by Devney Perry
“Trouble,” Killian teases, and instantly Maya’s face drops. “Leave Dove alone. You know how King likes his toys untarnished.”
I laugh this time, flipping onto my back and relishing in the sun. “Well, then he better find a new toy, because I’m definitely a shade darker than tarnished.” I wiggle my fingers toward myself without even looking at Maya, gesturing to the joint. I want to say that it’s partly because of what happened in the cell, but I don’t. I don’t want them to know anything about what happened, because that’ll probably just give them more satisfaction to my pain. My chest tightens with that knowledge. My crush on Kingston Axton is poison, but apparently, I’m willing to die for it.
I feel the smoke between my fingers and bring it to my lips, inhaling deeply. I hold it in my lungs for a beat longer before blowing out. Once I give it back to Maya, Rose has finally stopped fighting with Mischa about the music before a song starts playing. One I don’t recognize.
“I’m serious, Dovey,” Rose whispers. She’s on her stomach now, her head resting in her arms and her face toward me.
I exhale, turning onto my stomach and turning my face to hers. No one can hear us because the music is loud, and we’re so close we don’t have to yell. “Why?”
“Me being here?” she whispers. “It was part of their initiation. Everything that Delila had explained—was why I was here.”
“Okay.” I search her eyes. “And me?” The heat is not helping my buzz. In fact, it’s intensifying it. A lot.
“You were not a normal recruit, Dove. That’s why you were there for so long. Why you’re with them and not on your own or with another family.”
“And what is it that I should be worried about?” My heart pounds in my chest. I’m not naïve. I know there’s something else. It’s why King likes to tell me that I’ve done something to warrant his wrath. It’s why he apparently hates me and that I took something from him.
“Do not fall for King—”
“Am I interrupting something here?” Val drops down in front of us, the sand kicking up and flicking me in the face. I actually want to kill her.
I sit up, shading the sun from my eyes. I’m feeling a range of emotions, but one that trumps them all is the lack of control that I have. I’ve lost my life to four men, and they haven’t even killed me yet.
I groan, standing, and make my way back to the water. King and the rest of The Brothers are up by the truck, but Jack is still in the water with the people he came with.
“So…” he starts, his head bobbing in the water.
“Nope.” I laugh, shaking my head while sinking in. “If you’re going to ask me about King, the answer is no.”
Jack laughs, which makes me want to laugh. I realize I genuinely enjoy his presence. I’ve known him for all of twenty minutes, but I feel at ease around him. Like I know him or have met him before. I know that I haven’t, though. I’d remember his face. I haven’t met such kindness since Richard.
“I’ve known King for a while, and I’ve never seen him like that before,” Jack further says, swimming closer to me.
“Oh really,” I dig, kicking out to the deep. He follows closely behind me, while still keeping a safe distance. I appreciate that.
When I’m far enough out, I turn around, and he’s a few steps in front of me. My eyes go over his shoulder and to the truck, where the boys are now all watching us. “How well do you know him?”
Jack runs his hand through his hair. “Well, since I was nine. His family is close with my family. You know, that sort of thing.”
“Ah, right.” I don’t want to sound nosey, so I change the subject. “And what is your act or role in Midnight Mayhem?”
He pauses. “You mean aside from the final act?”
I tilt my head. “I don’t think I’ve fully experienced the final act.”
He chuckles. “No, you haven’t, and the way things are looking,” he turns his head over his shoulder, “you may never.”
“Can you tell me a bit about it all?”
He swipes his hair again. “Well, it’s for us as much as it’s for the audience.”
“It’s live sex.”
He laughs, his head tilting back. “Yes and no.”
I shake my head. “Is all the crazy crap that you guys do not enough?”
“It’s more of a reenactment. You’ll see tomorrow. Whether you’re involved wholly or partly like before, I’m sure you’ll see.”
“And who is all in the final act?”
He smirks. “Everyone.”
