Page 7

Chapter Seven

Jolie

Sinclair, Danika, Joshua, and Jimmie arrive at the party together. Big Dan, the security guy I met earlier, lets them through easily when I flaunt him my barely there red bikini that peeks out from under my loose-fitting summer dress.

Danika is talking nonstop about how excited she is, in contrast to Joshua, who hasn’t said anything, but his eyes bug out of his head every time a half-naked girl walks past.

Sinclair looks sexy as fuck in her pink bikini, her long strawberry blonde hair falling past her shoulders in large curls. Jimmie just looks like Jimmie, or how I pictured he would look, wearing an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt along with fluro-green board shorts.

We find the stereo system first, and I reprogram it to stop playing the depressing music the guys have chosen. It’s supposed to be a party, not a rock concert.

“Go have fun,” I say to Danika. She shrieks, pulling poor Joshua along with her. “Want to find the drinks?” I ask the others over the current rock song playing; how the lead singer still has a voice blows my mind.

They nod and we make our way through the crowd. Sinclair bumps into a friend on the way, so I tell her to have fun and find me if she needs anything. Jimmie dances his way onto a makeshift dance floor, and I stand and watch for a minute. I wave, and as he waves back, I head off to the kitchen.

Red Solo cups are stacked on the kitchen island; I take one and move across to where the spirits are lined up. Spying the tequila, I pour a decent shot and throw it back—the liquid lines my throat, the burn welcome. I repeat the process, even though I know no matter how much I consume, nothing more than the burn will happen. I just don’t get drunk. I have tried, but just as I start to think I feel something, it vanishes.

The squeak of footsteps on the wet floor alerts me that someone is behind me.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” a deep voice says.

I spin around, noting that the guy is good-looking in a preppy sort of way, his golden blonde hair styled to perfection, his body ripped.

“And what a shame that has been.” He doesn’t pick up on my sarcasm.

I turn back to the bench, brushing him off—one thing players hate is being ignored.

A strong Jack Daniels will get me in the mood. I pour the amber liquid into my red cup, adding some ice cubes from a bucket in the sink. I can feel Mr Preppy’s eyes following me around the kitchen.

“Where did you come from?” he asks, stepping up close to my back.

“From here. I live here at the Myers house.”

His body goes rigid for a split second, which makes me think he and Boston must have some kind of beef.

“Want to go out by the pool?” The damn fool smiles like a kid in a candy store.

“No,” I say, walking away. “Maybe find me later,” I throw over my shoulder.

One thing I have never been able to explain is my strong sixth sense. Feeling their glares stab me in the side, I struggle to ignore the urge to turn and acknowledge them.

I have felt it all week, their eyes following me, and it gives me an overwhelming sense of security. Which is stupid—I don’t know them, and I’m still on the fence as to if I even like them. I sure as shit don’t trust them.

Shrieks of laughter fill the air, girls running from guys with water guns.

I wander around the party. I haven’t bothered to attend one in a very long time—what’s the point? Half-naked girls trying to get a boy’s attention, drunk boys becoming predators. To top it off, every time I try to get some kind of buzz going, it doesn’t even last that long. I swear I must have a super metabolism that soaks up the alcohol as soon as I drink it. Who am I kidding? I still love to party because what else is there to do other than try to kill myself with alcohol poisoning in an attempt to get my stupid ass drunk?

An hour passes and people watching becomes boring. The Gods sit in their corner, half-naked girls vying for their attention. Laughn is the only one without a girl perched on his lap. Instead, his pet for today is seated on the ground beside him, wearing a bikini and a dog collar with big, studded spikes. I don’t see the appeal or what she gets out of it, but she isn’t being held against her will, so whatever kink floats her boat is okay with me.

Boston’s ice-blue eyes meet mine. A grin pulls at his lips as his hand wraps around his lap-girl’s waist, and she leans back into him. He whispers something in her ear and she giggles. Laughn motions for me to join them, but I shake my head, taking a sip of whatever concoction Jimmie made me the last time I passed him and the group of guys he knows from school. I look towards the others. Marlow seems oblivious to what’s going on, leaning back in the expensive sun lounge, a girl straddling his lap reverse cowgirl.

The same girl from the first party is curled up in Case’s lap, and her friend sits between Davis’s legs. I shake my head at them; they should have run and never returned after the last party.

“Body shots!” someone screams, drawing out the second word.

Looking to my left, I spot Danika waving a bottle of tequila in the air.

“Jolie, get your ass over here.”

I laugh and head towards her and Joshua, the poor guy still looking lost by her side.

Danika instructs me to remove my dress and lie back on the table. She lifts the tequila bottle and pours it into my belly button until it overflows, holds out a lime to wedge between my teeth, then starts shaking salt everywhere.

“Looks like we meet again,” Mr Preppy says.

With a few drinks under my belt—because the only way to keep a damn buzz is to keep drinking—he doesn’t look so bad.

