It’s got a straight neckline and a myriad of straps that crisscross from my bust up over my shoulders, wrapping around the nape of my neck. It offers a glimpse of cleavage without being too slutty. The dress dips to midway down my back, showcasing some of my tattoo. “That’s a work of art,” he murmurs from behind as he inspects my ink.
“It’s an avenging angel,” I confirm.
“I fucking love it, and it’s so you.”
“Thanks.” I offer him a genuine smile as I smooth a hand over my scalp. My hair is pulled back in a sharp ponytail, and I’ve gone all goth with my makeup with thick black liner and mascara and my signature red lips. The few vodka cranberries I’ve enjoyed before my friends arrived have taken the edge off, but I’m still in control, and that’s important because I want to be firing on all cylinders tonight.
A topless waitress steps forward carrying a tray of drug baggies. My mouth turns dry as my eyes fixate on the branding etched on the front of the small plastic bags. It’s The Sainthood’s signature branding, the same drawing that members have inked on their skin—a dark circle with a burning cross in the center.
Senior members get the symbol inked on their chests once they attain full membership, while junior members are branded on their backs. A shiver works its way through me as I stare at the bag. On the bottom of the infamous symbol it reads Lowell Chapter in capital letters, and my skin crawls at the confirmation The Sainthood has moved into town and intends to stay.
“With the compliments of The Sainthood,” the pretty girl says, blatantly eye-fucking Emmett from head to toe.
The Sainthood isn’t pulling any punches tonight. They are making sure every person at school is locked down tight, and in a couple of strategic moves, they’ve wiped the board with Finn and his paltry opposition.
Controlling the drug trade at Lowell High is a smart move, but Lowell Academy is a loftier prize, and owning the streets is where the real money is made. I’m guessing they’ll be making moves to go after that turf as well.
We might as well avail of the free weed, so I grab the entire contents from the tray, distributing the bags among us. I stuff a bunch right down the front of my dress, concealing them behind the tight leather.
“You can’t—” the girl starts to say, shooting daggers at me.
“This is my house, so I think you’ll find that I can, and I just have.” My stare dares her to challenge me, and she instantly backs down.
Emmett chuckles as we walk past her toward the living room. “I think your sass turned her on. Her nipples went rock hard when you challenged her.”
I roll my eyes, scoffing. “Don’t play dumb, Emmett. We both know you’re the one who creamed her panties and turned her nipples hard.”
He laughs, sliding his arm around my shoulders, as we step into the den of iniquity, formerly known as our living room.
“Ho. Lee. Shit.” Sean’s eyes pop wide as we stop at the entrance to the room to take it all in.
“This is hardcore,” Sariah admits, shaking her head in disbelief as she looks around.
“They had people here all day transforming the place.” All the overhead chandeliers have been draped in red and black coverings, casting a garish glow over the proceedings below. The gray walls are concealed behind tall black and red freestanding panels that rim the room on all sides.
Mom’s furniture has been moved out to make way for modern black and red leather couches grouped around low, glossy black coffee tables with ornate floral centerpieces and buckets of beer and vodka on each table. All the couches are positioned around the sides of the room, leaving the middle of the space free. Music thumps from mobile speakers in the four corners of the room, and a teeming crowd jumps around the makeshift dance floor.
The scent of weed is strong, and everyone in the room is high even if they’re not smoking it.
More semi-naked girls man the temporary bar set up at the top of the room, and hordes of horny male seniors, with obvious hard-ons, crowd the space, ogling the girls. At a separate counter off to one side, our classmates line up to snort complimentary lines of coke.
I smoke weed on occasion, but I steer clear of other drugs because that shit messes with your head, and my head’s fucked up enough as it is.
Our fellow seniors are idiots. Falling into the trap like gullible fools.
After tonight, the guys have Lowell High sewn up tighter than a nun’s panties.
After tonight, the guys will reign supreme.
And I fucking hate how easy everyone made it for them.
“Fuck me.” Sariah stares at me like this is insane.
And it damn well is.
None of our usual parties come even close to matching up.
“Oh, you haven’t seen the worst of it yet,” I add, gesturing them forward. We move across the room, stepping over writhing couples and avoiding flailing limbs as we circle the outside of the dance floor. I grab us some vodka shots from the bar before we pass out into the back hallway, leading to the game room at the rear of the house.
