“I think I have a couple of bandages in my purse for you to cover your nipples.”
Nat barks out a laugh.
“Oh, come on, Nat,” I croak. “You’re wearing a sleeping bag with a belt.”
“I like to keep warm,” she snaps right back. “You know, you’ve been a real bitch all night. Don’t think we won’t turn on you, Bishop. You’re not in charge of us anymore.”
Good going, Messenger, Chloe bleats. Remember the terms of our agreement? You’re not doing so hot. In the event you haven’t noticed, I don’t need to go racking up any new enemies.
“Good point.” I cringe because I happened to say that out loud.
“Hear that?” Lexy’s nostrils flair. “She just admitted defeat. Now, there’s something I never thought I’d see.”
You keep this up, and I’m going to kill you myself, Mess.
A tiny huff of laughter escapes me. I always did think you were saving the best for last.
I glance to Laken, and she shakes her head.
“Don’t even think about it, Chloe.”
Em pipes up, “And I will cut you. I’m not being cute either. I travel with an eight-inch blade in my purse. It’s so sharp, you’ll be bleeding out before you can figure out what just happened.”
“Lovely.” I link arms with Bree. “Let’s get inside before we lose the ditz.” I head over and latch onto Rory with my other arm. “My two best friends.”
The peanut gallery laughs, and Nat slaps me on the back. “You’re in rare form tonight. Let’s get Mess in and out of there. I say we round out the night at the banana hammock place across the street.”
“Believe me,” I say. “I’ve got something better planned.”
Inside, it smells like rotten pickles and despair. The sound of loud, raucous music fills the air, and Rory is already bopping to the beat. I can’t help but note my hair is matted on one side. It’s bad enough she’s been walking around Paragon with what looks like a full-blown tumbleweed on her head—no thanks to her inability to deal with my kinky curls—but it appears she has a bird’s nest sprouting up the side of it. Probably the Mustang’s fault.
It’s nearly wall-to-wall bodies—almost all male. A troupe of topless beauties waltzes around with trays of appetizers and beer to dole out to the horny masses.
Soon, we’re close enough to the stage to touch it as about a half dozen girls grind their hips, slowly taking off what little they’re wearing.
“Wait a minute.” Rory digs in her heels. “What’s happening? Why are these women naked? And why are these men howling as if someone is tearing off their toenails?”
Laken makes a face. “This is a strip club, Skyla. And in a nutshell that’s all that happens in a place like this. I guess we’ll have to sit back and enjoy the show.” She glowers at me a moment. It’s crystal clear Laken would much rather be across the street at the banana hammock place, too.
Rory shakes her head as she tries to back away. “We can’t stay. This is debauchery. I won’t have it. These men are full of lust and these women are scornful harlots who have no regard for their bodies. It’s shameful. It’s vile. It’s outright sinful.”
My adrenaline kicks up a notch just hearing those self-righteous words.
“Oh, come on, Skyla. Loosen up, would you? Why do you always think you’re so much better than everyone else? It’s hard to believe you and your sister came from the same mother.”
Her eyes sharpen over mine, and her face bleaches out a bit, but then it could be the blue flashing lights going off up above.
“My sister?”
“Yes, you know, that little bitch Rory who was slamming her body into my husband’s all last year.”
Chloe gives a dark laugh. Good one. Now there’s something I would have said. I think you’re finally catching on.
Rory looks as if I struck her. She bucks with a dull laugh caught in her chest.
“You’re right. She was a scheming little witch, wasn’t she?” Her left eye comes shy of winking. “She did have her way with your husband, didn’t she? And to think she slept with both of my men.” A greedy grin rides over her lips.
I tip my head to the side. “She slept with Logan? I guess I didn’t know that.” I do know that. But Rory slept with Logan under false pretenses. Rory doesn’t even realize that Logan is in on it. She’s getting sloppy, outing herself.
Rory’s face bleaches out all the more. “Just a guess. I bet she did. She did find him unusually attractive.”
