by Devney Perry
It’s not what I expect, and my eyes close as the soft melody of the piano taps through my eardrums. I sway from side to side at the haunting melody, allowing the music to seep into my pores and take the reins of my body. Possess me. The notes continue as I float around the room, my eyes closed. I reach one hand out in an eagle float, and my fingertips touch Rose’s gently. My eyes blaze open onto her as I twirl into her body. The music drops and a light electric guitar starts playing. I pulse my body softly until I’m on my knees in front of her, rolling onto my back and arching off the floor, my hands pressed behind my head, bringing myself up into bridge position. The song changes to “Lovely” By Billie Eilish, and my eyes connect with Kingston from upside down. He keeps me anchored to the spot, his palm covering the bottom of his mouth. I push up from the ground and lose myself in the song, never looking away from Kingston. I don’t know where Rose is, and I can’t find it in myself to care. The music has taken over, and my blood is pulsing to the rhythm. It’s hypnotic and poisonous, but I want to swallow it all and then feed it to King. When the chorus kicks in, I snake my hips while my hands come beneath my shirt; I slowly remove it from above my head, so I’m standing in nothing but a sports bra and my sweatpants. Kingston kicks someone beside him, his eyes remaining on mine. It’s just him and me as the energy we both exude sucks everyone into a dark vortex. It could almost be intimate, if he didn’t want to kill me. Intimacy is just like murder; they both make your heart race and your palms sweat while leaving your thoughts in disarray, but then when you’re done, you’re left with the remnants of someone else’s soul or blood on your hands. When the song comes to a close, he removes his hand, and instead of finding an expression I thought he was giving me, he’s scowling.
He pushes up from his seat and storms out of the tent.
The music cuts, and I freeze, that vortex we sucked everyone into now cracked open. I didn’t realize Delila had stood up until she says, “Wow.” She’s almost directly in front of me, her head tilted.
I step back, searching for Rose. “Where’s Rose?”
Delila waves me off. “Don’t worry about her. She’s going to a more suited position.” Delila grabs my arm and yanks me toward the exit. The very same exit that Kingston left through.
“Suited position?” I ask, confused. “She’s a dancer.”
Delila laughs. “You are a dancer and an artist, my love.”
I yank my arm out of her grip.
She sighs, turning to face me. I feel like a sour child, but Rose is my friend. “Look, she’s going to work with a couple of the other girls—all right? She is fated to be there. You, Dovey, you are something else. You captivate the room by using your body. It’s art. We haven’t seen that in—well…” I don’t miss the pause. “…in quite some time.”
She starts tugging me along again, and this time, I let her, seemingly satisfied with my answer about Rose. “Okay. Will I see her a lot?”
“Yes, yes.” She waves me off. “Now, I know just where to put you…” She’s muttering to herself, and I can’t care enough to ask her what she’s saying, so I go with it. She stops outside of a large RV. It’s pure black with black windows and wheels and looks more expensive than the average style home. There are a few cars parked outside of it. A red Ferrari, a black Aston Martin and a Ford Raptor. I tilt my head at the emblem that stretches out over the side of the RV. It’s faded to a soft grey, but I can see the same seven-point triangle with the number IV in the middle. There’s wording in the lines, but I can’t make out what it says.
Delila bangs on the door. “Open up, King!”
I freeze, yanking my arm away from her once again. “What?”
Delila ignores me, banging again. “—you know it’s right.”
“Um, what’s right?” I ask frantically.
The door slams open, and King is standing at the threshold with a cigarette hanging from his soft lips, his hair messy and his chest on full display. My mouth dries as I catch the same triangle that’s on the RV tattooed over his thick chest, with another tattoo near his hip. Calvin Klein briefs sneak out of his jeans—that are un-fucking-buttoned—with perfect cut lines tucking below.
He blows out a cloud of smoke, his dark eyes on mine. “What?” he answers her, but never removes his eyes from me. If he caught me staring, he didn’t mention it. Which I appreciate. I can admire that he looks like a fucking god, but that doesn’t make me one of his disciples.
