It’s not really an answer. A million questions spring to mind about his club and who his allies are and who is warning him away from me and why, but the one single thought that wins out is... “I don’t want you to get in trouble over me.”
Razor offers a crooked smile that I guess is meant to comfort me, but all I see is sadness. “I’ll worry about me so you don’t need to. I hate to ask, but beyond us working together in class, do you have a problem with keeping whatever this is between us a secret?”
He nudges my leg with his own, rekindling the fire that had begun to burn minutes before. “The fewer questions I get from the club about you, the better it will be, and it’ll be easier on you at school the less we’re seen together. Besides, being a secret makes the flirting more fun.”
I should be annoyed at what Razor is saying, at the idea that he doesn’t want to be seen with me in public. Instead, a thrill runs through me, so fast, so strong, that goose bumps form along my arms. A secret. Me and Razor from the Reign of Terror—a secret. There’s something magical in the idea of there being a secret between us. Something exciting about being allowed to explore this newfound friendship without the prying eyes of the rest of the world.
Life just went from awful to incredibly fantastic. “I can absolutely live with that.”
RAZOR
Breanna: Apples. Your turn.
I DON’T KNOW why her answer causes my lips to curve up, but it does. It’s eleven at night. She texted to let me know she wasn’t making much progress on the code. I texted back that she should take a break. Now neither of us seems eager to end the conversation. Our texts took a turn toward random and we’ve been sharing favorite foods. Breanna’s moved us on to fruit.
Me: I don’t eat fruit.
Breanna: Liar.
I laugh. Maybe I am.
It’s been a few weeks since Breanna and I made our deal. She’s been working on my code and, with a few glares from me, Kyle Hewitt has gone mute about me and Breanna, which is what I wanted. He’s scared of me, yet with time passing, he’s relaxing. Tonight I step up my game to nail the bastard.
Breanna: Kyle’s paper is due soon.
The rare happy moment dies. Me: First step to getting K out of your life starts tonight.
Breanna: When are we going to shoot the rockets?
Classic Breanna. She switches the subject to school when she stresses out. Her brain operates so fast I’m not sure she’s aware of the defense mechanism. Me: Tomorrow? I know a place where we can shoot them off.
Breanna: Sounds good. I get off work at six. I don’t have a ride so can you pick me up?
My smile grows. Twenty dollars she has no idea what she asked for. Me: Yeah. Wear jeans and boots. It’s going to be a fast ride. I gotta go.
I pocket my cell and chuckle as it vibrates with her frantic responses. I suck down half my beer and consider grabbing another. People surround me. Over a hundred of them, but for a while I lived in a world where there wasn’t chaos, only me and Breanna.
Music pounds from speakers, there is beer on tap and two chicks are on top of the bar I’m leaning against—stripping for anyone who cares. I haven’t looked up once, even when a bra was tossed in my direction. My mind has been focused on Breanna and the meeting that’s about to take place tonight. Plus it doesn’t help that across the room is a picture of my mother.
The clubhouse is packed and it’s not just the mother chapter filling the place. Chapters from as far as California have made the pilgrimage.
It’s the annual remembrance party thrown for the members of the Terror and Terror Gypsies who have died. Some of the people we’re honoring are Eli’s blood brother and Chevy’s father, James, Violet’s father and, because life is cruel, Olivia and my mother.
A new beer with sweat running down the sides slides into view and Pigpen sidles up beside me grinning like a crazy man. “Everyone’s dying to know who you’re texting with. It’s like you’re a twelve-year-old girl chained to that damn cell. Have you started your period yet?”
“Fuck you.”
He punches me in the shoulder. “Seriously, who’s on the other end?”
I drink the beer while maintaining eye contact. He should know better than to ask questions he won’t get answers to. He motions to my cell. “I could hack it and find out.”
Proved he could this afternoon after the two of us hacked into emails of someone who’s been targeting a client. “You won’t.”
He tilts his head in annoyed agreement. A brother wouldn’t disrespect another brother like that. “Is it a girl? If so, tell me you’re being smart and covering up. This club has had enough teenage baby bullshit to last us a lifetime and the last one was born seventeen years ago.”
“I need something,” I say, ignoring his jab at Eli.
“Finally! Name it and it’s yours. That’s what we’ve been waiting for, brother. You to come to us.”
I shift to look at his reflection in the mirror on the wall beyond the bar. He appears too damn happy and that causes a wave of uneasiness.