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“Maybe he’s just a twisted prince? Like that one from Game of Thrones,oh fuck,what was his name?”
“Joffrey?”
“Yeah! That fucker.”
She had a point. “Maybe. Power does go to your head.”
As we wound around another sharp curve in the road, the docks came into view and the thumping bass of music in the distance warred with Becca’s playlist in the car. She turned it down as we drove down and into a parking lot running along the water’s edge.
The pier was alive with a crush of people in the parking lot smoking and chatting. Others walked down the narrow planks out onto the water where the building perched on stilts loomed at the end.
It didn’t look as beat up as I thought it would. But I should have expected that. If it was too atrocious the students from Briar Hall wouldn’t dare go near it. As it was, the ‘docks’ seemed like they would be something of a novelty to them. Like rich folk who spent their weekdays in condos and their weekends ‘roughing it’ in cottages on the lake.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Becca said as she turned off the radio and parked.
I nodded. “Not bad.”
The rough plank exterior of the building was done up in swirls of graffiti. I thought I caught the signature fleur-de-lis tag of the Saints amidst the blocky letters and vulgar art. Discernible from the religious symbol by the elongated bottom, formed to look like a blade. There was anA,too. The gang tag used by the Aces. Though it’d been badly covered over in artwork.
Clearly this was disputed turf. Noted.
The whole roof was strung with hundreds of little lights on strings—the only light illuminating the area for miles save for the moon and flashlight beams on camera phones.
The music grew louder as we stepped out, the sound of it echoing off the lake making the bass reverberate in my breastbone. I only recognized a few faces from the school, the rest looked a bit older. Anywhere from late teens to late twenties seemed to be in attendance.
Thorn Valley didn’t seem a particularly large city though, and I was willing to bet there was very littlethisexciting happening here on any given Friday night.
Becca looped her arm through mine, taking my cell phone from my hand to pop it into her purse since I didn’t own one of my own. “I don’t see Bri’s car,” she said excitedly as we made our way to the dock leading out to the pier. “That’s a good sign.”
I hadn’t seen the Crows yet either.
Could it be that I might actually havefuntonight? A smile pricked at my lips as we waded into the sea of bodies walking the plank.
The floor shook under our feet as we crossed into the large building and I instinctively put my arms out to stabilize myself.
Becca laughed at the expression on my face. “Trust me, it won’t fall,” she shouted over the music. “There’ll be twice this many people here within the hour. Then the floorreallyshakes.”
Jesus.
I let Becca drag me to an area to the right, weaving through dancing and chatting groups of people, many already piss drunk. The colorful strobing lights made their movements seem jerky and robotic with each flickering color change.
Despite the cool night air outside, it was fucking hot in here, and I was glad I’d accepted the dress from Becca instead of wearing the jeans and long sleeve I’d planned to.
She swiped a red cup off a stack from a table, and I snatched it from her, eyeing the punch bowl with horror. I could smell it from here. Artificial sweetener and way too much booze and likely a whole lot more than that.
It was wide open, ripe for drugging.
“You’re not seriously going to drink that, are you?”
She cocked her head at me, smirking as she drew a mickey of gin out of her bag. “I’m not drinking at all,” she said, pushing the gin and cup into my hand as she drew a joint out from between her tits. “And if I were, do you really think I’m stupid enough to drinkthat?”
No, I thought, a bit guiltily. I really didn’t think she was that stupid. I gave her an apologetic grimace, and she bumped my shoulder with a smile, lighting up her joint to take a long drag.
“Don’t worry about it. The punch is probably safe, anyway. This is Crow territory. No one would dare roofie the punch unless they wanted their eyeballs used as ice cubes in Rook’s bourbon. But still,” she shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”
I grimaced, able to vividly imagine Rook poking out eyeballs with a skewer after hearing the screams from their shed last night.Ugh.
Biting my lower lip, I considered the gin and cup before handing them back to her. If the Crows were here after all, then I should tread lightly.