A whistle breaks through the air, interrupting our chat. King waves us to the shore.
I grumble, “We’ve been summoned.” We both start swimming back.
“Is he always moody?” I ask, just as my feet touch the sand again.
“Nah,” Jack says. “He usually has a coping mechanism.”
Before I can ask what that means, Jack is heading over to the other guys he came with, throwing a towel around his back. His friend slaps the back of his head, and Jack laughs, turning around to face me and sending me a wink.
These people are strange. Not the kind of strange that’s enticing either. They’re the kind of strange that you don’t want to be a part of, or even admire from a distance.
Maya is heading my way wearing a cap flipped backwards. “You got a death wish, Dovey?” I know what she’s implying. What with King right there.
“No. Just making friends.”
“Hey!” Maya calls out as I pass her. I turn around. “You should come drink with us tonight. We’re having a fire pit lit and all the rest. Since, you know, you haven’t yet, and you went drinking with Beat first…”
I smile. “Sure.”
“Dove!” King bellows from across the grass.
“Oh, girl.” Maya chuckles. “You’re in trouble.”
I turn around to face him and see the rest of the boys climbing into the truck. “Get in the truck!”
Rose tosses my towel at me, and I catch it, glaring at her. “I mean it, Dove. Be careful.”
“She’s not lying,” Val mutters, flipping onto her back.
I slowly make my way to the truck, and King climbs into the driver’s seat as I get into the passenger’s side. He slams his door before I’m putting my belt on and floors the truck forward.
“Really, Dove. You just had to poke the bear.”
“What?” I turn to face Killian, who shakes his head.
Figuring we’re all in one car, I turn to face Kingston, leaning my back against the door. “What did I do wrong?”
“What gave you the impression that you did anything wrong?” he answers, but his voice is detached. Distant.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you yelled at me from across the damn field.”
He laughs sarcastically. “Because I yelled at you?” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to pin me with a stare. “If that’s what has you shaken up, then you’re weaker than I thought.”
I grit my teeth and remain quiet the whole way home. I realize the longer I’m with them, the more comfortable I get to speak my mind. It’s like the longer I’m here, the more I forget everything that they have put me through to this point.
King opens the glove compartment and grabs out an envelope. He points to it. “That’s yours. Everything that’s inside is yours. Use it as you need.”
I open the envelope and a single black card drops onto my lap. “Why?”
“Because you’re one of us,” Keaton adds.
I flick the black card between my fingers, thinking of what to do.
“Press check account for your pay, or savings for the trust account. They’re linked.”
I want to fight it. I want to know why he’s flipped all of a sudden, and he’s not as mad at me as everyone thought back at the lake, but I leave it. Because I’ll choose my fights with King, and I don’t think this is one to exert energy on right now. At least for now.
We pull back into the compound, and I take a few seconds to cl
imb out of the truck. Everyone leaves, and it’s just Killian and I inside. I turn around to face him. “For some reason, I trust you.”
Killian freezes. “Well, don’t.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know.
“Because as much as I like you, Little Bird, The Brothers are my family. This family is deeper than your mind could even imagine. There are secrets and bonds and all kinds of crazy ass shit that you can never know. That’s why you shouldn’t trust me. Because if I was ordered to put a bullet between your eyes, I wouldn’t flinch when doing it. I may be nice to you, Little Bird, but don’t mistake it for loyalty. Someone like me, like them, we can never be happy with a girl because of it.” He climbs out of the truck, slamming the door in his retreat.
I remain seated. Frustrated and angry, and most of all, lost. I feel lost. Like I don’t know who I am anymore or even where I fit in. I’m not delusional enough to think that with The Brothers of Kiznitch is where I would fit in, but I thought I trusted Kill.
Pushing open the door, I drop to the ground just as Delila comes heading straight for me.
“Little Bird. Where have you been? Come, I have something I want to show you.”