He’s trapped me with his gaze again, and I can’t break free.
“You saw what we all saw. You know.” Delila softens her tone.
King finally looks down to her, blowing smoke rings out from between his lips. They hit her square in the face. “Yeah, so?”
“Well,” Delila reaches back for my arm, “she can stay with you, too, and be your fifth, then we just need Kyrin to find his fifth.”
There’s a long pause. Infinite. I can’t even see the ending of this pause that’s how long it is, and then Kingston laughs, his head tilting back. I watch as his throat bobs and the veins in his neck flex with the movement. Why is that sexy? You are not a disciple. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening. Good one.” The door begins to close on Delila, but her hand flies out to stop it.
“I wasn’t joking, King. She’s your fifth.” When King doesn’t answer, Delila takes the first step up, blocking the door from closing a second time. “You saw her dance. You know. Don’t try to deny it.”
Kingston leans to the side, his abs clenching at the movement. I try to ignore the tattoo on his left peck, but it’s difficult, considering it’s the same shape as the one on the RV. I want to study it as hard as he studies me. “Nope. I mean, she’s good, but not that good, and I don’t give a fuck what I know.” His tone is laced with acid dripping from his sharp teeth. He carries on his insult. “And we don’t let hoes into our routine.”
Delila’s eyes slant. “You let them into your RV.”
Kingston grins. “We aren’t talking about my cock, Delila.” His smirk darkens as he takes a final suck on his cigarette before exhaling. “But if we are, she can’t get on that either.”
I snort, shaking my head. I probably shouldn’t have, and I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but the feminist in me is choking on my rage, and well, she’s a powerful bitch.
I tilt my head. “Right, of course, you think because I’m a stripper that I open my legs to every man that shoves a hundred-dollar bill beneath my panties.”
“Well, don’t you?” he retorts, and his quick wit makes my eyes snap to his. He’s baiting me, his smug face proof of that.
“Open my legs?” I ask, and I’m well aware that this is probably the most words I’ve spoken to anyone in one whole sentence, at least in a very long time, but what can I say? He’s a siren to my voice box. “Of course, I do. But in the fashion that you’re implying? No.” I want to say unfortunately.
He rolls his eyes, glaring straight at Delila. “Not happening.”
“King…”
“What makes you think she can handle the cage?” he asks.
Delila leans forward and whispers something into his ear. Kingston freezes, and then all humor on his face is gone as he brings his eyes back to mine. “Fine.” He leans backward and whistles to someone inside the RV.
Delila steps backward, rolling her eyes. “Sorry you have to see this.”
“See what?” I ask, just as movement catches my eye and a half-naked girl struts down the stairs, shoving a bra over her head. I quickly look away, mainly because she’s had her tits out, and she’s not getting paid for it.
Kingston takes a seat on the step and shoves some combat boots over his feet. “Well, come on then, Little Bird, let’s see if you can fly.”
Dove
It’s different this time. Lights are out, and it’s darker, the sun long since burning to ash. All I hear is my breathing, the heavy exhales and inhales from my chest. I run my palm over my legs in an attempt to swipe the sweat, but that’s all just an inner ploy to d
istract myself from the fact that I’m standing in the middle of a makeshift stage, in the pitch black night, with no idea on what is about to happen to me next.
I close my eyes and lick my lips, focused on my breathing. If they wanted to kill you, Dove, you’d be dead. Chill.
The first thing I feel is the sand beneath my shoes vibrate. The first thing I hear is the clinking of metal, and the first thing I think to myself is…what the fuck have I gotten myself into?
“Breathe, Little Bird,” a voice whispers over the nape of my neck, sending chills down my spine. Something covers my eyes and is being tied to the back of my head. “We’re not going to hurt you—much.” That was a different voice, and I turn in an attempt to chase the owner, but I’m met with darkness everywhere. I can see a spotlight through the blindfold, but it’s not clear enough to make out who is around me.
Fingers drag up my arm, setting off goosebumps.
I flinch away.
