Page 22 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

Merciless and merciful. Wild and broken.

He’s a raging fire, with the inclination to destroy whatever gets in his path, and I’m nothing but a small scrap of kindling. Yet the way he stares at me with such reverence, makes me feel like I’m the one holding the match.

Like I’m the one with the power to command something as untamable as a flame.

12

Dylan

Three years ago …

I sit on the picnic table with a vape pen dangling from my fingertips, watching the other girls play basketball on the adjacent court. A tap of my shoulder, and I glance down to Amy who flicks her fingers, wanting a drag.

A couple months back, the two of us got stuck together for laundry duty. Admittedly, she’s a breath of fresh air, amongst all the other girls at the Ranch who like to kiss Muriel Kestral’s ass.

“You need to buy your own fucking smokes,” I snap at her, handing the e-cig off.

“If I suck Winters off, it’s gonna be for more than a fake fucking cigarette.” She inhales a long drag, blows the smoke, and immediately sucks in another. “Asshole wreaks like cheese and tobacco.”

A burst of laughter beats through my chest as I snag the pen from her and lean back, tipping my head toward the late spring sun. “Sex is power, Amy. It’s how you climb the ladder. How you get what you need in life.”

“Yeah, and here we are. Shangri-fucking-La.”

“Lost Horizon. James Hilton.” We have this game, Amy and me, that helps pass the time down in the laundry room. She likes to toss out scenes and quotes from books or movies and I have to guess them.

Another thing we have in common.

“Wrong. Call of Duty. Zombies map.”

I tip my head forward and frown. “I told you, your stupid video games don’t count.”

“Why not smoke an actual cigarette? What the fuck is e-juice anyway? Sounds like something they hand out in some fancy preschool. Shit tastes like flowers.”

“Yeah well, beggars can’t be choosers. And I’d rather not smell like a dirty ashtray.”

“How’d you get a pen? Winters ask you to put a horse plug in his ass?” She snorts a laugh, resting her elbows back on the picnic table.

“Stole it from my foster mom.” A figure off in the distance seizes my attention, and my muscles lock up, as he casually strolls alongside Muriel Kestral like a funeral procession through the adjacent courtyard, eyeing me through the fence. Dressed in a black suit and red tie, with flecks of gray in his hair and beard, he reminds me of some kind of mafia Don.

I nod my head toward him. “Who is that?”

Amy cranes her neck and lets out a huff. “That would be the asshole who makes sure this place doesn’t skip out on its mortgage payments.”

“He works for the bank or something?”

“He is the bank. For this place, anyway.” Amy had office duty prior to being shipped down to the laundry room. She spent her afternoons filing shit for Muriel, getting her coffee, acting as her own personal secretary. No doubt, it was her nosey nature that got her kicked out and put on sheets and towels with me. “He funds a lot of the stuff we have here. I think he plays a part in placement, too. I heard him talking to Muriel about Skye a couple weeks back. Said he had a good home for her.”

“Oh yeah? Any word on placement for me? Kestral told me she found some long lost aunt of mine. Didn’t even know I had an aunt. Be nice if I could just settle in somewhere for a while. Hate having to come back to this shithole every time I get kicked out.”

“What the hell? I’m not entertaining enough for you?”

I chuckle at that and hand her the last few drags of my cig. “You’re a blast. I just don’t like someone watching every time I take a piss, is all.”

“You never did tell me what happened at the last place. Why’d they kick you out?”

“Apparently my foster mother didn’t appreciate seeing her husband’s dick in my mouth. Which was totally my fault. Because I love nasty, shriveled-up dick before breakfast.”

Amy leans forward and her crazy laugh that sounds like a donkey dying brings a smile to my face. “The hell’s wrong with you, Dylan? Haven’t you learned? It’s always our fault. We’re shiny new toys sent to tempt these poor, neglected old men who can’t get it up for their wives anymore.” She shakes her head and puffs the last of the cartridge. “Viagra’s so much cheaper.”