Chapter One
In which this is why we can’t have nice things.
Mala…
“Your ankles would look good around my neck.”
“Oh my god!That’swhat he said? Why didn’t you beat the hell out of him?” Tatiana leans against a light post, laughing uncontrollably.
“Because if I did teach the poor little lad some manners,” I said, “I would have lost my place in line for the bathroom. Priorities.”
“You must have been in a good mood,” Willow said dubiously, “you broke that Junior’s nose and cheekbone last year for… what did he say to you?”
Rolling my eyes, I clarify. “It was Malcolm Tennant, and I didn’t break hischeekbone.It was his orbital socket. He said, and I quote, ‘Sit on my face and I’ll eat my way to your heart’.”
Willow spits out her mouthful of gelato, coughing as I helpfully pound on her back. “Warn a girl, would you? You can’t just pop out with shite like that when I’m eating!”
The London night is lit up with hundreds of strings of lights crisscrossed overhead at the Summertime Festival at Southbank. The Costume Carnival night is a gloriouskaleidoscope of masks and music, street performers, and dozens of food tents, and I‘m eyeing the luscious-looking kebabs sizzling on the grill next to us while Willow composes herself. I know if I look over my shoulder, I will see two bodyguards trailing us. Close enough if needed, but not breathing down our necks, the way my security detail does at home.
“I think the worst one I ever heard was from this fuckwit at a club in Sydney,” Willow says. “He said, ‘Are you on your period because you’re bloody beautiful.’ I should have punched him for that one.”
“That’s nasty,” agrees Tatiana, “Mine was from from a friend of Athena’s who said, ‘Are you Medusa? Because you’re turning me rock hard.’”
“Ewwww!” Willow drops her gelato cone, laughing too hard to notice. “Why are men such bloody wankers?” She’s the firstborn from an Australian family cartel.
“Not all of them,” protests Tatiana.
“We know,” I drawl, putting my arm over her shoulders, “you are in love with the ultimate specimen of manhood and beauty, Lucca Toscano. Oh, and will you thank him for the bodyguards? It was so nice to get rid of mine for the evening.”
Granted, Richard, my bodyguard, thought I had been safely bundled off to the Ares Academy with my two friends, but thanks to Lucca’s sleight of hand and the offer of two of his bodyguards, we had one last night of freedom together. A girl’s night. Lucca didn’t even pout about sending us out on the town and not joining us. Heisthe perfect boyfriend.
“Two bodyguards are more than enough,” she agreed, “we’re all wearing masks and in costume, we’reincognito.”
“Yes, so mysterious,” Willow laughs, “no one’s looking twice at the three girls in rainbow glitter wigs and booty shorts.”
I wince a little. The aforementioned shorts and matching bikini tops were her idea. I don’t even wear a bikini at home by our swimming pool. My father would have an aneurysm. Also, these shorts are riding up my ass and there is far more cheek showing than I am comfortable with.
“We do look like everyone else on this street, though,” I add, “and blending in is a skill we should be honing.”
“Good,” Willow says gleefully, “then we should all be holding the ubiquitous plastic cup full of rum punch like everyone else.” She’s stopped by a crowded stand, elbowing her way through to grab drinks for us.”
“Just one,” warns Tatiana.
“Just one,” I agree, taking my plastic cup. The warm summer night and the taste of the terrible punch and cheap rum make me feel like I’m at a college party. One in the real world, not at the Ares Academy where you wouldn’t have to worry about someone drugging your drink, but possibly poisoning it.
“So this is regular people's life,” I ponder, linking arms with Tatiana.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she says with a melancholy smile, “because we are not regular people.”
Earlier…
“You have a responsibility to this family, do you hear me?” My father’s angry voice is loud, I pull the phone away from my throbbing ear for a second. His phone calls are always something to dread, but he was especially cruel today.
Sound sweet. Don’t give him an excuse to make this worse.
“Of course, Papa,” I said, ever the proper young lady. “Just as you say.”
“Then do not disappoint me, do you understand? I will not accept another failure like last year.” He’s coughing, but I can still hear him sucking on a cigar.
