by JA Huss
Fine. Lauren stops at the double doors which presumably leads to the back yard, and turns to smile at me. “She’s really going places, Katya. And I hope you and I can be friends. We’re the same age, right? We really need to go out and have drinks in the near future.”
“Sure,” I say, just to make her stop talking.
I get a smile for my acquiescence and she opens both doors in a dramatic reveal.
And the scene outside is absolutely drama. The yard, for one, is several lots long. There is a fence, but standing up here on the porch, I can see over it. And on the other side is a street.
But that’s not the only dramatic thing happening in the Antimony back yard. There are tents. Seven of them, all made of a light-colored canvas. There are more than a dozen servers walking around with trays filled with tall fluted glasses and tiny little finger sandwiches. One of the tents is filled with musicians who look like they are just about ready to start playing. Not a band, like you’d see at most college parties. But a string quartet all dressed up in black and white. And the people. There has to be more than a hundred people here.
I let out a breath.
“It’s something, right?” Lauren says with a wide smile.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to take it all in. “It sure is something.”
“Oh, there’s Lily now. Come on, let’s go join the party, Katya.”
I follow Lauren into the crowd. People part for us—her, I should say. Her minions playing up her role of benevolent queen to perfection. Everyone is dressed in fine clothing and I’m suddenly self-conscious about my choice of dress.
I look like some kind of bohemian who came out of the alley compared to these people.
“Hey,” Lily says, coming up to kiss Lauren on both cheeks. Are we European now? She speaks Russian? She greets people with cheek kisses?
Where am I?
“You look stunned,” Lily says to me, laughing.
“Well,” I say, looking around. “You said small brunch. So obviously I was not expecting this.”
“I know.” Lily giggles as she takes a sip of whatever is in those tall fluted glasses. “You’d never have come if I told you how big this was. But I’m so glad you’re here.” She twines her arm in mine in a sisterly gesture of love.
I try my best to keep smiling.
“Katya,” a girl says off to my right. I recognize her as Michelle from the coffee shop yesterday. “So glad you could make it. And I love those boots. You must love them too.” She laughs. “They look like you’ve been wearing them forever.”
If that’s a dig at my outfit, or my money situation, or anything else, I don’t give her the satisfaction of being annoyed. I just smile and look her over. “White. You and Lily, both—”
That’s when I realize they are all wearing the same dress. Lauren, Michelle, and another girl, who I think is Angie—one of the token thugs, as she referred to herself, from yesterday—are all wearing sleeveless white dresses with silver pins. Something I hadn’t noticed on Lily when she was at my house today.
Right. Time to go.
“Lily,” I say, looking down at her with my best unconcerned expression. “I have to go.”
“Awww.” Lily pouts. “But the quartet hasn’t even played yet. And you didn’t have a finger sandwich.”
I pat her hand and widen my fake smile. “I’m afraid I can’t miss that appointment I told you about. But it was so lovely to meet you all.” I nod at each of the girls. “And I really do hope we can get that drink sometime, Lauren. Just let me know when you have time and I’ll clear my schedule.”
“OK,” Lily says. “Do you want me to walk you out?”
“No, no,” I say. “I can find my way. But don’t forget about me tomorrow. I’ll see you for coffee?”
“Yup,” Lily says. “See you tomorrow.”
I take deep, deep breaths as I find my way out of the back yard and walk down the street to where I parked my car. I smile at everyone bustling along on the sidewalk. Even if they are not dressed for the party. Everyone.
But when I am safely inside the privacy of my car, I let the panic take over. I stick my head between my legs for a full three minutes as I get my hyperventilation under control.
I’m going to be late to the meeting and I don’t care. I need one more trip to my secret phone. “Please, Mariel,” I whisper to myself. “Get here soon.”
Nothing about this is right.
Everything about this is wrong.
I feel like I’ve missed something very important. Like it’s about to slap me in the face and I will never see it coming because it’s too damn late.
