Antidote by LC Lehesaho
7
"Oh, holy shit, Elena! You're a miracle worker," Falcon states and stares at us in the mirror. The makeup is unbelievable, and I agree with my sister completely. We could've never done something like this ourselves.
Because it's the opening night of Purgatory, there is a theme. In other words, masks on.
There's a line going through my face, leaving only my right eye and half cheek looking human, but the other side is painted to look like a skull. My lips are black, and they go all the way to my ears, and there are stitches all over it. The eye on the skull side is wearing a special contact lens, making my eye look almost entirely black. My face looks so awesome that I'd like to cry a little. Although it might be all the wine, we've also been drinking, but anyhow. It's a fucking masterpiece. Elena left the black, blue, and purple bruises on display on my throat because she said they belong with my costume now.
It's like a pretty necklace from Death himself.
She also curled my hair and placed a black shiny top hat tilted on my head. It goes well with my outfit; a black corset, which is actually some kind of bodysuit with a snap fastener at my crotch—handy. Though my ass looks like I'm a fucking bird because there is a ridiculous amount of lace puffed up, layer after layer. It reminds me of the hookers in western movies, but my over-the-knee boots with solid six-inch heels are straight from gothgirl69's closet.
There is this Day of the Dead, western slut, Blade’s bride meets Pinkie Pie going on with me.
I need way more to drink than just this wine, though it's kicking in pretty nicely already.
"You look fuckable." I turn to Falcon and take in her outfit.
She's an angel… kind of. There are big white fluffy wings on her back like in the Victoria's Secret show, but the upper part of her outfit is a leather collar on her neck and black duct tape going around her torso, which covers only her nipples. Thank fuck that her boobs are small. The lower part is fishnet stockings and a short leather skirt with Converse All Stars. "But you realize that taking off that duct tape is going to hurt like a motherfucker?"
"I'm counting on it." She winks and fluffs her black bob.
Elena claps her hands. "I have to go to get Eddie from my mother and get him to sleep. Have a fun night, girls!" She waves at us and leaves after we've thanked her for the thousandth time.
Falcon turns to me, a mischievous smile on her face. "Are you ready to own the night, sister?"
I lift my hand for a high-five. "We're going to slay it."
Purgatory is our first big project together.
We've designed it from corner to corner, all of us together. Well, not Dad—he gave us the reins, but he was the one who paid for it. I wanted the dance floor to be higher than the lounge area—I got it. You have to take three stairs up to get there, and there's railing going around it, so drunken pigs can't interrupt, at least without making an effort.
Falcon wanted to use black leather for the seats—she got it.
Puma wanted an inside smoking lounge with couches—he got it.
Bear wanted poles at the tables, so whenever some chick feels like shaking her moneymaker and wants to go all Britney-bitch, she can—and he got it.
Wolf wanted a high deck for us, so whenever he's there, he doesn't have to interact with people—he got it.
And Tiger? He wanted to paint the whole place, every inch of it. He got it, and he did. Tiger is such a fucking talented artist that it still amazes me. There are acts of sin painted on the walls, and they are all extremely specific. The picture of a woman on her knees and hands stretched behind her neck is so lifelike that I can imagine what her perky breasts feel like. Shit, she almost has better boobs than me, but just almost. The devil behind her is incredible, his wings spread wide across the wall.
I was here with Tiger when he painted this place, but it still gives me chills to look at all of this. He is so gifted.
I trail my eyes over the crowd when we walk toward the deck. “The Dope Show” by Marilyn Manson is pounding through the air, and there are already a few chicks using those poles like pros. Everyone is dressed up for the theme, of course, because you can't get in without a proper outfit. The dressing up was Bear's idea; he loves to play games. Everything is a game for Bear, and hand on my heart, I love my brother, but I can say that he is one big motherfucker most of the time. He has his good moments, sure, but not too often.
"Nice place you got here, chicas."
A solid, tattooed guy steps in front of us from the crowd, and it takes me a second to realize who is behind the skull mask. I recognize the sacrifice text on his shaved head.
"Was that an actual compliment or are you trying to be sarcastic, Havoc?" I retort to him, and Emilio "Havoc" Cortez grins at me wide enough to flash his silver canine. Havoc is second-in-command of Pronto Muerte, the gang which leads the eastside of the Shangri-la. Obviously, Pronto Muerte is answering to our Dad because he runs the entire city.
Havoc folds his hands to his chest and leans a bit back, clicking his tongue while his eyes roam over Falcon and me. "Take it how you want, but carajo, if you two weren’t Hayeses, I would fuck you dead."
I let out an exaggerated sigh, but from the corner of my eye, I see that Falcon's eyes travel over Havoc's muscular body a little bit too intensely. He's wearing a white tank, and his tattoos, which probably cover every inch of his skin, are on display, and his jeans hug his thighs. I feel the urge to smack my sister on the back of her head.
"That would be a complete waste of two minutes of our lives, so even if we weren't Hayeses, we wouldn't bother," I tell him coldly, and nudge Falcon on her arm. "Let's go. Have a nice night, Havoc."
He looks at Falcon, who is still staring at him, and clicks his tongue. "You know where to find me, mina." Then he disappears into the crowd, and I gape at Falcon.
"What the fuck was that? Is there something I should know about?"
She shakes her head and pulls me toward the deck. "No, but you can't deny that he is hot as hell."
I laugh out loud. "Oh, yes, I can. Havoc is far from hot on my scale."
