gaze fell on my friends, the three guys that a few years ago, would have taken a bullet for me. I’d hidden everything from them, the sickness of my mind, and the torture from my father. Returning to Elite was a shit idea, but I had no choice.

  The girls, or wives as I liked to call them, all filed out of the car. First Mo, Nixon’s sister and Tex’s wife, her long dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. She waved at me. I didn’t wave back. Didn’t feel the need to release Bee’s hand, and my other arm was busy twitching with the insane need to grab her other. Right, so I was preoccupied.

  Trace followed Mo and launched herself into Nixon’s arms. I fought a smile. Ever since our little training session, things hadn’t been as strained between us. I could almost view her as a friend instead of a victim. But sometimes at night, her face still came to me as a nightmare, and for that reason alone, I kept a healthy amount of space between us.

  Mil, my stepsister, performed an elaborate fake gag as she followed Trace and then kissed Chase so aggressively I almost reached for my gun. I kept forgetting they were married, and I still had a hard time when he mauled her in front of me. As usual, his eyes found mine after he kissed her, and a mocking grin spread across his face.

  All in all, a great start to the day. Super great shitty start.

  Nixon walked slowly toward me. Hands in pockets, check. Aviators, check. Large gun bulging from the holster against his back, check. Pissed off look, check. Damn. It.

  “You guys good?” he asked, directing the question more to Bee than myself.

  She nodded and moved closer to me, just as Tex approached, his eyes focused in on our clenched hands. When I tried to pull mine away, Bee stomped on my foot. I winced and looked heavenward while Tex choked on his laughter.

  “We’re awesome!” Bee said a bit too forced, if you asked me. “And Phoenix taught me all about how to make friends last night, so I’m good to go!”

  “He did?” Nixon asked dryly. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope!” Bee just kept on talking even when I communicated with her via telepathy to shut the hell up.

  Tex shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head in what I could only assume was amusement at my expense. “And what great wisdom did Phoenix impose on you, little sis?”

  “Well…” Her grin was evil.

  Please God, let the drugs or whatever mood she’d woken up in be out of her system. Mute. Let her be mute. Amen.

  “When I want to get a guy’s attention, all I have to do is smile and wave.”

  I drew a cautious breath. So far, so good.

  “And if that doesn’t work, I unbutton a few buttons and wink!”

  Tex growled. Out loud. Like a dog. His cold gaze flickered from the blouse to me, the threat evident in his icy, dark blue eyes.

  “Oh, and he also said that if someone offers me a drink, I should always take it and
drink the whole thing so I don’t offend them.”

  I closed my eyes, willing an asteroid to hit the earth.

  “He also said a lot of stuff about shaking my ass and jumping on tables, but I kind of tuned out after he turned on the stripper music. I mean, I think we were both pretty distracted by that point, hmm, Phoenix?”

  I opened one eye then the other.

  Tex looked ready to rip my body in half… at least three times for good measure, and Nixon looked like he was only too willing to help just in case Tex had a problem pulling my skin from my bones.

  “And when that didn’t work…” Bee huffed. “…he said to look up Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.”

  Both Tex and Nixon burst out laughing.

  I didn’t.

  I’d been serious! In my opinion, there was nothing better than watching Daniel the Tiger tell a little kid how to make a friend and not be shy. But whatever; her loss. That shit had gotten me through elementary school when I was too small to beat anyone up… when I was too small to defend myself against my dad’s wrath.

  Bee finally dropped my hand. “I’ll be fine, brother. You worry too much. And Nixon, stop frowning. You look possessed.”

  “He is.” Tex coughed the words into his hand.

  “Hilarious.” Nixon elbowed him. “You sure you’re going to be okay? I know things haven’t been easy.”

  “I have Phoenix,” Bee said simply, making me feel about two feet tall because I wasn’t prideful enough to think that would be enough to get her through. I would never be enough.

  The guys fell silent for a minute.

  Bee challenged them all with a look, sticking up for me and making me feel like I’d been castrated all at the same time.

  “You’re right,” Nixon said finally, nodding. “Just keep him close.”

  I could have really done without that last part.

  Closeness wasn’t going to help the situation. Distance. That was what I needed.

  “And call us…” Tex added. “…if anything happens, like you get scared or… something.” He shifted on his feet awkwardly.

  Bee slapped him on the shoulder. “I promise that if the big bad bullies chase me down the hall and call me stupid, I’ll text you to pick me up, but Phoenix brought his gun, so I think we’re good.”