Page 49 of Raven

I wish we could talk about Italy and the vacations we used to take when I was a kid.

I wish we could talk about Mom, though he rarely did, because he suspected that the car crash she died in wasn’t accidental and blamed himself, and my own memories of her are vague, because I was only ten.

I wish we could go fishing on a river, just the two of us, or with some older locals, not a single bodyguard in sight. That used to be a thing when I was little—less security.

The memories are distant. We used to do a lot of things together before his business started growing fast and more dangerous. Before I went to high school in the States, because it was “safer.” Before talking to him became a burden. Before I grew old enough to be an asset, and he decided he could freely decide my own future.

That’s what Raven is doing, though he doesn’t realize it. He thinks he can bargain with me about my own life. I let him. What I didn’t sign up for was being disrespected. I didn’t sign up to be one of the “girls.”

So, I’m going to make sure he gets a taste of his own medicine.

19

MADDY

Seeing Ty in board shorts and an unbuttoned white beach shirt is like seeing a surfer boy transform into a New England one, if you know what I mean. His blond shoulder-length hair, perfect tan, and white smile are the same as they were on the Eastside, but the hut he used to share with others is a far cry from the two-floor villa he now shares with Dani and his sister Ray-Ray after he got his inheritance settled.

His arms wrap around me in greeting when I walk out onto the pool deck of his villa.

“Maddy, Maddy, Maddy!” he chants excitedly, already a bit tipsy and happy, as he picks me up from the floor and spins me around. “The hell you’ve been? I barely ever see you.”

I laugh, happy to be around the people I know and dozens I only know from their medical files.

The pool deck is packed. The DJ is playing house music. Someone is making cocktails at the deck bar. Many are swimming.

There’s Kai and Callie, Guff, Owen and Ya-Ya, and the rest of our Outcast crew.

“Bo is coming after work,” Ty says, already pushing a cocktail into my hand as we walk to the others spread on multiple sunbeds around a small table.

The Elites are in their own small circles. I get it. Despite the fight that put the Outcasts on the Eastside, they all used to be friends. Since Archer is done with his binging and his war with Kai is over, it’s as if their friendship finally healed the rest of us.

I notice Sonny “Little” in the pool with several Elites.

When I asked about the occasion for such a big party, Ty simply said, “A Hurricane Party.”

See, on the Eastside, we used to get ready for the hurricanes with grim awareness. Sure, we tried to cheer each other up, but living on a beach during a hurricane can be dangerous. Hell, it can be deadly.

Here, the heavy storm clouds above us that are almost a constant in the last weeks despite the usual heat are a reason for a celebration. When the hurricane passes, there will be another one, I’m sure.

These occasional parties bring back memories. I used to be the center of attention. Now I stay in the shadows.

So, when everyone starts doing Cherry Bombs, I know I should skip. But I really want to let loose.

And so I do. Down one. And then another one. Ty laughs and jokes about the Eastside and fishing for lobsters, and we all start talking about how we used to be. Someone passes me another cocktail, and of course I drink it.

Dammit.

I shouldn’t, but it feels so good.

A young waiter, a local barely fifteen, brings a tray of shots. Callie jokes when she passes them around. My eyes skim over the waiter when I catch his intense stare.

He casts his gaze down, then smiles to himself. For a second, I think he is trying to flirt, except another scenario suddenly runs through my mind, making my blood chill.

He walks away. I watch him, something in my mind not sitting right. But instead of taking the empty tray to the bar, he holds it in his hands, clasped behind his back, and scans the pool area as if searching for someone.

“Bottoms up, dude!” Guff nudges me.

I throw back the sweet shot. When I look across the swimming pool deck, that same waiter is exactly where he stood a minute ago, his eyes on me again.

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