Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

sit back, shaking my head.
But my smile fades a little. They’re just joking, but they wouldn’t be
against it, either. Would they suggest getting me a stripper if I were into
guys? No, they only feel the need to protect me from men, as if my
relationships with women are less of a threat. As if they’re not real.
They would never let a man give me a lap dance.
I stare out the window, the music blasting and Trace digging into the
cooler between us and cracking a beer.
I’ll miss them, but… I’m dying to leave here. To feel like I belong
somewhere. To maybe meet someone.
I don’t have anything here.
There’s no one like me.
• • •
“Up!” Army shouts.
Everyone lifts their glasses into the air, clinking as the cheap tiki torches
around the patio of Mariette’s burn in the evening air, and I smile, absolutely
taking the shot of Patrón Army lets me have, since Macon’s not around.
“This could be it!” We all shout back in unison. “Salud!”
“Salud!” Army follows.
We shoot the tequila, my brothers laughing at me when I immediately
chase it with a sip of Coke.
As long as they’re around, I can typically have a drink or two, but the
quick plummet from “I feel fantastic and love everyone” to “Oh my God,
what have I done?”, and wasting a whole day recovering from a hangover,
was a lesson I only needed to learn once. Ever since, I drink sparingly and
almost never hard liquor.
But it’s a special occasion tonight. I just scored four goals, I got into
Dartmouth, my birthday is coming up, and the lawyer got Iron off with
community service if he promises to also attend counseling.
As if a therapist is going to help my brother not slam a waiter’s head into
a table for getting smart with him. I wish I could say Iron risks his freedom
for something more substantial, like money or power, but honestly, I’d think
less of him if he were that shallow. The anger, I understand.
And he only uses it on others. Never his family.
We sit outside, the sea breeze beyond the swamp blowing through the