“No!” my father abruptly says. “Do not antagonize the Pavones. Not until we know what they’re up to. Keep an eye on her. I’ll have somebody look into it too. Keep me apprised of any new developments.”
I breathe a small sigh of relief. “All right.”
I wait for my father to say something else, but it’s the end of the conversation, and he hangs up without so much as a goodbye. I’m used to it, but I still hate that I wait, lingering on the phone, until I realize he’s hung up.
I throw the phone onto my bed and growl in frustration.
Keep an eye on her.
Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll do that, starting with finding out what the fuck River knows. Maybe beating it out of him, or snapping off another one of his fingers, until he admits what they’re up to.
He’d been great in the hunt, I can admit that, but I’m not going to trust him.
I open my bedroom door to head down to the party, maybe to get drunk and smash somebody’s head in.
I stop when I see Asch standing opposite the door.
“Hey,” he says.
I know him well enough to know he’s trying to hide his concern. With anyone else, it might have even worked.
He’s holding two red cups, and he holds one of them up to me. “Rum and coke,” he tells me. “Thought you might want a drink.”
I take the cup gratefully and chug half of it in one go. It’s more rum than coke, and it burns as it goes down my throat.
“You know me so well,” I say to Asch with a smile. “All right. Who survived hell week? River did, and I saw you with Franklin. Did Peyton? I kept hoping he’d drop out, but he got through all the other shit.”
“Nine of them, including Peyton,” Asch replies, taking a sip of his own drink. I wonder if it’s as laden with booze as mine is, but it probably isn’t. He’s never been a heavy drinker, always stopping just shy of getting more than a buzz.
He only bothers with a splash of liquor here and there to keep up appearances. We’ve never talked about it, but even before his own hell week had included so much liquor I’d thought he might have alcohol poisoning, he’d never been a big drinker.
“Fucking Peyton,” I say. “Well, he might still drop out before we accept it. If we keep being dicks to him.”
It’s not Peyton I want to be a dick to.
It’s not Peyton’s fingers I want to snap.
I go stand against the wall next to Asch, tapping my red cup against his. “How come you didn’t join us for the fun part of hell week? I would have gotten you out of party setup duty.”
Asch starts to say something, and I recognize the stubborn glint in his eyes. “They already think I’m your bitch,” he says, and while his voice is mild, I notice the tension in his shoulders. “Anyway, how was it?”
I take another gulp from my cup. The rum settles warmly in my stomach. “It was good. I tailed River. He almost got a girl, but she escaped by climbing up a fucking tree. She looked terrified, clinging to the tree like two branches up. I could have grabbed her ankle and pulled her down, but I figured I’d leave the easy prey to somebody else.”
“Of course you did,” he says, shaking his head. “Which Nyxie did River get? Or did you not even bother to get her name?”
I shake my head. “Wasn’t a Nyxie. Pandora got in the way. I don’tknow what the fuck she was doing there, but… eh, a cunt’s a cunt. River and I spitroasted her.”
I watch Asch carefully when I say it.
If I hadn’t been, I’d have missed the way he tenses, and as it is, I’m not sure what he’s thinking.
“Asch?” I ask cautiously.
“I’m glad you got to fuck her again,” he says, his voice neutral in the way that means he’s anything but. “And that she didn’t stab you.” He tries for a smirk, but he doesn’t manage it.
“Yeah,” I agree. I stare into my cup and swirl the rum around. “You should probably stay away from her.”
“Me?” he asks, the neutrality dropping in favor of blatant disbelief. “I’mthe one who should stay away from her? You just fucked her with Rivera, and you’re warningmeaway from her?”