I shake my head. “I bet what really attracted her was the lure of having your men, Skyla. She’s obsessed with you. She’s so angry she can’t see straight. She wants to be you.”
Rory bumps out a laugh. “Yes, well, some people are never satisfied until they get what they want.” She gives another wink. “Now where’s my cake?”
“In time,” I say as Lexy passes out a champagne flute to us all, and I help Rory tip her glass back as soon as it touches her lips. “Drink up. This is your special night.”
I wave a few bills in the air, but the women have all congregated to the other side of the stage, and it seems all of the waitresses are congregating in a hive in that area as well.
“No way!” Michelle belts it out. “I think that’s Dudley.”
Sure enough, the coital crowd parts, and the sneaky Sector sheds a dirty grin.
We flock over in a mob, and I get to him first.
“Marshall Dudley! Is this what you spend your downtime doing?”
Rory looks equally affronted as I do. “Sector Marshall! How dare you grin while these women make a spectacle of themselves.”
A redhead with legs long enough to reach to the ceiling and boobs big enough to float the blimp lands in his lap and does a little dirty mash-up that consists of shaking everything she’s got, factory parts included.
Rory retches and holds her hands up as if she might actually puke at the spectacle herself. So I do what any loving sister would do. I hold her hands behind her back and pass the redhead a fifty to give my sweet sis a private show. It’s nothing but boobs and butt in Rory’s face—and perhaps a few stray pink parts, but to be truthful, I closed my eyes for most of it.
Rory writhes and screams like a child watching her favorite doll catch fire, but I instate Chloe’s Celestra strength to hold her down.
Soon, Rory is boo-hooing like a three-year-old who lost her way home and got stuck in a strip club instead, and I start to feel sorry for her the way I would Giselle. Although, there’s nothing sweet and innocent about Rory. And I don’t see why she finds this wayward woman’s body so offensive.
Rory hauls off and hocks a thick blanket of phlegm in my eye, and I recoil, letting go so I can tend to my pressing issue.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she riots in my face, and Emily pushes me aside as she looks to Rory.
“It’s your damn party, Skyla,” Em shouts. “Loosen up and have a good time so we can get onto something else.”
Rory’s mouth rounds out as she takes a look around with new eyes.
“This is my party?” The words stumble from her with a sense of awe, and yet I don’t detect an ounce of disappointment.
In less than a moment, she hops onto the stage, staggering as she looks out at the crowd. Rory squints as the harsh lights blind her in every shade of red and blue.
Laken pulls me close. “This isn’t going to end well. I think we’ve made her uncomfortable enough. Let’s go home.”
Bree lets out an egregious whoop. “I’m in!” she shouts as she leaps in the air and miraculously lands next to Rory. Bree bumps and grinds her body against Rory’s until my sister catches on, and soon her arms are in the air and her hips are moving seductively in time to the music.
My blood boils just witnessing her having a seemingly good time. That was not the point of this exercise. I use my arms to weed whack my way through the wall of women swarming around Marshall, and I pull him to his feet.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Marshall
is cuttingly handsome in this schizophrenic lighting, his eyes glow with demonic intent, and there’s a naughty grin curved on his lips that gives a smidgen of hope to the women flocked around him.
His boiling red eyes narrow over mine. “Might I ask more appropriately, what the hell you’re doing here?”
A tiny giggle stifles in my throat. “You just said hell.”
He lifts a finger without looking at the stage. “And your other half is about to showcase far more than you realize.”
I glance up, and sure enough, Rory is in the middle of tossing off her bustier.
“Oh my God.” I grab ahold of the lip of the stage and sloppily prop myself up as if I were getting out of a pool with a dripping wet wool coat. I’m so caught off guard by Rory’s sudden ability to fit into this tantalizing scene, that I didn’t even think to turn up Chloe’s Celestra strength to rocket me next to her.
The raunchy thumping music only grows louder. My entire body pulsates with the bass. Hordes of men howl and chant, waving dollar bills at me with that rabid look of lust in their eyes.
