Chapter 15
VANNA
A ce is occupying himself with a box of crayons and some paper at the little table we set up for him beneath a window near the register.
The honor system has been working at the farmstand, but we do come down frequently so I can tidy up, restock as needed, and collect payments left throughout the day when I’m not here to assist customers.
The breeze on this brisk autumn afternoon has finally died down, and I’ve been sweeping out the leaves from the old oak towering outside. I try to focus on the classical music playing softly on the portable stereo for Ace, but my mind has been reeling since encountering Legion earlier.
I want to believe he’s sincere. I want to think he truly regrets everything he’s caused and understands the hurt, anger, and confusion he’s left in his wake. Is he truly sorry, or is this simply an act, another manipulation to get closer?
I’m afraid to examine the reasons I ever trusted him in the past. Dean was right. All of Legion’s actions have spoken to the contrary of his words…until he shot his brother.
I try to suppress the horrific images of that night from resurfacing, but something inside of me clings to the monumental act.
Legion killed his own brother, arranged the decimation of his crew to ensure their defeat on our behalf…
He claims to have kept the promises he made that night, and though I remember his words, I don’t want to think about them either.
“It’s Meg!” Ace excitedly announces when we both hear the crunching of gravel beneath tires in our small parking area. He must have seen her car pulling up through the window behind him.
I set the broom against a wooden produce box containing a batch of tomatoes from the greenhouse Ace and I collected earlier, and make my way to the open doors.
Meg waves as she steps out of the car, and another rogue breeze catches her long, fox-red hair, causing it to billow out and settle over her shoulder, draping down the lavender sweater she’s wearing.
The color really brings out the deep emerald green of her eyes.
Since moving into the old Victorian-style farmhouse next door, she’s become a regular customer over the last year, and Ace has taken a liking to her.
It’s comforting to know there is someone living in the old house again.
Until Meg, it sat vacant after I moved in with Dean.
“ Veggies and Vivaldi!” Meg smiles upon entering our little farmstand. “Though I never did care much for Vivaldi,” she seems to laugh the comment off. “Violins are so… shrill .”
To each their own, I suppose, though I’m grateful for the distraction of her visit. “I’ve read that listening to classical music has several proven benefits for children’s mental development.”
Her dark green eyes seem to study me. “Yes, I recall an article discussing whether a preference for instrumental music indicated higher intelligence , or if it is simply a pseudo fact.” Suddenly, her demeanor shifts, and she smiles pleasantly.
“Anyway, will you be taking orders this year for those spectacular homemade Cornucopias? They were such a hit last year on my Thanksgiving table.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I gesture to the checkout counter. “I just put out the order sheet this morning.”
We walk over to the list together, which has already accumulated a few customers.
I grab a pen from the tin can beside the register and place it down on the sheet of paper clamped to the clipboard.
“Sesame seed or plain this year. Orders will be available to be picked up the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, between noon and six pm. Either Dean or I will be home to hand them off,” I explain, then it occurs to me.
“I don’t think you’ve met my husband yet, have you? ”
“I haven’t had the pleasure yet, no,” Meg smiles, picking up the clipboard to fill out her information. “Is there any possible way I could talk you into a special exception? Of course, I’m willing to pay the difference.”
“Well, I suppose it depends…” I begin when she suddenly drops both the clipboard and the pen. Before I get the chance to do or say anything, she immediately picks them up, clearing her throat as if to buy herself a moment of composure. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, clumsy me.” She forces another flittering laugh. “Last year, you made a simply scrumptious version with a honey glaze of some sort. It was delicious.” She goes on, jotting down her information.
Going along with her act as if nothing happened, I reply, “Sure. Why not? Just put a little note next to your name so I remember.”
“You are so sweet, Vanna. Thank you for being so accommodating.” She finishes filling out her order and hands the clipboard back to me.
While she sorts through her purse to pay, I scan over the list, curious to see if there is something out of the ordinary that may have startled her.
I haven’t had a reason to look over the list yet, since Thanksgiving is still weeks away.