Danika shouts “go,” prompting Mr Preppy to lick some salt from between my breasts and suck the liquid from my navel. A tingle sends a shiver over my body as his mouth goes to take the lime, his lips lingering on mine a few seconds longer than necessary. Long enough to hear a bottle smash. I open my eyes and see Laughn has moved closer, murder in his eyes.

Danika looks up at him and down at the bottle she just dropped. “Oops,” she squeaks, a blush covering her skin.

She scurries back a few steps, joining Joshua and Sinclair. Jimmie is even looking on from behind them—no one is game to move.

“Get up,” Boston demands, coming to stand beside Laughn.

I sit up, sliding my body from the table. The other Gods have now joined us, besides Marlow, who remains oblivious to the drama.

“Don’t start with this whole ‘you represent my family’ bullshit. I don’t care,” I state, my hands resting on my hips. I can feel Case staring at my body, but I ignore him.

“Baby,” Laughn starts, but I cut him off.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me! I was having fun. I’m sorry if that pisses you off, but I haven’t had fun in a long-ass time and then you come and ruin it.”

“You call his lips on yours fun?” Davis asks. It doesn’t sound like he’s being sarcastic; it comes across as a genuine question.

“Maybe I do, and if you don’t let me have fun with my friends, then I might just decide to stick his dick near these lips and see how you feel about that.”

I have zero intention of sleeping with that guy—well, unless these dickheads piss me off enough that I do it out of spite—because I’m supposed to be seducing them. After all, I have a bet to win.

“Like fuck you will,” Laughn seethes. “Unless you want to be responsible for his death.”

Laughn reaches out to grab me, but I duck, moving in closer to him. Once I’m in position, I jump up, poke him in the eye, kick him in the groin, then turn and run.

“Run, run as fast as you can,” he yells.

Dread washes over me; it can’t be a coincidence. I’m positive it was them who kidnapped me and chased me through the damn bush—but why? Not only does this bet help me get laid, but it might also lead me to the answers to my questions.

“I ain’t no fucking gingerbread man,” I call out. Just so they know I remember what I said that night, if it was them who chased me. I plan to do whatever it takes to bring them all to their knees, then I will get answers.

I run as quickly as my legs will take me around the side of the house. A large arm grabs me and covers my mouth before I have a chance to scream.

“It’s just me. Don’t scream, I will help you.” I nod and he lets go. I turn to face Marlow, and while it’s super dark, I can still make out his large frame. “Come, we can hide out.”

He leads me to a side entrance of the house, mumbling something about servants and a laundry room that leads to the roof.

After a quick dash up a couple flights of stairs, Marlow opens up a door and I hurry through, gasping at the sight; the roof is like a mini garden. “This is so nice!”

“Yeah, Petra likes to grow her own herbs and shit. I come up here to escape,” he says, pulling over a couple of chairs.

I take a seat beside him and look up at the stars. “He’s going to find me, isn’t he?”

“Laughn is relentless. If he wants to find you, then you will be found,” he says, lighting up a joint and inhaling. He then holds it towards me.

“Don’t waste it. I don’t stay buzzed long enough to blow it on me.”

Marlow, still in his chair, turns his head to look at me, his brow creased like he’s trying to figure something out in his head.

“Just try it. It’s good shit.”

I take the joint just to humour him, but it’s his loss. I will feel a slight buzz in the moment, but by the time I hand it back... poof, gone.

I inhale the smoke into my lungs, a cough ripping through my throat, and Marlow laughs. “My brother is a bomb-ass scientist, and he created this specifically for those of us who have a high tolerance.”

My fingers start to tingle, and I hold them above my head, wiggling them back and forth.

“Holy cow, this is what it feels like to be wasted.”

I stand from my seat and walk towards Marlow, his hooded eyes watching me curiously. He doesn’t stop me when I straddle his lap, one of his hands rising to rest on my hip, and he groans when I slide myself closer. He sucks in a big lungful of smoke and leans his head towards mine, blowing the second-hand smoke into my mouth. My body naturally moves closer to him, his hand still tightly gripping my hip.

I feel tingles running over all my nerve endings and my body floats like I’m made of clouds. The base of the music pumps through the air. I stand from his lap and move my body to the song.

“This is how I want to die, feeling free,” I say.

Girly squeals fill the air when “Take You Dancing” by Jason Derulo comes over the sound system, and I giggle when I realise those squeals are from me.

“I’ve got to go, thanks for the... whatever that is.” Another giggle escapes me before I have a chance to stop it—though I don’t know if I would have stopped it even if I could.

I race down the stairs and back to the dance floor, my body taking over and my hips swaying to the music. I’m aware that Sinclair and Danika join me as I let go, and the lights move around me to the beat.

When the song finishes, I hear someone whisper that the Gods left the party abruptly, and I smile. Does that mean I’m free of their watchful glares? “Sweet but Psycho” by Ava Max filters through my ears as large hands run down my sides, and I figure Marlow must have come to join me. Him, or someone else that smells edible. Either way, I feel his body move as one with mine.

“Let’s go skinny dipping,” I scream. Something I normally wouldn’t do. Oh well, YOLO got me kidnapped last time, but that led me here, so let’s see where my next adventure takes me.