“Greer mentioned you’ve been working on an academic article,” Ivy said.
Remi nodded. “Every couple of years, I select a different isolationist group here in the U.S. to study. Lately, I’ve been focusing on the Friendship Community.”
“Are there so many different ones in the U.S.?” Hope asked.
“I don’t think there’s a good estimate on a number. I would guess there’s upward of a thousand. The government puts it somewhere north of four hundred.”
“I had no idea there’s so many.”
Remi shrugged. “Groups like the ones I study are elusive. New ones form all the time. Old ones disband or dissolve. It’s a constantly changing landscape. The Friendship Community is one of the older ones. It started in the nineteenth century as a utopian society. It had all but died out until the Great Depression kicked it into gear again. Every wave of fear that passes through the main U.S. population infuses it with new vigor. It’s now stronger than it’s ever been and has been growing steadily for thirty years. My paper focuses on what’s made it survive—and now thrive—for so long. The social cohesion at its core.”
“That sounds fascinating,” Mandy said. “Will we be able to read your finished paper?”
“Of course.”
“I’d like to read it before you publish it,” Owen said. Remi hadn’t been aware that he’d joined their group.
She looked into his cold blue eyes. “You said you weren’t interested in my research.”
“I’m interested in your analysis.”
“What makes a cult a cult, Remi?” Ivy asked.
Remi smiled. “That’s an easy question to ask and a hard one to answer. Depends on the group’s ideation. It could be centered around religion, hate, fear. Anything could be a unifying thread that pulls a group together. Once together, however, it uses fear, dread, and mind control to keep the group together.”
“God, that sounds like us,” Ivy said. Kit had come over to their group. Remi didn’t miss the way his hand tightened on her shoulder.
Remi shook her head. She understood this group so much better than she had just days ago. “This isn’t a cult. Maybe an enclave, but not a cult.” She smiled at Kit. “You identify with a mission, but your lives aren’t centered around a leader.” She looked at Owen, whose pale blue eyes showed no emotion, then back to Ivy. “You’re careful about who comes into your midst, but you also exist in the wider external society. You don’t eschew science. You embrace different races and religions.”
“Good save,” Val said, chuckling.
Remi realized the entire group was standing around them, listening. “It’s no save at all. I don’t hold back. If I thought this group was a cult, I’d say it.” And that was the truth. She realized, now, there were big differences between this group and a cult.
Someone came into the room. Remi turned to see Greer heading toward them. He wore flip-flops, tight jeans, and a gray V-neck T-shirt. The black leather and silver bands made a wide cuff on his right wrist, and were balanced by the tactical watch on his left wrist. His hair was still damp and wavy. He hadn’t shaved, but his stubble didn’t soften his hard jaw or that cleft in his chin that Remi found so fascinating.
He looked at her, almost as if checking her well being, then glanced around at the group, his gaze hitting on Owen and Kit. “S’going on?”
“Late to class, as usual,” Blade said, grinning.
“Remi’s teaching us about cults,” Mandy said.
He crossed his arms as he came to stand behind the sofa next to Kit. “Oh.”
Max frowned at him. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah.” Greer looked at him, then looked away. “I just crashed for a bit. It’s all good.”
Val brought him a beer, then turned some country music on. Everyone returned to where they were before.
“Selena! Get over here and dance with me!” Val ordered.
She was leaning over the pool table, about to take a shot. She straightened and called out, “Val, go fuck yourself.”
He sighed, throwing his arms out to his sides. “See? I’ve lost my mojo,” he said to the room at large.
Hope set her beer on the coffee table and went over to him. “I’ll dance with you.”
Val’s face lit up. “Are we sharing?” he asked Max.
“Oh, hell no,” Max answered with a flash of teeth.
“Course not.” Val gave a disgusted face.
“I thought you gave up sharing,” Owen said as he set a card on the table.
“Yeah. Forgot about that. Well, just the dance then, Hope.” He reached for her, and they started a slow movement across the floor.
Hope laughed. “I understand. You have an awfully pretty face. I’d hate for Max to rearrange it.”
Val huffed loudly. “As if.”
Remi was watching Val and Hope, smiling at his antics, when she felt Greer’s fingers slip into hers. She looked up at him, into his haunted eyes. Her smile faded.
“Dance with me?” he asked.
She let him lead her to the area where the carpet ended and the wood floor made dancing easy. The song was a slow one. He set his big hands on her waist and drew her close to his body. She ran her hands up his chest to circle his neck.
For a long moment, he stared into her eyes. She watched the shadows in them, surprised that he didn’t try to hide them from her. “You saw her again when you slept, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer for the space of a breath. “This isn’t about Sally. It’s about us.” He touched his hand to her face.
She ducked her head. “Greer, what will your friends think?”
“I don’t see anyone here but you.”
She smiled at that, but she wasn’t as oblivious to those in the room as he was.
He touched his thumb to her lips. “And it occurs to me, the way I’m looking at you leaves little to the imagination.”
“You’re okay with their knowing about us?”
“Yeah. ’Cause I really don’t give a fuck about them right now.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. “In fact, I think we should go up to my room. Now.”