"Oh, yeah, right, I forgot that you fuck only choir boys with halos and make them sinners on Sundays.” She laughs out loud, just when we get to the deck, pulling everyone's eyes to us.
"What in the hell are you two wearing?" Dad growls.
"And then she sends them a bill afterward," Bear snickers in response to Falcon's statement, and Puma smacks him straight on the nose with a backhand. They're sitting next to each other on one of the couches.
"She is your sister, you manwhore."
"I knew I should've stayed at home," Wolf states over everyone and folds his arms over his chest with a disgusted look.
The only one who is not saying anything is Tiger. He is watching me, but there's no expression whatsoever on his face. It’s like he is watching golf.
Dad repeats his question, and everyone else shuts the fuck up. The boys are all wearing black fitted suits, even the dress shirts are black.
Obviously, Dad is not wearing any makeup; he hates playing hide and seek. But the boys? They have their A game on. They all have the same skull paint on their faces, but their hair is all different colors that separates them easily, even if you’re not looking closely. I can't deny that I'm fond of Tiger's dark chocolate brown hair with highlights in it. It's not colored, but it is sun-kissed in the summer.
His hand is draped casually over the backrest of the couch, and he's sprawled his legs out wide. I would like to crawl between them. Taste him. And fuck, he looks marvelous in a suit.
The things I would do to him...
"We dressed up as agreed." I hear Falcon's voice when she answers Dad's question, but my heartbeat is drumming in my ears so loudly that it's hard to concentrate. I tear my eyes away from Tiger and catch the bartender coming up the stairs with a tray in her hands. Everyone is silent as she offers the full glasses to us and places two bottles of Grey Goose and Jameson on the low table. Only after she leaves does the arguing continue.
"I specifically said, only if you keep it classy." Dad throws his hand toward us, and the look on his face says everything. "That is everything but. Is that a collar? Jesus Christ, Falcon. Go change."
"Who's the one with the leash?" It's Bear again.
"I wear what the fuck I wanna wear," Falcon retorts and gulps down her drink in one take.
I lift my hands up in surrender. "Can we just chill? Dad, I know that you disapprove, but just this once, let's not make a scene. We are all adults here."
The boys have enough brains to keep their mouths shut, and I can see that Dad controls his emotions the best he can. His eyebrows furrow, the bullet wound scar disappears inside the lines, and he takes a deep breath. "I don't want to see you two near those poles. Remember who you are and act like it. Do you understand?"
We both nod and talk in unison. "Yes, Dad."
Falcon is smart enough not to push him too far because she knows that Dad would actually drag her home himself if he got angry enough. It doesn't matter that we are all twenty years old, he would still do it.
She sits down beside Wolf, and the only free seat is next to Tiger, but that doesn't surprise anyone. It's my place, always side by side with him, and everyone knows it. But secrets are lingering under the surface, and now it makes my skin prickle more than usual. The heat grows step by step as I get closer to him. When I'm in front of Tiger, blocking the view of his face from everyone else, he shows it to me.
Desire. Lust. Craving. It all leaks out from his eyes when he looks up at me.
Tiger resembles the devil himself, the skull paint oozing sinister vibes, and the fire in his eyes makes me want to burn myself in his flames. I know better than to give in to my urges, but I can't deny it. Tiger is my poison, and I'm ready to die.
He fixes his face in a nanosecond when I sit beside him, so no one can see what I saw. The leather couch sticks to my thighs, and it feels cold against my hot skin. Everyone else is talking about business and how things went with Snow, so no one is paying any attention to us. Tiger leans closer to my ear, and I feel his breathing on my skin. It gives me goose bumps all fucking over. "You look deadly."
"So do you," I counter and turn to look at him.
He is close, very close, but I don't believe anyone thinks it's weird because the music is so loud that it's better to talk closer. Or at least I hope that is what everyone is thinking. Tiger smells delicious; cigarettes and a dark, leathery scent. So mouthwatering that I have to swallow to keep talking. "Your hair looks really good like that." His brown, usually a bit tousled hair, is pushed back and sleek, so there is not even one loose strand.
"It better, I hated every second of the fucking pampering Puma gave me," he states and takes a sip from his drink.
I burst out a laugh. "Why am I not surprised?" I try to relax a bit and make a gesture toward the wall with my hand. "Those paintings are stunning. You did a great job."
"Worm, are you nervous around me?" he asks, humor coloring his voice.
"No, what the fuck? Of course not."
After speaking, I realize that I just confirmed it to be true.
Tiger laughs, with his low and sexy tone, making me want to die. He's irresistible.
"Yeah, right." He leans closer to my ear. "I know you, baby girl. Better than anyone. Remember, don't lie to me, because I catch you every time."
"What happens if I do?" I know I shouldn't play his game, but… how can I not?
"Turn your head toward me," he whispers in my ear, and I do as he tells me, not knowing what to expect. Tiger keeps his face next to mine, so no one sees what he is doing. I feel it. His hand on the backrest moves my hair aside, and his tongue slides on my neck, causing me to have shivers of lust and fear. I can't even imagine what would happen if our family could see what he is doing, so I stay still, frozen and not wanting to cause a scene. He kisses the spot behind my ear and then bites my earlobe, and I almost flinch. Almost. "If you ever lie to me... I will make you beg for forgiveness, baby."
I feel the dampness between my thighs when my abdomen tightens.
We are so fucking twisted and so fucking doomed.