Someone chuckles, only this chuckle I recognize. “What’s the matter, Little Dovey…” Kingston starts, and then he leans forward, his lips skating over the back of my ear. “Don’t like shadows much?”
I still, my blood turning cold. “What?” I whisper, reaching for the blindfold, but someone halts my movements by forcing my arms to my back. Cold metal from the handcuffs latch around each wrist. “What did you just say?”
He ignores me, and I’m being pushed down to my knees. Did he just say The Shadow, or did I imagine it? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve imagined myself into thinking The Shadow is present or has whispered something into my ear. It usually comes during a nightmare, but I’m almost certain Kingston just said what I think he did. Regardless, he’s obviously meaning the shadows that I see through the blindfold. My paranoia will kill me one day.
“Stop!” Delila yells out from somewhere. “I didn’t say perform one of your acts on her. I said incorporate her into the act.”
“First of all—” I think that’s Killian. “How are we supposed to incorporate her into it without showing her what it is that we do, D?”
Silence.
“Because we can save that for her first night. We don’t give swimming lessons; we throw people into the deep end and hope they can swim.”
I pull on the cuffs. “Can someone take the blindfold off?”
“No,” Kingston growls out. Goosebumps stand to the surface of my skin.
“Well, can you remove the handcuffs? I need my arms to dance.”
My wrists are set free as quick as they were locked.
“You’re right,” Delila finishes, and just like that, the blindfold is torn off my eyes. “We can’t have her in there without knowing what to expect.” She eyes me up and down, and I squirm. I don’t like Delila, nor do I trust her. “We will wait until we’re on the road. For now,” she says to me, a smirk on her mouth, “make yourself at home. Get to know people without getting to know them too well, and for the love of God, Dove—” Her fingers wrap around my chin, directing my face up to hers. “Don’t get yourself killed.” She pats my cheek and smiles sweetly before stepping back and looking out to the audience of performers. “We leave tomorrow night. First stop is here, New York.” She starts walking away when she grumbles, “Hopefully, we can find another Beatrice while we’re at it.”
When Delila is out of earshot, I turn to face Kingston and the other four. “Want to explain to me what it is that you do so that I can at least get a feel for it?”
“No,” Keaton says, turning to leave behind Delila.
King
“She can’t be your fifth. That’s too close.” Keaton kicks out his legs, lighting up a cigarette. My finger continues to caress my upper lip as I watch all three of them. I see where they’re coming from, but at the same time, it makes my task easier.
“He’s right. She can’t. I mean, she’s good, but you haven’t had a fifth. Ever.” Kyrin argues.
“What the fuck? How can none of you see what I see? Y’all need some glasses or have something to tell me? That girl dominates the room when she dances. You’re telling me that that’s not his fifth?” Killian, being himself, is fighting for the girl. Good for her. She’ll need all the fans that she can get, but that still doesn’t argue the fact that I’m going to destroy her.
I clench my jaw. Their bickering is balancing on my last nerve, and I know it’s my last because I used up all the rest of them when Dove walked up in here.
Once.
Twice.
“And have you ever seen someone as fucking hot as her? The doe eyes and dark red hair. I’m fucking digging it. It’s the same color as my Ferrari.” Killian still won’t shut the fuck up, and he’s managed to now introduce his pride and joy.
“Enough,” I growl, glaring at Killian. The fact that he’s the first one to have his balls in the palm of his hands over this chick isn’t surprising. “I don’t want her in my space any more than any of you, only for obviously different reasons.”
Keaton shakes his head, his fingers diving into his thick mane. “Why didn’t Delila put her in Midnight? They could do with another.”
“Because Midnight has Rose, and Dove is too advanced for them,” I answer fluidly, needing either a joint or a glass of something strong to take the edge off.
I kick off my bed and make my way to the front of the RV where Justice is sitting in the driver’s seat. “Why are you on the chair already? We don’t leave until tomorrow.” Justice is our driver, and when we’re on the road, he bunks with us. Our RV is the biggest one out of the Mayhem family, so he fits into our dynamic easily. He’s older than the rest of us, hovering in his late thirties. There have been rumors going around about him and Delila for years, but he denies it all. I’m not a dumb motherfucker, though. I can smell the pussy on him some nights when he rolls into bed.
