Page 2 of Unveil
“Luna, d-do you know who those other p-people are?” Lucy asks in her barely-there southern accent as she squeezes underneath me to eavesdrop with the rest of us. Stutter, disobeying rules,andan accent? She must bereallyanxious.
“No clue,” I answer.
“What’re they talking about?” Brylie asks in her own light southern and Italian accent, her green eyes as confused as ours.
I shrug again. “How the heck should I know?”
“It’s your mom who’s doing most of the shouting.” Her eyes dart from me to Nox.
“You know what? No. This is bullshit!” Aunt Tallie, Brylie’s mom, hisses like a snake. “This was at McKennon Casino, wasn’t it? Why the hell didn’t you just cheat?”
I arch an eyebrow at Bry, who rolls her eyes. She’s my best friend, but she’s so dang prickly. That’s how Antonia Rosalee got her first nickname, ‘Briar Lee,’ when we were kids. She’s thorny as a briar patch, and between Lucy’s speech impediment and our mess of accents, now we’ve got “Brylie.”
Lucy’s mom sighs. “Kian would never cheat in his own casino… no matter howcrazythe bet.”
“If I may…” a man starts.
“No, you may not,” Aunt Tallie growls.
“Dolcezza…” Brylie’s dad murmurs, almost too low to hear.
“Please, Talia, everyone…” a woman begs softly, and my ears perk up. “Once we explain, you’ll understand.”
“Fine, Queenie,” Tallie snaps. “Go ahead. Explain how these fools gambled our daughters’ lives away.”
A sudden, loud bubblegum pop draws my eyes to three boys sitting in the auditorium seats, stage left.
One is sitting up straight, his tanned cheeks aglow with the light of his bright tablet. The boy in the middle looks younger, maybe Lucy’s age, around ten. He’s got a wild mess of black hair flopping into his eyes as he lounges across several seats, a sketchbook propped on one splayed leg. And the third boy…
A scowl clouds his face as he rests his arms over the back of the seat in front of him, flicking a pocketknife open and closed.
Aknife.
How creepy is that?
The other boys seem to be paying serious attention to anything besides the argument in box five. And the third one stares right at my hiding place. Atme.
My fingers clutch the curtain to close it, but the rest of me can’t move. I’m stuck staring back at him as the man who must be his father begins to speak.
“‘Gambling lives away’ is a nasty way to put it. Arranged marriage is much more civilized.”
Momma scoffs. “Civilized? You’re one to talk, King Fury. Everyone back in Appalachia knows about the Wilde and Fury families. How is a Capulet-and-Montague-style feud remotely civilized?”
King? And Tallie called the woman “Queenie.” Are those their real names?
Cool. Weird… but cool.
“Great question,ma muse,”my dad says to my mom. “And why the fuck would we sacrifice our daughters to save a family of criminals?”
The man’s easy voice turns cold.“Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think? We’re all criminals. Powerful ones. That’s why I chose your families when I made the bet. I knew this day would come. The Furys are infighting. The Wildes are gaining ground. The King Fury branch needs alliances and all the muscle we can get to keep everyone in line, and most importantly,safe. Weneedthe Troisgarde.”
Troy-guard. He actually pronounced it right. Momma says even though it’s a made-up word, it’s the Louisiana French way of saying it, like how Calliope Street is “Kal-ee-oh-pee” around here. Our three families use the name because we like each other… or something. I don’t know. There’s more to it, but Nox is the one who wants to follow in the “Phantom of the French Quarter’s” footsteps. They tried to teach me all that boring stuff, but I’d rather dance.
“Is this real?” Benoit scoffs. “It sounds likeRaymonda.”
The ballet we did last summer had fun costumes and choreography, but the story of a rich guy kidnapping a girl who’s already engaged felt make-believe. Until now.
“They can’t really be talking about marrying you off,” Nox mumbles behind me. “Over my dead body.” He crosses his arms like Daddy does when he says the same thing.