How is this my life? I think as I stagger to my feet. How can my mother see this and not want to fix it? I watch the scene play out for moment, stunned, as Bree and Rory strip to their underwear, much to approving taunts of the men’s choir down below.
This is not how it should be.
Gage and I had a nice life for about five entire minutes.
Logan and I should be enjoying a nice life right about now.
I should have peace. I should be entertaining friends and family at Whitehorse. I should be concerning myself with my boys—concerning myself with thoughts of having more children with my husband. Instead, I am dead to myself. Watching as some celestial beast, who is technically a full-blooded sibling, does her best to reclaim what she thought was hers.
She’s living in a place she doesn’t belong, in a body never meant for her, trying to lead a people she knows nothing about. She is driven by power and greed, and now the rest of the world, starting with my children and me will be forced to live out the consequences.
Gage has pulled me down into Hell with him. He did this. He slaughtered me and all I have left is the fight inside of me. The sheer will to go on. The simple understanding that good must win, and my people must prosper to protect mankind from a certain doom that the Fems and their greedy ways have already rained down upon this earth.
I’m existing on borrowed time, in a borrowed body, in a world that will never understand me or my mission. And right now, the biggest obstacle is this celestial bitch who just flung off Chloe’s best bustier and exposed my boobs to a thousand testosterone-laden men.
The flash of a camera goes off, then another, and I leap over Rory and pin her to the stage.
“You will not do this to me!” I howl in her face.
“Get off, Chloe,” she grunts each word out as she springs back to her feet, running to the front of the stage well out of reach.
Rory dips her thumbs into her underwear and the crowd goes wild.
“Bree!” I shout up over the music as I struggle to rise to my feet. “Bree, we need to stop her,” I say as Bree quickly unhooks her own bra and slaps me in the face with it.
“Get with it, Bishop!” she roars with laughter as she moves to the beat of the music.
Don’t you dare listen to her, Messenger! This is your mess, not mine. Get your own mop to clean it. My boobs are off-limits. And if it’s any consolation to you, your tits look great. I’m sure the internet will love them.
My eyes latch onto Marshall’s as he stands near the foot of the stage looking over at me with a stern expression.
He’s not moving a muscle. The rest of the girls think this is all fun and games, and, of course, Bree is a willing participant all on her own. It’s up to me to bring this party to a crashing conclusion.
I look over to the front of the stage just in time to see Rory’s pretty pink panties drop before she turns around and bends over.
With everything in me I charge over and tackle her. With sheer momentum, I sweep us off the stage, landing us in a hornet’s nest of strangers as they grab at our bodies for a cheap thrill.
A warm jacket falls over me, Marshall’s offering from his suit, and I quickly wrap it around Rory before navigating her the hell out of this place.
By the time we hit the fog outside, Lexy and Michelle are already cackling at how fast my pink parts have raced across the internet.
“What the hell?” I snatch the phone out of Lexy’s hand and gasp as I see a hashtag that reads #drunkSkyla. I click on it, and sure enough, there are a plethora of pictures of my body that are clearly X-rated in nature—triple X-rated if you want to get technical. And if I scroll down, I see a few of myself—when I was actually still in my body—doubled over at what looks to be some of Ellis Harrison’s parties. “Great,” I snip. Now my kids will have this dark history to look forward to one day. “This has gone too far. I’m going to murder her.”
“What?” Lex takes her phone back. “This is gold.” She nods to where Bree and Rory are spastically trying to put their clothes back on. “Who the hell cares? It’s Skyla. She’s taken Logan from me. There are some sins that are simply unforgiveable, and that’s one of them. He told me himself that if it wasn’t for Skyla we’d be together.”
Michelle gasps. “You should totally off her.”
I think on this a moment. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to hop on the murderous express? If Lexy killed me, I could hop back into my body once Rory got the big spiritual heave-ho. And then I’d make sure Lexy was caught for attempted manslaughter and the police could lock her up and throw away the key. It sounds like a win-win to me.
