Page 25 of The Order of Disorder
I stare at the cut, my heart thudding in my ears, wondering what any of it means.
“Hey,” says Rox, tossing a towel at me to get my attention. “Let’s go get showers.”
“Yeah,” I say, blinking hard and shaking my head like that’ll help me snap out of it. I can’t afford to spiral out over Wyatt. Not now. Now when I don’t know how much time I’ve bought myself away from Billy, or what it’s going to cost. I pick up the towel and follow Rox to the shared washroom, savoring the one mercy of the morning: that she forgot my collar.
I’m reading an old fashion magazine on Rox’s bed, swinging my feet in the air, when there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in,” barks Rox from the chair near the wall, where she’s carefully combing out her long, wet hair.
Peach bursts in all smiles, dressed in a pink bikini top and matching shorts. I don’t think I imagine the flicker of surprise on her face when she sees me, but it passes fast.
“Sun’s out, sluts,” she quips, grinning. “Let’s get those tits outside!”
Rox laughs. “Sure, why not?” She gathers some essentials—sunglasses, lip balm, magazines, weed—and then makes a show of deferentially collaring me.
“May I, ma’am?” she asks, clipping the leash onto my collar and then bowing.
We walk through the hangar and cross the lot together, like three girls skipping out of school, and I can’t shake the feeling that at any moment Billy is going to come running after us to drag me back inside—or worse, Silas. I haven’t been outdoors in at least five weeks. The heat of the sun on my arms, and the looseness of Rox’s grip on the leash is heady and exhilarating.
A lot has changed at the club since the last time I was here. The club itself is bigger. There are more people around than there ever were before, unfamiliar and somehow tougher looking. Billy himself seems more wound up than ever, slightly more manic. A shade more unhinged. And the actual property has changed. New low wooden buildings have been erected out back of the hangar—a kind of barracks, it looks like. And by the entrance, closer to the road, is a new, two-story brick building. That’s where Rox leads me now.
We duck through the door and pass through a storage area littered with tires and greasy tools, then up a narrow stairwell to a small loft-like attic, where Peach pushes open a window and climbs out onto a low half-roof.
The space has two warped chaise lounges, a mattress pad draped with a towel, a milk crate doubling as a table with an overflowing ashtray and an empty soda can on top.
Peach claims the mattress. Rox and I take the chairs. I pull my tank up over my stomach. I don’t have a bra on, but I want the sun.
Rox tosses me a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses, then she pulls out a portable speaker and a baggie. Peach syncs her phone, and soon music is rolling across the rooftop. Rox sparks a joint and hands it to Peach.
It’s so normal it feels alien.
The collar pinches when I move to take the joint, a reminder that I’m not really one of them. I don’t belong here. But the sun feels so good soaking into my skin, and makes my limbs feel loose. It feels like I’ve wandered into an afternoon in someone else’s life, and I just try to enjoy the moment while it lasts.
“Tell me about your night,” Rox says to Peach, passing her the joint. “Was it fun?”
“Oh my god,” Peach says, taking a hit and grinning wickedly. “It was good. Like, holy-fuck good. Billy’s a freak in the best possible way. He made me beg for it.”
“Ooh,” Rox says with a little smirk. “Damn. That’s hot, though.”
“Like, fucking hot.” Peach nods. “I can’t even sit down today.”
“Crazy,” Rox replies, rapt.
Peach hands the joint to me, then hesitates. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be, like…” She grimaces.
“It’s okay,” I say, taking it. “Trust me, I don’t care.”
Peach exhales with relief. “Okay, good. Because that man is fucking feral.” She turns back to Rox. “I think I saw God.”
Rox laughs. I take a long pull and blow the smoke out in a slow, even stream. Then I pass the joint back and tilt my head to the sun. The heat pushes against my eyelids. The world feels soft at the edges.
I wait for that same oblivion that pulled me under last night while Peach recounts intimate details about Billy to Rox.
I’ve been with Billy since I was…well, probably too young to lose my virginity, and he’s fucked dozens of women since we’ve been together. But I’ve never heard anyone describe him like this—the way his cock curves to the right, or the positions he likes. Instead of being offended, I’m curious and amused, and I find myself smiling slightly as I listen to Peach talk.
But eventually, something else catches her attention. I open my eyes when she props herself up on her elbows and squints through the sun.
“Ooh, boys,” she says. “Who’s that with the clipboard?”