I close the door and do as she says. Delila is probably a lot of things—judging by what Beat has said also—but as far as I stand, she’s not threatened my life yet, so that’s saying something.
I follow her to the tent and inside. She waves her hand toward the stage. “You will have your own act.”
My palms sweat, and I rub them down my thighs. “Dancing?”
She nods, her black bob bouncing with the movement. “Yes. I’ll leave it up to you. Different dances would be preferred, but it’s up to you. You get five minutes. You may use any of the props. There’s a pole there, too, if you need it.”
I tilt my head. “You do know that pole fitness is a sport, right? Not just for stripping.”
Delila exhales. “Yes, Dove, and I’m hoping that you use it. Practice some today, and we will have you ready for tomorrow night.” She disappears down one of the aisles. I’d be happy to actually have my own act. I know I’d have to still take part in at least King’s act, too, and the final one, but to have my own gives me a sense of individuality and makes me feel as though I have some sort of purpose here. Something that doesn’t involve The Brothers.
In record time, I run back to the RV to change. I pause when I find shopping bags lined out on my bed. I take a peek inside one and find they’re all filled with new clothes. Shrugging, I slip into some tight Nike shorts and a sports bra, throwing over a Valentino crop jersey. Grabbing some leg warmers, I quickly run my brush through my hair and make my way back to the tent. I don’t want to see any of The Brothers right now, and especially not King. One second he’s kissing me, and then the next, he’s yelling at me, and then he’s telling me he hates me and that I took something from him. There has been no bigger mind fuck than being on the receiving end of Kingston Axton’s attention. I’m not sure I want it.
I order a couple of the boys who are wandering around to bring the pole out to the center stage. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Val is stretching on a beam. Ignoring her, I focus on my practice.
“Val?” I yell, and she turns to face me, her golden hair looking every bit Serena van der Woodson. “Do you care if I put music on?”
Val rolls her eyes. “No, Little Bird, I don’t.”
Tim, I think Delila said his name is, points to my phone. “Hook your phone up to the Bluetooth system, and you’ll have free reign. The Brothers will be practicing in a couple hours, so it’s all yours until then.”
I smile. “Thank you.” Flicking through my playlist, I drop my phone onto the ground after leaving “Mother’s Daughter” by Miley Cyrus playing. I need to warm up and stretch, since I haven’t done much of that for a while. Bending over, I stretch out my hamstrings, before sliding to the ground and spreading my legs wide, leaning forward onto the ground and finishing in a front split. The music is warming me up as much as my stretches are. When I’m ready, I flick through my phone again. I know I want to have a different song for every town. Depending on my mood, I want to express it through my dance. I’ve always been good at channeling my emotions into my limbs. I’m feeling angry and reckless, and somewhat, warped. I push play on “Carousel” by Melanie Martinez and smirk. “So fitting.” When the beat kicks in, I grab ahold of the pole and swing around it. I’m lost for three minutes and fifty seconds. I hit repeat, deciding this will definitely be the song I’m dancing to tonight, and work on my routine.
King
“We need to talk about her.” Killian’s persistence to talk about Dove is wearing on my patience. He puts on a good front, he’s the best at it, but we all know that she is also wearing on his restraint.
“We don’t.”
“What are you doing, King? Kissing her and rubbing up on her like a dog in heat. Since when was that part of the plan?” Keaton questions, this time, his eyes trained on me. I shuffle off the couch, tearing my shirt off. “I get it. She’s hot as sin, but we knew that. You knew that.”
Flopping back down, I place a smoke in my mouth and light it up. “I’m playing with my food, so what?”
“King,” Killian warns. “Not a good idea. What happens when we have to do the delivery?”
I glare at him, bored. “What the fuck are you talking about, Chatty Kathy? I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
“Because you wanna get your dick wet all of a sudden?” Keaton argues. He wants my attention, and now he has it.