We have four bedrooms in here with a small fifth should we need it. And by fifth, I mean it’s the room at the very back of the RV with nothing but a bed inside and a curtain to keep it separated from the rest of the RV—which is where Justice sleeps.
“Didn’t you hear?” Justice teases boldly.
“Why the fuck are you smirking?” I narrow my eyes at him. Just as he opens his mouth, there’s a loud knock on the door.
I’m still glaring at him as I back up and pull it open. “What?” I snap, finally dragging my venomous glare away from Justice and to— “What the fuck do you want now?”
Dove flinches. If I were a better man, I would feel a little guilty about it, but I’m not. I’m not even in the vicinity of a better man, and aside from that, why does she always look so broken? You fucking know why.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, licking her lips. “Ah… I have to—” Her voice drifts into the background as I take in what’s in her hands. A small suitcase.
Justice chuckles from behind me, squeezing my shoulder. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
I watch as Justice disappears into the distance with his bags before I bring my eyes back to Dove. “You’re fucking kidding me.” I slam the door wide open and step aside to let her in.
She takes the steps up, and when her feet land on the final one, I tower over her and lean into her ear as she passes. “Well, well, well, look who’s going to be sleeping with monsters.”
She pulls away from me just as Killian walks his overconfident ass down the stairs that lead to our rooms and bathrooms. “Hey!” He smiles at her, his arrogant face lighting up when he spots her.
She ignores him, turning to me. If I gave a fuck, I’d be a smug bastard over that, but I don’t. My fucks are with my last nerves.
I point to the back of the RV. “Your room is down at the end. Bathroom is to the right, and the kitchen is to the left. Seating is here, and there’s a bar, but that’s upstairs—where you are not welcome.”
She nods. “Sure.” Then she turns her back on me and makes her way to the back. I tilt my head, watching her ass sway as she walks, then I notice the fucking iPhone she has shoved into the back pocket
of her jeans. Fucking Delila. She obviously feels a certain way about Dove. That much I picked up. Delila doesn’t feel a way about anyone unless it’s hate.
Once Dove is out of earshot, Killian turns to me. “Try not to be too much of an asshole. Remember all the shit we put her through on The Cannon.”
“Be good for you to remember your fucking place before you start barking orders at me, Kill. I’m not in the mood for your dick tricks.” I shove past him and head straight for the door. I need to fucking talk to Delila and see what the fuck it is she’s thinking.
I make my way to Midnight’s RV—almost as big as ours, just with more glitter. I’m almost certain she was heading here after dropping her bomb.
I yank open the door and step inside, instantly engulfed in the rich scent of strong ass perfumes. Think I’d be used to this shit by now, but I’m fucking not.
“King! Hey!” Val purrs, pushing off the white sofa and taking the next few steps toward me.
I whack her hand out of the way. “Where’s Delila? She in here?”
“Nope!” Maya murmurs from the daybed. My eyes drop down her body. Loose boyfriend jeans and a sports bra, earbuds hanging from her ears. “She left about five minutes ago. Why, what’s up?”
“Nothing,” I snap, turning to leave.
“King?” Val reaches for my arm.
I pull it away. “What, Valdis?” She hates her full name, but it fucking suits her. Goddess of Death—she was named appropriately.
“Never mind,” she mutters, sulking. I slam the door once I’m back out in the open. She should know better than to try any bullshit with me. I care about very little, and I like it that way. Usually we would be all in our houses, but because we have an early departure in the morning, we’re already in our RVs. All of us have homes built here, in our suburb, but we also own houses in other places. Aspen, LA, Australia, Rome. We always have a place to go when and if we ever need it.
I go straight for Delila’s RV, bypassing everyone else’s. Pure white crystal chandeliers hanging from her roof—all of that type of shit. Swinging her door open without knocking, I catch her mid-walk, a silk robe on with white and pink lace panties and bra. She leans back on the counter, her robe spreading open wider while tilting her head. “What have I done now?”
