Flock

WELL-ORCHESTRATED ANARCHY.

That’s the only way to describe it when we pull in. A slew of cars are parked in a circle around a story-high, raging bonfire. The rest outline a large clearing surrounded by a forest. Kegs are hauled off trucks by some while others wait ready, tossing bags of ice around them. Music blares from the speakers of a truck as a few more cars pull up and empty. Fifty heads, at a minimum, most gathered in small groups as if there’s some social protocol amongst them.

“Please give me a straight answer, what in the hell is this?” I ask Dominic as he surveys the yard, pulling dead center into the circle where just enough space was left as if it’s his rightful place in the lineup.

“Just a gathering of friends.”

“I don’t have this many friends.”

“Lucky you,” he says with an edge as he scans the crowd. He dodges my next question by exiting the car and pulls my door open, lifting me to stand with him as I survey the party. Sean meets us at his car, his eyes going straight to my lips, satisfaction brimming in them when he sees they’ve been left untouched.

“Have fun?” He asks, pulling me into his side.

“We didn’t,” I can’t meet his eyes, “we didn’t…do—”

He shakes his head and tips my chin. “That’s not what I was asking.” He drapes an arm around my shoulder and looks over to Dominic. “They’re here. Waiting on you.”

Dominic dips his chin, his eyes darting to mine before he takes off.

I immediately look over to Sean as he walks us into the crowd. The scene playing out before us looks like one straight out of From Dusk till Dawn, an old Quentin Tarantino flick, and I half expect fire breathers and half-naked girls dancing on poles to pop up at any moment before the fangs come out. “Are you going to tell me what this is?”

“It’s a party.”

“I can see that.”

He chuckles at the arrival of my mean mug. “Then why are you asking?”

“Back home we don’t call parties a meetup.”

“This isn’t the Atlanta suburbs.”

“No shit.” I look around to see bottles and joints being passed around like free-flowing water before noticing the out-of-state plates on some of the cars. “And not everyone lives here.”

He nods. “Good eye.”

“Sean, come on, give me something.”

He gestures in the direction of an El Camino where two mammoth men sit on the tailgate sca

“Yeah.”

“That’s Matteo and Andre, The Spanish Lullaby. Behind them is their crew. They’re from Miami.”

“They drove here from Miami?”

“Yeah.”

“For a party?”

He nods.

“Why are they called The Spanish Lullaby?”

He eyes me. “Use your imagination.”

“That isn’t scary at all.”

“I’ve got you, Pup.”

And I believe him. Sean’s face turns to stone as he dips his chin at the Miami crew when they zero in on us. The lift of their chins barely perceptible.

“And that group over there,” he points to a truck where one of the guys lands a backflip off the hood of a pickup before downing some Jack Daniels. “That fool is Marcus, and the guy next to him is Andrew. That’s Tallahassee, the rest of Florida, and they’re fucking shysters. So, stay a foot or six away at all times, if you want to keep your valuables.”

He takes his time walking me around the party, or meetup, or whatever the hell it is, and it doesn’t take long to notice the slew of raven tattoos marking the arms of everyone in attendance. Some of the girls have a tattoo as well, dainty wings inked on their shoulder blades. A few of them are wearing halters, no doubt to show them off. And it’s then I know those wings are a symbol of possession.

Sean leads me over to a freshly tapped keg and passes me a beer. I take it, and a sip, preoccupied with the truth behind this party. Sean merges us in with a few of the groups, easy conversation flowing from his lips as I scan others sitting on the edge of their cars, watching the rest of the party. I press up on my toes after a few minutes and lean into Sean with a whisper.

“Are you in a gang?”

He tosses his head back and laughs.

I scowl. “How is that fu

“Do we look like gangsters?”

“No. Yes. Kind of. Then what is this?”

“Just a bunch of like-minded people with similar interests hanging out.”

“With the same tattoo?”

He shrugs. “It’s a badass tattoo.”

“Sean,” I grit out impatiently. Though we’re in the midst of a mingling with Alabama, he lifts his chin at Tallahassee and turns to me. “I need to go talk to a few guys. You cool here?”

Eyes wide, I search his face. “They won’t touch you, Cecelia. You pulled up with Dominic.”

“And that means what exactly?”

“It means I’ll be right back.”

He smiles and shakes his head, moving to abandon me and I grip his arm. “Where’s Layla?”

“She’s here somewhere. Go find her, and I’ll come get you in a bit.”

“You’re seriously leaving me here?” I whisper yell. “Alone?”

He drains his beer. “Yep.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Is this like a throw her in the deep end thing and see if she can swim test?”

He laughs. The bastard laughs. “No floaties. Show me that mean mug.”

Furious, I grip at his arm as he begins to saunter away, and he shakes me off easily. “You’re fine, baby.”

Pulse rocketing, I scan the party for Tyler, Layla, Russell or anyone I know, and see Sean find Tyler just in front of the raging fire before they both disappear behind a few cars.

I decide to bite Sean’s testicles the minute I’m able.

Trembling from head to foot, I toss back more beer.

“What’s he like?” A feminine voice sounds up from behind me and I spill half my beer jumping out of my skin before I turn to face her.

“Sorry,” she laughs lightly. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Must be your first time here.”

“It is,” I take her in. She looks to be my age and has jet black hair with purple tips. She’s dressed in black from head to boot, a silver and black raven wing’s necklace resting in her ample cleavage. “Are you asking about Sean?”

She’s exotically beautiful and jealousy simmers through me to the point that I can’t help my question. “Why?”

She takes a step toward me, hesitation clear as she lifts light brown eyes to mine. “Sorry, I guess that was weird to ask his…girlfriend?”

She wants Sean, and she’s brazenly telling me within seconds of meeting me. Is that how this works? An even better question is would he be interested to know about her?

“I don’t know…what we are.” I take a sip of my beer. “We’re new.”

“Hard to know what you are with any of these assholes unless you get winged,” she sighs. She glances at my cup. “You’re out. Let’s get another one.”

I never used to drink, not like this. I blame the new men in my life and the nerves associated with them. She nods toward the guy minding the keg as we walk the few steps to get to him and hand him our cups.

“I’m Alicia.”

“Cecelia.” She’s taller than me by a few inches, definitely not a girl any male eye would pass over. She sizes me up just as carefully. “Did you come with anyone?”

“My brother,” she supplies. “We’re Virginia.”

“Oh.” Not from Virginia, no, she claimed a whole state.

“Dominic’s never brought…neither of them have ever brought a girl here. I thought you came with Dom, so I wasn’t sure which one you were with?”