Chapter 19
THE GANG’S ALL HERE
INEZ
Ren and I enter the newly-finished Broken Arrows common room—which some of the girls, led by Terra, have taken to calling the Quiver. Terra calls the new moniker "A multiple entendre,” although I can only find two meanings.
The men are clustered around one of the long cafeteria-style tables, cheering and clapping and shouting encouragement as Chance and Kane arm-wrestle.
Bottles of booze litter the other table, along with two liters of soda, cans of sparkling water, bowls of potato chips and tortilla chips, and smaller bowls of various dips.
There are also casserole dishes containing homemade Mac ’n cheese, chimichangas, and what appears to be chicken breasts slathered with thick layers of cream cheese and melted cheese.
More baking dishes contain brownies, some sort of multi-layer brownie-marshmallow-ice-cream concoction; there's a platter of fat chocolate chip cookies, a platter of small white balls of baked dough doused in powdered sugar, and a small bowl of what looks to be homemade gummy candies off by itself to one side.
The women are on the sectional, a reality dating show featuring ridiculously attractive and vapid young people on TV with the volume off and the subtitles on.
Bottles of nail polish and polish remover litter the coffee table, intermixed with red Solo cups each marked with a different color swipe of polish.
An ashtray sits off to one side, a huge, hand-rolled joint smoldering.
The women are painting each other's nails, cackling and screeching and squealing just as loudly as the men, although I'm not immediately certain what they're laughing about.
"SOPH!" Terra shrieks, spotting me.
She wriggles with comical awkwardness to the edge of the couch, drying nails held ridiculously out in front of her, and then stands up on the couch and leaps over the back.
She's a bit tipsy, though, and her landing is sloppy, ending up with her doing a Paul Blart-style tuck and roll across the floor; I came down here once, a few years ago, while the men, all single then, were hammered together and watching that movie, and ended up standing out of their sight line, watching some of it with them, unbeknownst to them.
It was…certainly memorable, if nothing else.
Terra hops to her feet, fingers still held out. "I'm fine!"
Saxon cackles. "That was smooth as silk, baby girl."
Terra does a silly yet sensual belly-dancing hip-roll move. "I know." She trots over to me—with a lot of wholly unnecessary bouncing, if you ask me. When she reaches me, she whispers in my ear. "Is he still watching me?"
I frown at her. "Who? Saxon?"
"Yes." She tries to suppress a giggle and fails.
"I'm trying to see how long it'll take me to seduce him back to our room.
Annika and I have a wager going. If I can get him back to our room before midnight, Annika has to wear any outfit of my choosing every day for a week.
If it's after midnight, she gets to put me through three of her most brutal workouts.
And girl, lemme tell ya, I'm gonna win. Because number one, Saxy can't get enough of this ass—" and here she glances over her shoulder to make sure he's watching, and then gives her ass a vigorous shaking, "and number two, I hate working out. "
"Saxy?" I echo.
She snickers. "Yeah, he hates it. Or, he loves to hate it. A bit of both, maybe." She pushes me around the sectional away from Ren. "I'm stealing your girl, Ren. Go play with the boys."
I glance back at Ren over my shoulder, mouthing HELP ME.
He just laughs and gives me a finger-wiggle wave.
By the time he's reached the table—where Kane has Chance held to a stand-still, their mammoth arms shaking at a 75-degree angle toward Kane—Rev is handing Ren a Solo cup, slinging an arm around his shoulders, and wedging him into the circle of men watching the arm-wrestling contest.
Terra guides me to the couch and playfully shoves me backward so I land seated between Anjalee and Naomi. Anjalee has a cup to her mouth, but she's giggling uncontrollably into it, while Naomi's shoulders shake in silent laughter.
Annika is on her feet, cane hooked over her forearm, several Solo cups pinched between her fingers, which she passes out. "Tequila and Sprite for Myka, vodka soda for Tati, whiskey neat for yours truly, and red wine and Coke for Anj." She shoots me a look. "Whatcha drinkin', Soph?"
"Um." I shrug. “I…I’ve never been much of a drinker. Not having control over myself and my surroundings, in my life, has most often presented a significant risk."
Annika nods, eyes full of understanding.
"I get it, babe, I really do. But you're safe, here.
No one's coming after you, or Ren, or any of us.
Your ex-dick is dead. You're good. You can cut loose with us.
No pressure, though. You don't wanna drink, hit that J.
Or don't. We don't care. We just want you to unwind with us and have some fun. "
I inhale, hold it, and let it out in a long, slow sigh, nodding. I point at the smoldering joint. "Let me try that, please."