I get off the couch and make my way to where he’s leaning against the doorframe. “What are you afraid of, Keats? Scared that if we play some games with her that she’ll break?” I tilt my head and search his eyes. “Her finish line is rather fucking close, so why not?”
“She’s not what I was expecting.” Keaton’s shoulders are straight, his eyes lighting in defiance.
“What part of her? The part where she was always the pawn in our game to end a long-time beef?”
Keaton growls. “I don’t fucking know. She’s just not what I expected.”
I lick my lip and smirk. “Yeah, I could have an idea why that is.”
Keaton’s eyes narrow, his suspicion growing. “And why is that?”
I make my way back to the couch and drop down, blowing out a cloud of smoke. I have two options here: I can tell this idiot exactly what he needs to know. To put him out of his misery, or I can add it to my bag of tricks and save it for later.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, answering instantly. “Mother.”
“Kingston. I need an update.” I can already imagine what she’s doing. Sitting behind her long table, a smoke in one hand and a glass of vodka in the other.
I lean back. “Where are you?”
“Italy. I’ll be back in the US in a couple weeks. Tell Killian his father is calling a meeting too, which we will need you all to attend.”
I smirk. Into my bag of tricks it goes.
Dove
One of my earliest memories was of my mom dropping me off at my ballet class with tears strolling down her face. I never knew why she was crying. I would have been all of six, or maybe just turning seven. I can’t remember anything prior to this memory, and any time I would ask my mom about it, she would say that I suffered from PTSD as a small child and part of my condition was that I blocked out memories prior to that. I would counter what she said and say that usually people would at least have black spots. Or flashes of events that happened early, but I had nothing. Zilch. It was a strange feeling, not having any early memories. Not even some monumental thing that had happened. It’s something I have always thought about while not really thinking about it. Hovering in the back of my brain like a bad memory. I never did find out why she was crying that day. My mother never cried. Shedding such raw emotion is not in her nature. Was not in her nature, so seeing her cry moved me enough to make it stick in my brain. Even now, as I
make my way back to the RV, after practicing a solid two hours on my act, I’m here thinking about something that happened over a decade ago.
“Dove!” Maya calls out, just as I reach the RV.
I turn to face her. “Hey!”
She’s slightly out of breath, huffing and puffing. “Sorry. God, I hate exercise.”
“You hate exercise?” I giggle. “Your act?”
She waves me off, rolling her eyes. “I sing on a swing and let the boys drive their bikes through hula hoops. I don’t—no. I do not do what Midnight does. I’m not even in Midnight. I just stay with them because…” She shakes her head. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Hand me your phone!”
I give it to her and watch as she pushes buttons. “I’ve programmed my number into your phone and now I have yours. So, you can’t skip out on our drink tonight.” She hands it back to me.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
She tucks her unruly curly hair behind her ear. “Good. See you later!” And she’s off again, as quickly as she showed.
I make my way into the RV and head straight for my room. I need to put away all my new clothes and wash my laundry, but when I open the closet in my room, my dirty clothes that were in my basket have been washed and folded and are sitting inside of it tidily.
I step back outside of my room, looking around to see who is here, when a lady starts making her way down the stairs.
“Oh! You must be Miss Hendry. Your clean washing is folded and put away, and I’ve refurnished the cupboards and fridge.”
“Ah.” Obviously based on her very cliché maid attire, I know who and why she’s here, but I just didn’t know we had one.
“Sorry,” she apologizes, wiping her hands with the rag she has hanging out of her front pocket, and puts her hand out to me. “I’m Rhonda. The maid. Each RV has one, and I’m yours.”
“Nice to meet you, Rhonda.” My hand meets hers, and she squeezes it gently. “Have you been The Brothers maid for long?”
“Long enough,” Rhonda jokes. “Well, if you need anything, just text triple seven, and you’ll get my cell phone.” She makes her way through the kitchen again before leaving me in the RV alone, which is peaceful.
