Page 246 of The Wright Man

"I repeat," I said, glancing around. "What kind of debauchery are y'all dragging me into? Because no one has told me shit."

"That's the point," Tina sang. "Dress code was soft slutty, which you clearly followed. Proud of you, hoe. And the rest? That's a surprise."

"You know I hate surprises."

"Too bad, cause I love them." She revved the engine, grinning. "And I have too much free time and more money than sense."

"Jesus," I muttered.

"He riding shotgun," Ms. Reesie said, raising her tumbler.

The girls whooped again as Tina peeled off down the street, music already blasting. Some ridiculous ratchet anthem I couldn't even name filled the van as we took off, the bass rattling the windowless walls. Everyone started shouting lyrics, shaking flasks, and passing around gummy bears soaked in God-knows-what.

I sat back and let it happen. The noise. The chaos. The overwhelming scent of edge control and tequila. The heat of all this wild, fierce feminine energy vibrating around me like a shield.

Immediately, I felt like I could breathe.

I pulled out my phone, snapped a blurry, chaotic selfie—me laughing, Kia throwing up a peace sign, Bella mid-sip, Tina with her tongue out and one hand on the wheel—and sent it to Maleek.

Me: You said don't forget who I belong to... But I belong to my sisters too. Don't wait up.

We turned the corner, music still thumping, and headed straight toward the first stop on whatever ridiculous scavenger hunt Tina had cooked up.

God help this city. We were outside.

We pulled into the empty parking lot like we were about to commit a felony—and honestly, that wasn't far off.

It was hot as hell out, but Kia found us a shady spot beneath a half-dead oak tree, and we all piled out of the van. My forehead was already glistening, and my edges were trying to revolt, but Tina popped the trunk before I could complain and yanked out a massive, ridiculous-looking piñata.

Shaped exactly like Gavin's smug-ass head.

"Behold," she said, with the flair of a circus announcer. "The Piñata of Closure!"

I blinked. "You're joking."

"I never joke about pettiness," Tina replied solemnly. "Got it made by a friend I met in Tulum. She sells artisanal piñatas and also reads tarot cards naked under the full moon. Don't worry, she saged it."

I cracked up as she handed me a bedazzled aluminum bat, the words DROP DEAD, BITCH glittering down the handle in pink rhinestones. The piñata was already swaying from the tree Kia had somehow managed to rig it to with a bungee cord and what I swear was a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.

"What's in it?" I asked, testing the weight of the bat.

"Oh, just essentials," Tina said innocently. "Mini liquor bottles. Condoms. Lip gloss. Affirmation cards. A few quotes that may or may not have come from our group chat after you found out he was cheating."

Alicia snorted. "You forgot the petty part."

"Right," Tina said. "Petty affirmations."

"Like 'I hope he steps on a Lego barefoot' type affirmations?" I asked.

"No, like 'I hope his next girl never lets him nut again and gives bad head,'" Kia added sweetly.

I laughed until my stomach hurt.

"All yours, Angie," Tina said. "Say your piece."

I looked at the piñata. Looked at the bat. Rolled my shoulders back.

And swung.