Annika hands it to me. "All yours." She scans the group on the couch. "Anyone need anything before I sit down?"
No one does, and she lowers herself to the couch on the other side of Anjalee, who has finally managed to stop her giggles.
"So, Sophia," Scarlett says—she's lounging in the corner of the sectional, dressed in a pair of very tight, very short black workout shorts that leave the lower swell of her butt exposed, her long legs bare, with a midriff-baring, hand-cut, white muscle shirt over a black sports bra.
Her hair is loose for once, and she's sipping from a Solo cup, glancing at Solomon over the rim; judging by their private smiles.
They're sharing some wordless, amusing secret.
"So, Scarlett." I puff on the joint, hold it, blow the smoke out…and dissolve into coughing, immediately going lightheaded as the THC takes hold.
"For the daughter of a drug kingpin and ex-wife of another, you're pretty straightlaced," Terra says.
I shrug, nod. "Yes, I suppose so. I grew up watching my father's men get drunk and act like smooth-brained cavemen, and I saw firsthand the effects of the products we produced and distributed. So drinking and getting high have never held much appeal for that reason alone. And as I said a moment ago, my survival frequently depended on my reaction time and situational awareness.” Already feeling myself slowing down and loosening up, I shrug and smile, wave the joint. “This, however, seems to hold promise."
Annika takes the joint from me. "If you’re new to it, I'd let that hit or two you've taken kick in all the way before you go for more.”
I nod, letting out a breath that seems laden with the myriad stressors I've harbored for so long. "This is quite the party."
Terra cackles. "This isn't a party, babe. It's just a…celebratory hangout."
I glance at Ren—Saxon is murmuring in his ear, indicating the small bowl of gummies. Ren takes one and eats it, and Saxon claps him on the back.
"Those are not just regular gummies, are they?" I ask.
Naomi shakes her head. "Nope. I didn't realize it at first and ate two." She holds up her cup. “This is just Diet Coke because I…am…high…as…fuck.”
Silas's gaze goes to her as her shouted statement rings out. He grins at her, laughing and shaking his head.
I eye her. "Naomi, my goodness."
She sticks her tongue out at me. "I'm a big girl, Sophia. I can curse and do drugs if I want."
“Cannabis gummies hardly count as drugs," Terra mumbles into her cup. “It’s recreationally legal in the State of Nevada.”
Naomi's eyes widen comically. "Really? Even better!"
This gets a laugh out of me. "Oh, Naomi. You're too cute."
She pouts. "Cute. I don't want to be cute. I want to be a badass like you and Scar."
Scarlett snickers at this. "Nay-Nay, you are a badass. Myka and Anj told me about your run-in with those dudes at the motel."
Naomi nods seriously. "That was pretty badass, wasn't it?" She frowns, then. "Is Nay-Nay cute or badass?"
"Both," Myka, Terra, and Scarlett say in unison.
"Oh. Okay." Naomi peers at my feet—I'm wearing my slippers, black fuzzy, furry, comfy Ugg clogs, barefoot. "TOES!"
I rear back in surprise at her shouted non-sequitur, following her gaze to my feet. "Toes?"
She points at my feet. "I've never seen your toes. Nakey feet time, bitch." She stares at me, eyes wide. "I called you a bitch. But I was just teasing, okay?"
I splutter a laugh and lean into her. "I promise not to cut your heart out and eat it, Nay-Nay." I pretend to glare. "This time."
She shrinks away from me. "Eeep!" She actually says the word. "I'm not tasty!"
"DISAGREE!" Silas shouts from across the room.
This whole exchange has Anjalee off into another fit of giggles.
Keeping her cup against her mouth, giggling, Anjalee leans precariously forward, stretches out a hand, and yanks one of my slippers off, tossing it wildly to one side; it nearly brains Tatiana.
Giggling so hard she's about to hyperventilate, Anjalee yanks my other slipper off and hurls it the other way; the sole of my slipper thwacks the wall and drops to the floor, leaving a black shoe print on the freshly painted wall.
"Oops," she whispers, and she points at my feet. "Nakey feet.”
Annika shakes her head, looking at me. "Lightweights." She juts her chin at the swarm of polish bottles. "Pick a color."
I frown at the dizzying array. "Um." I look at my toes, wiggling them. "I don't know."
"Pink!" Naomi says. "Barbie-barf pink. Because you would normally never, and this is the new you."
My eyebrows go up at this. "I agree, as a matter of fact." I point at the bottle labelled Cotton Candy Dreams. "That one."