Page 23 of Call It What You Want
I shake my head. “Sorry, I have no idea who that is.”
“Right,” he says with an embarrassed smile. “Christian had a consort. Her name is Ava, too.” He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s not important.”
It’s a pretty common name. It probably popped up in some baby book the year I was born. There were two other girls named Ava in my grade in high school. It got pretty confusing.
“Cool. Lucky her,” I reply. I mean, what else am I supposed to say? Then something occurs to me. “Hey, do all the Sacred Sons have consorts?”
“Yeah. Except for Ash. He joined after this year’s Preference Ceremony.”
I tilt my head. “Preference Ceremony…?”
With a flirtatious laugh, he leans against the wall, facing me, blocking my view of the TV. “At the start of every academic year, all the girls in the Burning Crown are gathered up—we call them Debs, short for ‘debutante’ or something—and each Sacred Son chooses one.”
I glance down at my beer can and trace the rim with the tip of my finger, the question burning in my throat. “So, um, does Jackson have a consort?”
“Yeah, well, hedid.But I think she got kicked out a few weeks ago for bad grades or something, and had to go back to…Michigan, I think?”
“Ah,” I say, nodding slowly, like that information didn’t just send a ricochet of relief shooting straight through me. “Interesting.”
A group of girls comes rushing over to us, all carbon copies of each other—tiny waists, long hair, short shorts, and bikini tops. Not gonna lie, I feel like a troll in my sweatpants and hacked-up t-shirt, but…listen, I’ve been drugged and kidnapped. It is what it is.
The blond girl latches onto Brian’s arm, her glossy smile aimed right at him. “There’s a frat dayger on the other side of campus. Kegs, a DJ, the whole deal. You coming?”
Brian glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “Wanna join?”
“Oh, um. What’s a dayger?” I ask, completely lost. I don’t know the college lingo. I’d always dreamed of going to university after high school, but it was a dream my bank account couldn’t make a reality. Maybe one day.
“It’s a day party.”
I nod, thinking through Jackson’s edict that I not escape—Try to escape, and I swear to God, Ava, I will hunt you down, drag you back to my bed, and chain you there if I have to…
But if the party is on the ExU campus, then I’m still technically on the premises. So, loophole. Plus, it’d be a distraction, at least.
There’s just one problem.
“I don’t have shoes,” I say.
The blond pinches her brows and glances down at my feet. “What size shoe do you wear?”
“Eight.”
She holds her index finger up, then disappears for about thirty seconds. When she returns, she hands me a pair of designer flip-flops. “Becca had an extra pair. She said you could borrow them.”
“Oh, thanks.”
I slip them on and follow the group as they make their way through the winding campus paths, toward the sounds of thumping bass and laughter. The party is in full swing at a converted residence on the edge of campus. Inside, bodies press together on the makeshift dance floor while others cluster around kegs and fold-out tables loaded with red solo cups.
For the first time in days, I feel almost normal. Like I’m just a college girl at a party, another anonymous face in the crowd. I’m finally free, even if it’s just for a couple of hours...
CHAPTER NINE
Jackson
My uncle and lawyer, John McKnight, is waiting for me in the study. He’s standing by the fireplace, looking down at his phone. When I walk in, his head snaps up, and for a second, I freeze. His face, which is so much like my father’s, is tight, strained.
“Hey, Unc,” I say. “What’s up?”
He slips his phone into his pocket and walks toward me. “Thanks to that fucking article, the situation in Missouri is heating up again…” His jaw tightens. “And I checked with the Senior Council. They’re not going to intervene. Not this time.”
