Alex didn’t go to her, but back to the two guys he’d ridden in with, slapping their shoulders and laughing. Evie had never seen them before. She was starting to feel like it was a mistake, coming here. The only person she could talk to was Réal, and she wasn’t even sure that was a good idea, by the look on Sunny’s face.
Someone came up beside her, putting a sweaty arm around her neck. “Hey, I know you,” he slurred happily, breath stinking. “You went out with that dead guy.”
Evie threw him a withering scowl. “He wasn’t dead when I dated him,” she muttered, trying to shrug his arm off.
“Duh,” he said, laughing. Then he pushed the red cup in his hand at her. “Here. You look like you could use this.”
She took it. Inside was something black. She sniffed it. Cola. And booze probably. She accepted it, and he wandered off, grinning.
She had every intention of dumping it in the grass, but it occurred to her that, at least for appearances, she should have something in her hands. Being the only person here not drinking would just invite more sloppy arms around her neck, more red cups pushed at her chest. She held it like a talisman to ward off others but didn’t take a sip.
“You okay?”
Réal was beside her, like he’d always been there. “Yeah,” she said, nodding, glad.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, looking over the crowd. It had filled out even more since they’d arrived. Theirs was the only high school for three towns, and the grad class was pretty big. Plus there were all those other guys, the ones Alex was with. He’d said he wanted this party to be epic, and it looked like he was getting his wish.
“So they really are bikers, huh?” she asked in a low voice. It felt like something to be whispered, even here, where it seemed like everyone knew. Ré nodded, sipping his beer. She said, “But what does that even mean?”
Réal thought about it. “It’s a brotherhood, mostly,” he said. “They have each other’s backs, no matter what.”
“But how does that make Alex so rich?” She looked around at the rolling property, the barn and the big house behind it. It was hard to understand why Alex even hung out with kids from the east side when he had all this. All those nights in Nan’s tiny front room. It was like a dirty shoe box compared to this place.
“They sell drugs,” Ré said, voice flat. “But I wouldn’t mention it, if I were you.”
“Holy shit!” she hissed, eyes wide.
He glanced at her sharply. “Seriously, Ev. Don’t mention it. These guys don’t fuck around. This isn’t TV.”
Evie zipped her lips. Pictures of Charlie Hunnam flashed through her brain, despite Ré’s words. But this wasn’t Sons of Anarchy. This was the family business—what Alex had told her he was destined for, that day in the cafeteria.
Of course, she’d met dealers before at school. Just punk kids selling dime bags and pills, mostly. She could hardly imagine the amount of weed you’d have to sell to get a place like this. Unless it wasn’t weed they dealt in.
A picture of those guys lurking on the back deck, their eyes sliding sideways with the Buick. Evie felt a rock sinking fast in her gut. For no other reason than nerves, she put the red cup to her lips. The moisture was welcome, her throat suddenly parched. And she was right, it was cola, but there wasn’t any booze in it, just sweet, syrupy fizz. Relieved, she took a bigger sip, letting it slide down her dry throat.
The music volume had swelled with the crowd. Kids pulled lawn chairs around the bright fire pit or sat on the lawn in small groups, the pounding bass keeping their words from Evie’s ears. Every once in a while the fire would pop and crack, shooting a hail of sparks into the night sky, and everyone would cheer.
This is just like any old bush party, she told herself, trying to relax. Trying not to think about Satan’s Own creeping at the edges. She’d been to dozens of bush parties. Bonfires in the fields at rural kids’ farms. Parties you had to hike half a mile in the dark to get to. Wet feet and wet asses, eaten alive by mosquitos and hedges full of thorns, broken bottles everywhere, everybody wasted, bloody fistfights, and girls’ shrill screams…
Yeah, she thought, red cup shaking in her hand. This party is just like that.
29
R
“What’s up, Sun?” Réal lifted his chin at her as she came through the dark.
The look on her face said this was the last place on earth she wanted to be. She threw a disdainful glance at the kids crowding the fire pit. “Fucking amateurs,” she spat. Then she turned back to Ré. “Where’d Evie go?”
He shrugged. “Bathroom, I guess?”
“So…” she said. “You and her, huh?”
Ré cleared his throat. He gave her a sideways glance but said nothing.
“Whatever, Ré, I really don’t care.” But she did, obviously. “You guys suit each other anyway. You’re both quiet and sneaky.”
“Sunny…” he started, searching for the right words. He was so bad at this. It was new territory, all of it. And no matter what Sunny might have thought, he wasn’t actually trying to hurt her.
His eyes darted around for Alex. Not finding him, he hissed between his teeth, “You know we could never be a thing.” He leaned in and spoke even lower. “You’re his girlfriend. He’s my buddy. We just…can’t.”
Sunny laughed, tipping her head back and letting out that cackle that crushed everything in its path. “You are so full of shit, Réal,” she said. “Shaun was your buddy too, in case you forgot. But that doesn’t seem to keep you away from his girlfriend.”
“Sunny, that’s different—”
“How?” She cut him off, her voice too loud. “How is it different?”
He growled at her like a guard dog through a