When I see a phone number and the words The Devil scribbled just above her information. Damn it, Legion…
She watches me draw a line through the words and what I’m certain is Legion’s cell number. “Must have been a prank, I didn’t notice until now.” I place the list back down on the checkout counter. “Sorry about that.”
“Well, Halloween is only a day away,” Meg says, like it’s nothing now, and shifts her attention to Ace. We walk over and she squats beside his table. “Are you excited to go trick-or-treating, Ace?”
“Yes.” He smiles up at her from his stick figure drawing of what appears to be a man in black with a wide smile and fire for fingers… Fabulous. He’s everywhere…
“I see you’re getting into the Halloween spirit with that fantastic artwork!” Meg says, admiring his picture.
“This is Legend,” Ace explains, as if everyone should know who Legend is.
I can’t help but hope this is the first and only drawing of Legion he intends to create.
Although Dean would never hold it against him, I imagine he’d take issue with this, too.
The last thing I want is either of their feelings hurt over something so innocent.
After all, Legion has always been one to leave a lingering impression.
I should be ecstatic over the fact that The Twisted Throttle is fairly packed tonight.
It’s certainly been a while since the roadhouse has seen this amount of patronage.
Maybe Viking is right. Maybe things are turning around.
Despite the positive atmosphere tonight, pangs of anxiety have been wreaking havoc on me all day.
“How are you gonna approach this shit with Vanna, bro?” Viking asks. “Will she go along with it? Are you gonna tell her what he’s holding over Axel?”
I attempt to swallow the painful knot in my throat.
I wouldn’t even need to tell her… My insides are all twisted up with an intense jealousy I’ve managed to keep at a low simmer these last three years.
Legion’s return has cranked this torturous emotion up more than a few notches, and a territorial rage is brewing inside me like a storm gaining power over ocean waters.
I unclench my aching jaw to growl, “He knew he’d drive me to do this, too…
Access to her is the only thing he really wants.
” And he isn’t going to stop. He isn’t going to back off.
He’s forcing me to come to terms with this reality.
Forcing me to accept his presence, knowing damn well I’ve only got the fucking illusion of choice in the matter.
He knows I’d rather be aware of their encounters than find out they’ve happened in secret.
He’s protecting her honor by going about everything in this way, too.
I can feel the pulse in my corded neck as rage and resentment continue to build.
He’s getting everything he wants, boxing me into this position of consensual non-consent!
“Don’t worry, Dean,” Viking attempts to reassure me. “He’ll never get that with her protected.”
In a way, it sickens me further to admit, “ Legion wouldn’t hurt her.”
I don’t have it in me to voice my true fears.
I can’t bring myself to admit out loud the way her immediate acceptance of his presence, her willingness to assist with him, will gut me.
He’s always had a spell over her, some otherworldly connection I can’t help but feel threatened by, despite my own to her.
“Vanna loves me.”
“Shit, man, of course she does .” Viking places a heavy hand on my shoulder and leans forward to look me in the eyes.
Why did I feel the need to say that out loud?
I’m trembling with rage-laced anxiety at the thought of all the arguments she and I will inevitably get into, courtesy of fuckin’ Legion .
I bet he’s counting on it. I can picture the demon gleefully slamming his hammer down on the wedge positioned against whatever crack he may find in our relationship…
Closing my eyes, I lean back against the brick wall and force myself to take a few steady breaths.
“Maxie, bring my man a double shot of JD and a Miller, pronto ,” Viking orders one of the newer Lady Lays.
“Sure thing,” she replies, heels clunking on the hardwood as she steps closer to me. “Are you alright, honey?” Her hand presses lightly against my knee, and the intrusive touch pushes me over the edge.
“Forget it. I’m going to check on my wife ,” I say, getting up from the stool. I brush past the all too eager to please blonde bombshell and head for the corridor beyond the bar.
Vanna is already exiting my old club room, quietly closing the door behind her when I approach. “Ace just fell asleep,” she whispers while clipping the baby monitor to the waistband of her long skirt. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, we do. Gym or War Room?”
“Back patio?”
“That works too.”