I start car, the panic coming back, and put it in gear. Speed away from this house. This place that is so clearly murky. So clearly manipulative. So well-funded, and perfect, and just out of reach to everyone but a chosen few.
How could my sister miss that? How, after all the things I’ve told her about? After all the things I’ve warned her about?
I know how. But I don’t even allow myself to think the words. I won’t.
I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.
But I will make a promise to them right now. If the Antimony Association thinks they can steal my sister away with pretty parties filled with poisoned promises…
Well. Then let it be a surprise when their world comes crumbling down from all directions.
Chapter Thirty-Five - OLIVER
“That was a joke, right?” I ask Pax, who is still grinning like the mysterious guy he is.
“Look,” Pax says, crossing his arms and leaning back on the server cabinet. “Liam called me and made an offer.”
“You’re not killing West. I don’t care how much of a dick he is, he’s still one of us.”
“Give me a break, Shrike. Of course I’m not going to kill him. But I can fake it long enough to get the answers we need.”
“How? You don’t think that guy wants proof?”
“Are there more of these dark web marketplaces? Or is this the only one?”
“Of course there’s more.”
“Then let’s find one.”
“Pax—”
“Just listen to me, OK? If everything is for sale—and clearly it is, since you’re selling some deeply disturbing shit on this site—”
“It’s not my site. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“—then we can buy a reporter, don’t you think?”
“Why would we want to buy a reporter?”
“To give us proof. What if we buy a reporter, we stage a murder scene, and then we get that reporter to put it on the news? I could show Liam the proof and he will hand over the answers.”
“I don’t like it. And I don’t think we can buy a reporter, Pax.”
“Sure we can. The media is corrupt as fuck these days. We can dangle money in front of them, send them pictures, they put it on the air, and we do our business. As soon as we get what we need, they retract. I think this is how it’s done, Oliver. I don’t even think they will blink. They don’t have to know we’re lying. We just send them the info, they air it as an anonymous social media photo, and bam. We’re golden.”
I think about it. Look for the pitfalls. But really, he has a point. There are all kinds of things that go viral these days that get picked up by the media.
“And then what?” I ask.
Pax smiles because he knows I’m in. “I don’t know yet. I guess it depends on what the girls have planned.”
A faint banging comes from the other side of the door. I can just barely make out West yelling upstairs. “He knows we’re down here.”
Pax looks at his watch. “We gotta get this shit started anyway. I’d like to have Weston dead by the end of the night, if we can swing it.”
I just look at him. “Do not say that outside this room, you understand? And I’m not on board yet. Not until West agrees. So go upstairs and get him and bring him down here so we can talk.”
I turn away before I can see his reaction, but I am all
too familiar with Paxton Vance’s bulldozer attitude once he makes a plan. I have no doubt Weston Conrad will be dead by tonight.
A few seconds later footsteps thump down the stairs and then West, appears, followed by Mac, Nolan, and then Pax.
“Did you lock it up?” I ask him.
Pax shoots me a look closely related to the one I missed a few minutes ago. What do you take me for? this one asks.
“What’s this all about?” Mac asks, leaning up against the wall, arms crossed.
“Mr. Mysterious has a plan to discuss.”
“What kind of plan?” Nolan asks, narrowing his eyes. He’s always been a suspicious fuck. Not that I blame him.
“Remember when I told you Liam called me and asked me to finish the job?”
“The job?” Mac asks. “You mean the one where he was paying you to set up West and then kill him?”
“Hey,” Pax says. “That last plan worked like a charm. I saved your ass.” Pax and West glare at each other. “You should be thanking me, Corporate. Because I’ve just had a stroke of brilliance.”
West doesn’t look convinced. “Is that so?”
“Well, what is it?” Mac asks.
