Page 68 of Of Sinners & Salvation
“Who is it?” Manson’s voice calls from further inside the room. “Do we have a new member?”
“No, they’re here for pussy,” Annabel Lee says, turning and going into her room. The rest of us tromp in after her. She scoops up the fluffy grey kitten, who seems to have grown in the week we were gone, and deposits him in my arms. For once, he rubs his head on me like he actually likes me, then starts purring and making biscuits on my arm. I resist the urge to dance around like Heath and gloat. I thought the little bastard hated me, but he was just playing hard to get. He clearly secretly loves me, not just Saint.
“Mercy,” Manson bellows, jumping to his feet.
“Manson,” she squeals, throwing herself into his arms.
He gives her a bear hug and kisses the top of her head. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he says. “I was sure you were going to be disemboweled and left to die slowly.”
“And your head planted on a stake outside to warn off enemies,” Annabel Lee says.
“No, that was what you said,” Manson corrects, pulling back from the hug. “I said she’d be hung by her entrails.”
“Well, I’m glad my kidnapping provided you with so much entertainment,” Mercy says, rolling her eyes.
“You can’t blame us for considering all the possibilities,” Annabel Lee drawls, sinking to the floor in a puff of black crinkly crinoline. A circle of their friends sit around the rug, eating snacks and gossiping.
“Come on, join us,” Manson says. “You don’t have to be part of the community. Allies are welcome too. Vero’s straight.”
“I’m seriously reconsidering,” Ronique says, giving Saint a dirty look. “After seeing the options, I might have to switch teams.”
“Welcome to the dark side,” Annabel Lee says with an evil grin.
Mercy looks at us. “Would you mind? I haven’t seen them in almost a month. And… I want to learn the best ways to be supportive.” She keeps her eyes trained on me, so she won’t even hint at outing the other two.
“Of course,” I say. “Stay. Hang out, eat. Just no pussy.”
Her face reddens. “You’re a jerk.”
“Yeah, but I’m the jerk who eats your pussy, so you love me anyway.”
“I’ll stay too,” Heath says.
“Really?” she asks, her eyes widening.
“Yeah, really?” I ask, raising a brow.
He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? I’m bi and hungry, and they have French onion dip.”
“I’m going to get that put on a shirt for you,” I joke.
Manson claps his hands together, a giddy grin on his face. “Two new members. My dream of a gayer campus is coming true already.”
“Don’t you mean a more tolerant campus?” Ronique asks.
“Tom-ay-toes, tom-ah-toes,” he says, waving a hand dismissively before gracefully folding back down into the circle. They’re all drinking from dainty ceramic teacups with matching saucers, and a spread of finger sandwiches and various snacks of lesser refinement sits in the center.
Manson pats the spot beside him, and everyone shifts over to make room for Mercy and Heath. Heath takes her hand to help her sit, then keeps holding it.
Annabel Lee arches a brow and glances at me. “I see some changes happened on the road.”
“Not really,” I say. “She’s still my girlfriend.”
“And mine,” Heath says with a feral grin.
“And mine,” Saint growls.
Ronique shudders, and some of the others gape at us.
