Chapter 20
“Yeah, Zeus owns Shadows and a lot of other businesses around here,” Meela states, spearing a cherry tomato with her fork and popping it into her mouth. “Draco, Sandman, and Snake are heirs to the God dynasty.”
“So they’re actually brothers, as in blood related?”
“Yep, just different mothers. Why didn’t you tell me about your interview? I would’ve warned you.”
“Didn’t want to jinx it,” I mutter, pouring more marinara sauce onto my pizza fries.
She folds her arms across the table, regarding me contemplatively. “What happened last night? Why does Sandman have it out for you?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say, averting my gaze.
“That’s cool.” Meela raises her empty cup, signaling our waitress for a refill. “I’m all ears when you’re ready to talk.”
I manage a thin smile. “Appreciate it.”
“Here you are.” The waitress hands Meela a raspberry lemonade.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” After ensuring we don’t need anything else, she moves on to the next table.
“Look on the bright side,” Meela chirps, resuming our conversation. “The pay is good and you’re off on weekends.”
With Sandman, there is no bright side, only pain and darkness. I don’t tell her that, though, electing to change the subject instead.
“What’s God’s Glory?” I ask.
“Huh?” Confusion knits her eyebrows. “I’m not following.”
“Snake mentioned something about God’s Glory the other day.” It can’t be good, whatever it is. It had Sully scared shitless. “Remember?”
“Oh yeah.” Meela nods in understanding. “I’ll tell you what I’ve heard, but it’s all rumors and speculation.” She pushes her plate back and gives me her undivided attention. “Supposedly, it’s where the Gods punish their enemies and settle disputes among themselves.”
“So it’s a place?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know.”
“What happens there?”
“God’s Wrath,” she answers, her voice low and grave. “Either you come out broken… or you don’t come out at all. Beaten, stomped, fucked up beyond repair.”
“That’s horrible,” I whisper, wringing my hands underneath the table. “No one ever goes to the cops?”
“Probably, but they’re most likely dead now. Going to the cops is a death sentence as far as the Gods are concerned. God’s Eye sees all.”
“God’s Eye?”
“Yeah, nothing happens in Kent without the Gods finding out.”
God’s Glory? God’s Wrath? God’s Eye? This is all too freaking much.
I shouldn’t have asked. There’s a reason why ignorance is bliss. I have enough to worry about as it is. Damn my curiosity.
Meela refocuses on her buffalo chicken salad, digging in with gusto. I bite into a pepperoni, but I might as well be chewing cardboard. I’m too tense to enjoy my food.
“Quit fidgeting,” Meela reprimands, rolling her eyes. “You gotta hernia or something? And your voice sounds a little hoarse too.”
“No, my butt cheek itches, and I slept with the fan blowing on me, for your information,” I lie and tilt my head sideways. “Wanna scratch it for me?”
“Bitch,” Meela mutters, flipping me the bird.
I actually forgot about our plans today, but got my ass up when she texted me. I didn’t want to stay in bed all day with my dismal thoughts. I wanted to soak in her sassy energy, and she did not disappoint. My mood instantly improved in her presence.
“And what’s with your hair?” she purses her lips, perusing my lopsided ponytail. “No offense, but it’s a raggedy mess. I wasn’t going to say anything, but you can’t be hanging with me looking all bummish. You couldn’t gel down those edges and style your hair in a cute little bun?”
My hair got wet last night and shriveled into a puff ball. By the time Sandman took me home, I was too exhausted and riddled with pain to function. Detangling my hair or even putting on a bonnet were the last things on my mind.
“Subtlety obviously isn’t your middle name,” I say dryly.
“Do you want a friend who keeps it real or a fake friend who smiles in your face and talks shit behind your back?” Meela cocks an eyebrow.
I think about my old fake friends—Claudette, Phyllis, and Savannah. Yeah, I don’t need those types of people in my life. Sandman is enough to contend with.
“I can do your hair next Saturday,” she offers. “I’m enrolling in cosmetology school after I graduate, and practice makes perfect.”
So there’s a silver lining to Sandman’s punishment after all. Free hairdo.
“How many tattoos do you have?”
We arrived at Angry Dragon Ink, Draco’s tattoo shop, twenty minutes ago.
