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I didn’t have long left. They say you could feel the shadow of death before it took you. And tonight, that shadow was here.
The book leaves my hands as if laced with poison. Anger streams down my face and no matter how many times I try to swipe the tears away, they return.
Oh no. No, not right now.
The quake of my shoulders turn violent as my lungs ache for air, but this particular panic is malignant. It holds no prisoners.
It can’t be. Surely not.
What the fuck is happening?
I hold my breath until I feel the slowing thud of my heart, balling my fists so tight I’m sure there are new marks on my palm.
There’s a knock on my door and my eyes pop open as I slide the book beneath my ass.
“What?” Tension leaves my body when Stella enters, a bottle of tequila dangling from between her fingers.
She beams a wide-toothed smile. “I thought we could warm up to the evening?”
“You mean you want to also talk.” I slide the book further as she kicks the door closed with her foot. She never knocks, but she must have known I was upset.
“Well, yes.”
Great. Of course, Stella chooses now to come and interrupt me. I can feel the book burning my cheeks the longer it sits there. “So, you and War have finally given in, huh?” She slides over my computer desk, shuffling the papers and photos around.
I don’t answer. The girls are good in the way that they’ve never pushed me.
She changes the subject like I knew she would. “You know that our glorious mothers have restarted that ancient-ass prestigious sorority house, right?” Her lips cover the top of the bottle as she takes a shot, leaving the stain of obsidian lipstick behind. “It has been one hundred sixty million years since it was running, so we kind of have a lot of work to do, but I have thiswhole idea, and River is on board too. But first, we have to sit down and think of a new name. And by we, I mean all of us. We need to find a gender-neutral name, and— Oh my God, we should—"
She loses me. The fraternity will be crazy. I’m not ready to touch on that. Stella is the girl we go to when we need to be told something straight. Somewhere in the DNA of Brantley and Saint, they managed to conjure this spitfire of a weapon who is terrifyingly smart and constantly minimized by the potency of her beauty.
She exhales, obviously picking up my drifting. “Halen, we need to talk about you and War.”
“We really don’t.” I wince.
“Or what about the fact that you released a sex tape out of spite. How about that?” The corner of her death-stained lips curves up a little.
My smile cracks, swinging my legs over the bed and quickly shoving the book farther beneath my pillow. I swipe up my phone. “No regrets.”
My door swings open again as River turns, slamming it closed with a huff. “Assholes.”
“Can we go back to the time where we had our own lives, away from them?” Stella ponders, the bottle of tequila hovering over three tumbler glasses. She pours equal amounts of 42 into each glass, and I take one, resting it against the skin of my chest where my gown splits.
“I think if I had known just how different it would be, I would have fucked more people,” I whisper through the sweet burn, and they both burst out laughing. There’s a reason why I love being around them. They’re my reminder to show up.
Even when I don’t want to.
River kicks off her Valentino heels, falling onto the bed and crossing her long legs. “My brother’s a cunt. There. I said it.”
My thumb catches Don Julio residue below my lip. “He is. But… he has a nice dick so I’m a little conflicted.”
“First, ew! Second, I don’t want to go to this dinner party tonight.”
I release a steady breath. “Neither do I.” The monthly dinner parties are traditional. It was one of the new implications our parents started when they took over. They’re not bad. It sometimes feels like a therapy session with family members. But then it’s not always good. It’s just that—a dinner party. Except for that one time Pop brought his mistress and Nanna stabbed her in the throat with her steak knife.
Because every new system that is brought in has to be carried through to every generation after, means these will continue with us too.
River’s phone starts blaring, and her smile slips when she sees the name on the screen. She is a replica of her mother. It’s creepy. They could almost pass as doppelgängers. Only River has ash blonde hair, and Tillie always keeps hers a shade of pink. We’ve been telling her to dye her hair for years.