Nolan laughs. “He’s gonna kill him probably.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” Pax says, his smile so big he looks like a crazed psychopath. Did I really consent to my sister dating this guy? What the fuck was I thinking? “Yes! Hahahaha.” He laughs. Then his face goes dead serious. “Not really, you assholes. West,” he says, looking at him. “You know I might not like you much, but I’ve always had your back. And I’m sorry about this, buddy, but they want you dead. If I kill you, Liam will talk. We need answers, brother. So take one for the team, OK?”
I put my hands up to stop the uproar. Then place two fingers on my tongue and whistle shrilly to shut them up. “Stop,” I say. Nolan is tugging West off Pax and Mac is pushing Pax into a corner to keep them from fighting.
“Knock it off, you dicks. It’s a fucking figure of speech, Weston. For fuck’s sake. Don’t you know him well enough by now? He’s just trying to piss you off.”
West pushes Nolan off him and straightens his shirt. “Well, excuse the fuck out of me,” he says, breathing hard and pointing a finger at Pax, “for not thinking any of this shit is funny. I’ve got way too much on my mind to deal with his childish bullshit.”
“I have to side with Weston on this,” Mac says. “Knock it off, Pax. And just explain the goddamned plan.”
“OK, let me fill you in on a few things Oliver just updated me on,” Pax says, looking at me for permission.
I nod. What’s the point in hiding it now? This shit is happening. There is no way what’s going on with my site on the dark web will be secret once this is all over. I know it. I’m being set up. We’re all being set up.
Pax explains the plan to fake-kill West and hire a reporter in the dark market to air it. Make it go viral. Everyone is pretty quiet while he lays out the plan, but once he’s done, they are nothing but questions.
“Where will we take this picture?” West asks.
“How will we make it believable?” Nolan adds.
“What if Liam doesn’t believe it? What if he wants a finger? Or a baby toe?”
“A baby toe?” Pax says, making a face at Mac. “Were you watching The Big Lebowski before you got here?” Pax shakes his head as Nolan huffs out a laugh. “Fucking toe. No one wants a stupid baby toe for proof.”
“Whatever,” Mac says. “You get what I’m saying. I don’t think he’ll believe it unless he sees a dead body.”
“And we’re not gonna have a dead body,” West says.
“But we will have the next best thing,” Pax says, beaming a huge smile at me. “Oliver’s cousin-friend, Sparrow Flynn, owns the Fort Collins Theater, right?”
“So?” I say. “We’re not getting her involved. Believe me, she is so strait-laced, it will never stay secret. She will tell every one of my relatives before the sun goes down. My dad will come over.” I shake my head, just picturing it. “And my mother will overreact and start pulling out guns. No. We can’t use Sparrow.”
“What if she doesn’t know?” Pax says. “There’s a huge ZombieFest this weekend for Halloween, right? And she runs the new haunted house in town?”
“Yeah? So?” I say again.
“Cindy said it’s pretty hardcore. Like they have professional makeup artists for the blood and gore.”
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Nolan says. “That’s genius, Mysterious.”
Pax looks proud of himself. “Why, thank you, Romantic. I do my best. So all you gotta do, my little matchmaker friend,” Pax says, clapping me on the back, “is tell her West is going to a costume party tonight down in Denver and needs help. Make the rest of that lie up for me, will you? You’re good at that.”
I ignore his insult and think it over as I scratch the hair on my chin. “Sparrow,” I finally say, “has West painted up like he took a bullet to the head. Then we take the picture, buy a reporter from the dark market, and have him leak it.”
“Exactly,” Pax says.
“Tell me again why we think people are gonna care enough about this one murder to show it on TV?” Mac asks.
“Because it’s Weston Conrad,” Pax says. “The Misters are back, gentlemen. And as much as people would like to say they’re not interested in our debauchery, they are. So let’s give them the headline they’ve been waiting a decade for.”
Chapter Thirty-Six - KATYA
I get to the building behind Shrike Bikes ten minutes late because of my unplanned stop at home. But as soon as I approach the door, it opens, and Ariel is standing there looking pretty pissed off.