He’s not here, but a dozen or so of his brethren are.
Some are employees, and others are just hanging out.
I try my best to ignore them, which isn’t an easy feat.
At least I had a heads up this time. The dragon-themed furnishings are breathtaking, particularly the murals on the ceiling and walls.
It’s giving majestic, medieval-times vibes.
“Five and counting,” Meela answers proudly, flipping through the tattoo magazine on her lap.
We’re waiting in a roped-off area at the front of the shop.
“Piercings?”
“Sixteen.”
I whistle low. “Damn, that’s a lot.”
“And I’m still not done, girlie.”
“Seriously?” I ask incredulously.
“Not even close.” Meela grins. “Hey, I have an idea.”
“Well, let’s hear it.”
“You should get a piercing today,” she announces, waggling her orange eyebrows—today’s featured color scheme. “Maybe a little ink too.”
I scoff. “Chile, my momma would flip her lid.”
“Aren’t you eighteen?”
“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t matter to her.”
“Listen, you’re an adult, babe,” Meela says. “Anyway, you can get something small and discreet. She doesn’t have to know.”
“I’ll think about it.” I have zero control over my life. Getting a tattoo or piercing would give me some semblance of power. “What are you getting?”
“Garter belt on my right thigh. Wanna see?”
“Sure.” Meela passes me her cell phone. “Whoa, that is hot,” I gush, zooming in on the picture.
“Damn, girl, you still alive?” Snake chuckles, plopping down in the chair next to me. “I thought you were dead for sure.”
Fuck. Where the hell did he come from?
He throws an arm around my shoulders. “Sandman fucked you up something good. You were screaming your goddamn head off.”
“Leave me alone,” I hiss, moving to the chair furthest from him.
“Watch this one,” he says to Meela. “She’ll stab you in the back when you least expect it.”
Oh no, he’s going to tell her what I did.
“Zilphia already told me everything, so go shit on someone else’s day,” she quips, crossing her arms.
Meela lied for me. She doesn’t even know the whole story but still came to my defense.
“You have the worst taste in friends,” Snake tsks, shaking his head before looking back at me. “You know Leah’s brother is a rapist and murderer, right?”
I want to blurt out, “So is your brother,” but I think better of it.
“Stop spreading your lies,” Meela snaps at him.
“Leah’s brother and my sister were friends,” Snake continues, ignoring her. “He wanted more, but she didn’t. One day he snapped, raped her, and stabbed her sixty-seven times.”
My heart breaks for his sister and breaks for him too.
I can’t imagine losing a beloved family member or friend under such horrific circumstances.
That’s got to change a person. Snake’s hatred makes perfect sense now, though it’s misplaced.
Leah shouldn’t suffer for her brother’s alleged crime, guilty or not.
“That’s not true!” Meela shouts.
“Then where the fuck is he, huh?” Snake shouts back at her, bounding to his feet. “Why did he run?”
“He didn’t run.” Meela is standing now too, and suddenly they’re nose-to-nose. “He’s dead, you moron. Whoever killed your sister killed him too.”
Some avidly watch the heated argument unfold, while others go about their day, but no one steps forward to intervene. I’m afraid they’re going to start swinging on each other any moment now.
“Then where’s his fucking body? Why would the killer leave my sister’s body but take his?” Snake questions. “His father is hiding him, and Leah knows where.”
“To throw the cops off their trail, duh. Corey would’ve never hurt your sister,” Meela argues passionately. “He loved her.”
“Don’t you fucking say that!” he rages, shaking her violently. “That sick fuck didn’t love my sister. He was obsessed with her.”
“I know what this is really about.” Meela smirks, propping her hands on her curvy hips. “You’re the one who’s obsessed.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Snake growls.
“Leah,” she responds, one eyebrow arching with practiced flair. “I see the way you look at her. You want her bad.”
Shit, I didn’t see that revelation coming.
Snake shoves her hard, and she crashes to the floor. “Shut your fucking mouth!”
“Asshole!” Meela yells, scrambling to her feet.
I rush between them. “Enough.”
“Jigsaw is the only reason you haven’t been put in your place, but your day is coming,” Snake threatens before storming out the door.