Page 106 of Riot Reunion
Wren slams his drink down on the table; a jet of beer sloshes out of the bottle. “Will you fuckoff, Mercy!” His vivid, too-green eyes glitter with malice. “I swear to fucking god, one more bitchy remark out of you and I will end your life.”
“You’d hate that.” Her retort comes quickly, already on the tip of her tongue. “Not being a twin would be soordinary.” Mercy glances around at the rest of us like we’re pathetic creatures, hardly worthy of her pity. She’s on the verge of adding to her comment when her focus drifts to the hallway and Pax, who pads barefoot through the door into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. A spark of something unholy flares in Mercy Jacobi’s eyes. “Well, hello there, Mr. Davis. That photo I saw of you on the Kingston’s Photography Journal didnotdo you justice. And I do believe that you werenakedon that cover, no?”
“Fuck off, Mercy,” Pax snaps.
“I’ve been telling her to do that all day,” Wren mutters.
“For the first time since we all sat down at the dining table in our flat, Carrie, curled up in my lap, lifts her head from my shoulder casts cold eyes over Mercy. “How the hell did you even know where to find us? We didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address back in New Hampshire.”
“That’s true,” she agrees. “But the internet’s super fucking useful. All I had to do google Lord Lovett ancestral seat—”
I nearly bolt up out of my chair and dump Carrie on her ass. “You didnot.”
Mercy shrugs, smiling innocently. “Surrey’s lovely this time of year. Your family really go all out for Christmas, Dash. Your father made me feelverywelcome.” She pops a slice of apple into her mouth, giggling like the viper that she is.
“Youspent Christmas…atDash’sfamily estate?” Carrie looks like she’s about to launch herself across the table and claw Mercy’s eyes out. I threatened her with having to visit the estate back when we first moved here, but she wasn’t ready. We’ve been talking about making the trip back home in February, maybe. And nowMercyhas beaten her to it?
“Sure,” Mercy says, smirking. “What’s the big deal? We’re all family. Dash, your aunt gave me thisglorioustennis bracelet.” She holds out her wrist, flashing the string of diamonds like the bracelet is a quaint little trinket and not a family heirloom that used to belong to my grandmother.
“What the fuck.” Carrie glowers at me like this is somehow my fault. “Why the hell would they give Toxic Goth Barbie a gift like that?”
“Oh, I think I might have implied that Dash and I were dating. Just as a joke, y’know. Plus, I didn’t want to have to get a train back to London in the middle of the night. It was cold and snowing, and they’d just served cocktails—”
“You are the fuckingworst, Mercy.” My girlfriend is channeling anger rather than hurt; she might have everyone else fooled, but I can tell that Mercy’s antics have actually bothered her. “Why bother coming here at all if you successfully hijacked the Lovett family Christmas?”
“If you must know, I’m here out of necessity,” Mercy says, pouting. “Our father, the right honorable General Jacobi has cut me off. And without access to my accounts, I have nothing better to do than annoy you lot. So…” She winks provocatively at Pax. “Damn, Davis. I don’t think I fully appreciated how hot you were until…well,now. I’m very progressive. I don’t mind that there’s a red-headed peasant sleeping in your bed. I, for one, appreciate a good orgasmic scream. If you can tease that kind of racket out of a girl, then you must be pretty talented in the sa—”
CRASH!
Everyone gapes at Pax. No one said a word when he picked up the vase from the bookcase. No one warned Mercy to shut the fuck up as he hefted it back, ready to launch it. I don’t think anyone believed that he’d throw it, least of all Mercy. She ducked just in time, barely avoiding the glass projectile as it sailed over her head and shattered against the living room wall behind her.
We all stare down at the splinters of glass on the ground.
“That was a housewarming gift,” I say flatly.
A startled bark of laughter rips out of Carrie.
Wren opens his mouth. He looks like he might say something chiding about our friend trying to decapitate his sister, but Paxpointsat him with his index finger. That’s all it takes, and Wren appears to decide against it. He shrugs nonchalantly instead. “Honestly, I wish I’d done that three hours ago.”
“Fuck! What the fuck! You’re really gonna let him do that?” Mercy wails.
“Bait a lion, expect to get bit, fuckhead,” Pax growls. “How much money will it take to get you to disappear and forget any of us exists?”
“Thirty thousand dollars.” The number rolls off Mercy’s tongue too fast, her ire forgotten.
“Donotgive her thirty grand.” Wren downs the rest of his beer, setting the empty down on the table.
“Someoneshould give her thirty grand,” Elodie mumbles.
“If you give her money, she’ll only be back, asking for more in a week.”
“Hey! It’d take me at least amonthto get through that!”
“How have you been cut off, anyway?” Wren gets up from the table. Rather than grabbing another beer from the kitchen, he goes straight for the hard stuff. He sets out five glasses on the bar cart and begins spooning sugar into a mixing glass. A lot of people would be pissed about a guest making themselves so at home, but Wren isn’t a guest here. He’s family. He knows he’s welcome to anything he wants or needs here. “You got your inheritance just like I did. Our father doesn’t control that money,” he says to Mercy.
Mercy looks at the table. Her nails. The stormy seascape that Wren painted for us hanging on the wall above the fireplace. Anywhere but at her brother.
A mass of black waves tumbles into Wren’s face as he spins around to look at her. He sweeps his hair back casually, and Elodie Stillwater ducks her head, averting her eyes like the action just made her toes curl inside her shoes. “Mercy, you didn’t. There’s no way.” If I’m not mistaken, that’s genuine shock strewn across Jacobi’s face right now. “You can’t haveblownit all.”
