The guys who joined us snicker. “You know him?” one of them asks.
I shrug and sidestep the question. “Bet he makes the decisions.”
Soprano’s attention flicks to Henri. “You mute, bitch?”
Henri sucks in a breath. “No. Can’t fit a word in with all your talkin’.’’
That’s Henri. She’s scared until someone gives her attitude. Then she starts swinging.
Soprano glares at Henri, then gives her a smile like I’ve seen Verity do - vicious and hostile. “You better hope Renfrew lets you in, ‘cause if he don’t, I get first crack at you.”
“You and who’s army?” Henri sneers.
I squeeze her hand. “Enough, Henri.” The Fleming women don’t ever seem to know when to shut up.
She glares at me. “Suck balls.”
The guys laugh. Cam says to me, “Like how you handle the girlfriend.”
“I’m not—,” Henri starts, but I stomp on her foot as I grab her around the shoulders and pull her into me. I can tell she’s struggling not to punch me in the nose.
“She’s a handful. Gotta keep her in line.”
“I’m gonna kill you,” Henri whispers.
“I’m scared,” I reply.
Cam jerks his head towards the door. “Let’s get you to Renfrew. It’ll be interesting to see how bad he’s gonna hurt you.” He says to the other two guys. “Stick around outside.”
He leads us through the door. Soprano follows.
The clubhouse looks like an abandoned warehouse, which it probably is. The air is thick with weed and music is blaring out of speakers. Serious metalhead stuff. All sorts of tables are scattered around, some couches and armchairs, and a few mattresses against the walls. There’s a couple on one of the mattresses screwing.
“God,” Henri moans as she looks at them. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Don’t,” I mutter. We can’t look like lightweights.
She raises her lip. “It wasn’t literal, stupid.”
There are a lot of guys and girls hanging around. Not just young, but older guys too. A bunch of them are sitting at a round table, playing poker.
Henri sucks in a breath and says, “Balls!”
“What?” I reply wishing she’d shut up.
“Sadie’s here! He knows who we are.”
Balls is right!
Neither of us has any more time to discuss the problem because we’re herded towards Renfrew. He’s lounging on a couch, cigarette in one hand, a bottle of beer tucked between his thighs. He’s got his arm around a girl, kissing her neck, but when he sees us, he pushes her away.
“Who the fuck are these brats?” he says to Cam as he straightens up.
Soprano sneers. “Kids. Say they wanna join.”
“Names!” Renfrew snaps.
Soprano and Cam look at us. Cam says, “We didn’t ask.”