Please, Chloe grunts. Lexy isn’t a trained assassin. If anything, she’d screw it up and you’d end up with a body that was rendered useless. You’d need an expert at homicide to work this out for you, and that would be me. But I’m certainly detained, and I’m also not in the mood for prison.
“Fine,” I mutter under my breath and Lexy’s eyes light up.
“So you’ll do it? You’ll off Messenger for me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Chloe groans, or screams—right about now it sounded just the same. I told you not to mess with my life.
Michelle lifts a shoulder my way. “I might just like you again. How should we do it?”
Lexy slaps her hands together. “I’ll come up with the details. Thanks, Chloe, I knew you’d have my back.”
The two of them take off, and I cringe.
See that? I’ll be implicated. An accessory to a crime I’m not even in charge of. That’s what pussies go to prison for.
Nobody is going to prison, I tell her. I’ll make them knock it off.
I spot Laken on the phone nearby. She’s probably checking on her children, which is exactly what I would be doing if it wasn’t for Rory’s stupid shenanigans, and I’m talking about the first stupid shenanigan she initiated which was my death—although, sleeping with Gage all of last year qualifies, too.
I stride over to where Lexy and Michelle have congregated.
“Nobody is killing Messenger,” I say. “She’s trying her best to save all of your sorry asses, and if you can’t see that, maybe it’s you I should be plotting to kill.”
Watch it, Messenger, Chloe snips it low like a threat, but I choose to ignore her for the moment.
Nat comes up with a glass of champagne in her hand. “I needed a refill. What’d I miss?”
“Skyla’s bits and pieces have been broadcast to the nations,” I grunt. “Her children will forever have to bear that hairy cross, and now these two turkeys think the answer is slaughtering Messenger in her sleep.”
Lex shakes her head. “I’ll make sure she’s wide awake to experience her worst nightmare—just the way I was wide awake to experience it when she stole Logan.”
Nat gives a wide-eyed blink. “You bitches are psycho. Yes, Messenger can be an asshole as evidenced by those pictu
res that will live in infamy, but nobody offs her or I off them. Got it? And by the way, in the event you do off her without my expressed permission, I didn’t hear a thing.” She stalks off toward Bree and seemingly me.
“Then it’s settled,” I say. “Skyla lives.” I glower over at Rory. “Now let’s get on with the evening.”
We take Rory to the dive bar across the street with promises of some serious banana hammock action, and boy, does it ever deliver. And then it hits me. This is the exact same place I was in during the bachelorette party Laken had before she married Coop. I was having some serious mindbenders no thanks to the Fem lineage my poor boys were suspect to, and I hallucinated seeing Marshall, Logan, and Gage up on stage shaking their junk. Although, none of those boys have any junk attached to their bodies. It is all solid gold—premium stuff straight from Heaven.
I spend the rest of the time daydreaming as a parade of penises swirls through my mind. Marshall’s penis is on hold indefinitely. Gage is just a dick. And Logan—I can’t wait until I can take a seat over his lap and—
Way to keep it G, Messenger. Show’s over, get us the hell of out of here. I say you follow Rory home and beat her up. That sounds like the perfect way to round out the night.
I’d agree, but I’d hate to hurt my face before the wedding. Lexy ironically will be the photographer, and now I wonder if she’ll be shooting more than a few quick pictures.
We head back to Paragon and Nat, Michelle, and Lex catch the first car home, where I’m sure they have a colorful conversation in which my slow death is the prized topic. I hitch a ride with Laken and Rory, and we drop off Laken first.
I lean her way as she’s getting out of the car and whisper thank you.
She shrugs my way. “Whatever you need, whenever. I’m yours.” She takes off, and Rory tells the driver to take her to the estates.
“The estates?” I bet she forgot where she lives, and now I’m wondering just how much champagne she’s had.
“Yup.” She pulls a mirror out of her purse, reapplies a fresh coat of shimmering pink gloss, and gives her wild mane a quick tickle with her fingers before snapping her gaze my way, her affect suddenly blunted and cold. “I thought I’d pop in and see the boys.” She gives a quick wink.
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