He looks at me. “And you?”
“I’d follow him anywhere,” I say sarcastically.
Renfrew laughs and I actually get a smile out of Soprano. “Would you now?” Renfrew says. “Well, that’s good, because you wander around on your own, you’re gonna draw attention. A lot of the guys like them young.”
Oscar stiffens. “They better keep their hands to themselves,”
“I can take care of myself!” I snap at everyone. “Quit being so misogynist.”
Renfrew raises his eyebrows. “That’s the last thing I am. Everyone here is involved in the business and does what’s needed to keep my gang strong.”
“Whatever,” I say.
Renfrew stares at us for a moment longer, then he shouts, “Benji! Lola! Get your asses over here!”
A minute later, a guy and girl stumble up. They’re pretty young, especially the guy. They both smell like booze and cigarette smoke. The girl, Lola, is pretty enough and pretty filled out. Her tank is practically painted on and her jeans hug her hips. She’s wearing flip-flops on her feet.
But it’s Benji who draws the eye. He’s wearing a knee-length red jacket with black cuffs and a lapel that has gold color thread stitched as swirls. It hangs open to reveal a gold vest over a white shirt. The shirt’s buttoned all the way to the top and a red bow tie wraps around the collar. His pants, tight like leggings, are tucked into knee-high black boots. The outfit is topped off with a black top hat with a gold ribbon that matches his vest wrapped around it. One of his white-gloved hands is holding a whip. Basically, he’s a ringmaster in the circus.
“Holy,” Oscar murmurs.
He’s got that right.
“I was kinda busy, Ren,” Lola snarks.
He ignores her. “I have a job for you.”
I start to quake inside again as my imagination goes into overdrive. What is Renfrew gonna tell them to do to us?
“What?” Benji slurs.
“Are you high?” Renfrew asks him.
“As a kite.”
As cliches go, that’s the worst, but also spot on. Now I’m worried they’re gonna shoot us up with meth or something.
Oscar’s thinking the same thing. “Not doing drugs.”
“That’s the spirit, kid,” Benji says in a ringmaster voice. “Just say ’no’.”
Renfrew points to his forearm, which has a dripping, misshaped, ghostlike skeleton on it. It’s all in black. “You want to join the gang, you have to get initiated. First, you’re getting inked. Our gang logo. Everyone has to have it. Then tomorrow night, we beat the shit out of you. You’ll survive but you’ll wish you hadn’t.” He tilts his head towards Oscar. “Then you go home with a couple of the guys and put your fucker of a dad in the hospital.”
“You,” he says to me. “You’ll stay here. If the boyfriend passes the test, you get to live.”
Even though I heard everything Renfrew said, my mind kind of froze at ‘tattoo’. “They’re doing the tattoos?” I say about Benji and Lola.
Oscar swivels his head. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
I can’t say what I’m really thinking, which is that mom is gonna freak out when she sees the tattoo, so instead, I reply, “Look at those two. You won’t have to kill us. We’ll die from a staph infection.”
“Henri, stop,” Oscar says tersely.
“And the tattoo will look horrible because those two can barely stand, let alone hold a needle steady.”
Renfrew gives me a big smile. “Yep. Girl like you, clearly entitled. Be fun to have you around.” Then he sobers. “Hope we don’t have to end you.”
Oscar tenses. “I hate my old man, so we’re good.” He’s such a good actor. I’d believe him if I didn’t know better.