“Nice of you to join us,” she snaps as she lets me pass and then locks the doors behind us.
I wait as she does that, then follow her through a sheet of construction plastic and down a hall. “What is this place?” I ask, looking ahead at the large room. It’s got lanes, or aisles, marked out with some kind of track on the ceiling. “A bowling alley?”
Ariel snorts. “A shooting range.”
“Really?” I look around as we come to another piece of construction plastic. Ariel pushes her way through, then me. And on the other side is a small office with a dingy round table. All the other girls are either sitting or standing, drinking coffee.
“There she is,” Cindy says. “Hey, Katya. How’s—” She stops talking to look me over more carefully. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
I nod. “Yes. Something happened. Or is happening. I’m not sure. But these Antimony girls. You guys, it’s not good. I’ve spent the last four years working towards this moment confident that I was onto them and they were not on to me. But—”
“What?” Ivy says, setting down her cup and coming over to me. “Slow down, OK? What’s going on? Who are you talking about?”
“The Silver Society,” I whisper, looking around for cameras and anything that might hide a microphone. “They’re on to me, you guys. I thought we had the perfect plan, but no. They’ve been one step ahead this whole time. I know it. I feel it in my bones.”
Every one of them—Ariel, Cindy, Ivy, Victoria, and Ellie—is looking at each other with stunned expressions.
“What?” I ask. “You know what I’m talking about. Mariel told me you all knew.”
“Mariel,” Cindy says. “You know Mariel?”
“We’re been working together ever since I left Fort Collins and went back to Gori. We’ve been planning this, you guys.”
“I think you need to start from the beginning,” Victoria says, pulling out a chair at the table for me. “And God help you, Katya Kalashova, if you lie to us—”
“You’ll what?” I ask, not liking her implied threat.
“Never mind that,” Ellie says. “Just sit down, Katya. Start from the beginning and tell us what’s happening. What’s got you so scared. Because it’s written all over your face.”
“I’m not scared,” I say, accepting the offer of
a chair. I look at each of them, one by one. “I’m terrified.”
Cindy is sitting next to me. She reaches for my hand and gives it a pat. “It’s OK,” she says. “We’re here. And if you’re on Oliver’s side, we’re on your side.” She looks up at the others. “Right, girls?”
They nod, all except Ariel and Victoria.
“Ariel,” Cindy snaps. “We have nothing, OK? She seems to know everything. So you need to be supportive.”
But Ariel doesn’t answer. Victoria does. “Does this have to do with…” She hesitates. “With our shared past?”
I nod.
Victoria lets out a deep breath. “OK. I’m in then. If you need help, I’m in.”
We all look at Ariel, who seems ready to object. But when she looks at Tori, her expression softens. She trusts her, and if Victoria trusts me, then…
“OK,” Ariel says. “But you had better tell us everything. If anyone I care about gets hurt, Katya Kalashova, and I do mean anyone,” she stresses, “I will make sure you take responsibility for it.”
It’s definitely a threat. It could mean legal responsibility. Or something more sinister, like retribution from her and her town filled with family and friends.
So I start from the beginning.
Once upon a time there were two little girls named Katya and Lily. Both born into the Russian mafia. And by no fault of their own, they were beautiful, golden girls everyone fell in love with. They were smart, and pretty, and spoiled rotten by the Bratva.
Katya, the older girl by four years, went to her eleventh birthday party dressed like a snow princess. Something out of Swan Lake. She was delicate, and graceful, and expecting to come home with presents and a belly filled with cake.
But instead of a party there was a meeting between two rival families. Hers, the Bratva, light-haired and blue-eyed. Covered in tattoos that told stories no child should ever have to hear.
And his, the dark mafia. Wearing suits and carrying big guns.
She felt like Little Red Riding Hood the moment when she figured out her dear, old grandmother was really a wolf with snapping teeth covered in sticky saliva.
