I fight the urge to tell her she’s wrong and that they saved me from a life of misery—or worse, no life at all. Had Ruby and the club not shown up, I might be like Sal right now—with a bullet in the center of my throat, my dead body on display in the center of my father’s front parlor. That would be good for business. Nobody would be stiffing him on their protection money.
“Is this about your dad?” I ask. Before I can say anything else, she turns and opens the driver’s side door and gets out. I follow suit and fight to catch up to her as she hurries down the street toward the party up ahead.
“Sorry,” I say. I feel like I can’t get anything right lately—not with Jim, not with Ryan, not with Nic. The only ones who I don’t seem to be pissing off are Ruby, PJ, and Tegan. Even then it’s spotty with Tegan. She’s kind of a grouch late at night.
“I’ll be ready to talk about my shit when you’re ready to talk about your shit. Until then, let’s just get too fucked up to think about everything that’s wrong with the universe, okay?”
The closer we get to the house, the more intimidated I become by the prospect of walking inside and being amongst all of these people. Michael’s told me about every single party he’s ever went to in varying degrees. He’s always been most fond of regaling the debauchery that goes on—and he’s often a part of. Why he thinks his sister would want to hear about him getting laid, I’ll never know.
The heavy thumping bass rattles everything around me as we near the house. We pass by similar houses, all simple two-stories that show their age, sitting center on narrow lots fenced off in chain-link. People, mostly college-aged, stand around in the front yard drinking beers and talking in small groups. As the crowd thickens, Nic takes my hand and pulls me through the sea of people until we reach the front steps.
Stopping, she looks around, bites her bottom lip, and leans in. Her brows draw together as she says, “Go on in. I have to make a call.” I just nod my head and make my way up the steps on shaky legs. Where in the hell is she going? She brings me to this house with no one I know, in a part of town I’m unfamiliar with, and she takes off less than a minute later?
At the top of the steps, I turn and survey the people around me. For the first time since I left New York, I’m in a crowd of people where not a single one of them seems to be wearing a leather vest, nor do I hear any Harleys in the distance. Despite being a little nervous about the fact that Nic left me here, a bubble of excitement starts in my chest and begins to spread. I’ve never been to a house party before, at least not outside of the fourth of July party that Ruby and Jim threw, but I don’t count that. Everyone in attendance was affiliated with the club in one way or another. But here, it looks like I’m out from under the watchful eye of the club. A grin slowly creeps up on my face, and I can’t control it.
“You look way too happy to be here,” a masculine voice says from beside me. Slightly startled by the intrusion into my thoughts, I jerk away and shoot the perpetrator a dirty look. He’s a young man, close to my age, if not a bit younger. He has broad shoulders and a firm jaw, both of which I’m sure he’ll grow into. His brown eyes look almost black under the dull porch light. Giving me a sheepish smile, he shoves his dark hair off his forehead and blows out a breath.
“Sorry,” I say, waving at the crowd before me. “I was just thinking.”
“About,” he prompts.
Without even considering it, I say, “This is the first time since I got to town that I’m not entirely surrounded by leather vests.” I give him an encouraging smile, but it falls flat. His face drops, his lips forming a line.
“You’re with the club.” It’s more of an accusation than anything. I bite back a snide remark and opt for remaining silent. I expect some kind of vindication of how awful the club is—something along the lines of what Nic said in the car—but instead, he just walks off, leaving me in my place. My first meeting having gone over so well, I decide it’s best just to keep to myself while I wait for Nic to return, just a moment later.
“Okay, let’s get this party started,” she says, rushing up the stairs while shoving her cell phone into her back pocket. She leads the way through the front door and into the living room. Much like Ruby and Jim’s party at the house, here people are sprawled out on furniture, making out, drinking beer, and someone in the corner is sucking on a large glass bong. It’s not until we’ve walked through the living room and into the kitchen that the crowd thins out.