Chapter 3 #2
My heart is wild. My anger is black tentacles wrapped around my chest and squeezing. My hurt is a white-out blizzard. I was hot in the safehouse, even though it was cold. Now, it’s hot inside here and I’m frigid. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. Furious.
“That talent agency guy from this morning…” Alexis begins sardonically, and I wait for the punch line.
I want to hear what she has to say before I punish her for disrespecting Widow.
“He’s going to want you to fuck him for some part as a two-bit extra in a film nobody will see.
” She pauses beside the decorative side table and lifts up the lid on a glass jar, searching for her daily pack of cigarettes.
My mom gets her a pack every single fucking day.
“All schizos smoke, Scarlett. They can’t help it.
That’s what the doctor told me. It’s because of their brain chemistry. ”
Tch. Please. Alexis is more manipulative than I realized. Suppose she is my sister, after all. Force blood.
“You accused my man of something he didn’t do today, Alexis.” My voice is like ice. Both Basti and Nisha step out of my way, exchanging a knowing look. “And when you disrespect my property, you disrespect me.”
Alexis narrows her brown eyes on me, strutting forward in a long t-shirt and panties.
No pants. Bare feet wearing my nail polish.
I recognize the color. I also recognize the shirt.
I recognize the panties, too. She gets up in my face in a way she’s been wanting to do for a long time.
She thinks she knows something that holds power over me.
Since she’s been spying on me, living in the bedroom next door for nearly two decades, surely she should know that I don’t take blackmail well.
“You don’t deserve respect—” she begins.
I knock a quick throat punch into Alexis’ neck and Basti gasps, eyes flicking between the pair of us. Nisha is silent. My sister struggles to breathe as she stumbles back, looking up at me with death in her eyes.
“Get over here and fight me.” I pause to laugh. It’s dry. And sad. It’s a laugh that could catch fire and burn through a million acres of grief. I point at the living room carpet. “Fight me. If you think you’re dominant over me, let’s go.”
I pad into the living room and take up a defensive stance on one side of the rug. Alexis regains her footing, stumbling around the side of the couch with ragged, choking breaths. She glares with indignation, dropping her hand from her throat.
For a minute there, the world is perfectly still.
“Shoulda left Widow out of this,” I tell her, hoping to provoke a response. Alexis knows she can’t win against me in a fight, but I want her to come at me first, so I feel less guilty about it. I hate this. “And don’t worry about that talent agency. They didn’t call you for a reason.”
Alexis lunges with a frustrated scream. She takes a wild swing at me as I duck down and throw a hard punch into her stomach.
She recovers quick, throwing an elbow at the back of my head before I finally tackle her.
Alexis falls to her back on the floor with a grunt, and I pin her wrists, using every ounce of strength I have to hold her still.
My sister is still a Prescott bitch at heart.
She’s the one that trained me, after all. I got beat up like a proper lil’ southside sister, shown the ropes by the women above me. Alexis taught me, and Alexis was great, but now…she’s different. Head trauma. Mental illness. Puberty and time. Doesn’t matter.
She’s not the girl I grew up with. She’s a woman I don’t know.
Lexi glares at me like I’m the one that killed our little brother and our cousins. Like I’m the one who killed Lemon. Like I’m the one who’s betrayed her somehow.
In Prescott, girls mind girls. Alexis’ behavior is my responsibility. I know that.
“Do not touch my fuckboys. Do not look at my fuckboys. Do not even think about my fuckboys.” I sit up and Alexis uses her newfound freedom to swing at me.
I dodge the punch and then hit her back.
She swings again, misses. I hit her again.
There’s blood now, on my knuckles. On her face.
That color I hate so much. The color that I’m named after.
That the world named my crew after. “You picked the wrong horse in this race, Alexis. I’m sorry. Lemon made the same mistake.”
“You don’t have any right!” she screams, struggling to swing at me again. I pin her down easily enough. It’s the words she yells that are rough. I’m glad the rest of our family is at work. “You stole my wallet! And you stole my ticket out of Prescott! You stole it!”
I feel a single tear roll down my face and land on Alexis’ cheek. She thinks I spit on her and she loses it, thrashing and screaming wordlessly.
“Oh, honey, if you only knew that I didn’t need to steal your ticket.
I’ve always had my own.” I study her, and I realize that I was lucky Lemon and I never had a proper ‘last chat’.
This is what it would’ve been like, her insulting me and my headstrong ass acting no better.
Both of us stubborn to the bitter end. Gut-wrenching disappointment.
I release Lexi and back away before she can start again. I’m not going to kill her tonight. I don’t want to kill her at all. I understand Ash a little better in that moment, why he avoided killing Aspen even though it was the right thing to do.
If I minimize my activity around Alexis… Hell, if I move out of this house, there’s nothing more she can do to me, now is there?
Excuses, excuses, Scarlett. I turn to Bastian and Nisha, forcing a smile as Alexis crawls away, still screaming at me. We ignore her. Somewhere in the room, Bohnes vibrates with the need to take over. Wisely, he does not.
“Wesley’s, movies, and cuddles?” I ask with a fake pout. Basti clicks his tongue, taking my wrist and leading me upstairs so he can wash and bandage my hands.
I hear the front door open and then slam shut. Alexis has left—but she won’t be gone for long.
Nisha leans in the doorjamb, dark eyes narrowed on me as I sit on the edge of the bathroom sink.
She has new designs shaved into her hair, little hearts.
Just dozens of little hearts. She rubs a palm over her head, frowning as she watches Bastian play nurse.
He swipes the blood off my hands with a warm cloth, realizing as he does that most of it isn’t mine.
“Are you fucking that hacker girl, Hype? Or whatever her name is. The bitch that’s shaking us down?” I sound so hypocritical and Nisha calls me on it. It’s why she’s the perfect second-in-command.
“Yes. I slept with her. Big deal. I’m not about to throw in and start wearing a wedding ring on my finger. That’s all you, Queen.” Nisha sighs again and stands up, pacing over to my bed to sit on the edge of it. Bastian clucks his tongue.
“Who knew out of the four of us that I’d be the last one to lose it?
” He snickers as he finishes up with my hand, trying to keep the moment light.
It’s nothing like that. I just beat the fuck out of my sister, and I’m pseudo-planning her murder.
He also just said the four of us when there’s only three.
“On the plus side, at least we know where the leak is now. Aspen and Alexis? Dios mío.” He makes the sign of the cross over his chest.
My crew saw Ash and Emma Jean with their own eyes. Even my friends hate him.
I hop off the edge of the sink, wondering where in this house my undead lover is lurking now. Probably under my bed. I want to check so bad, but I don’t want Nisha and Bastian to know he’s there.
We climb into bed together and close the curtains, the three of us lying side by side in the hazy dark. Without Lemon around, there’s a lot more room than there used to be.
I let out another wildfire laugh, and Basti takes my right hand in his. On the other side, a hand sneaks out from under the bed and takes hold of me, a never-ending Nightmare. I can dream of Kellin Bohnes every night if I want, trapped in nightmares and boiling.
I have a long fuse, but my temper…it’s as legendary as my driving.
“Alexis is our only rat. The other rabid fuckboys have turned on Ash, but that’s my job: to protect him.” I stop talking as soon as Bohnes squeezes my wrist, three quick grips in succession. He slithers back under the bed as Alexis sneaks down the hallway, the floor creaking.
Nisha says nothing. Basti is silent.
We eat cold Wesley’s fries and soggy burgers, sip our melted shakes.
The three of us end up taking a nap before we move downstairs to the couch for a movie marathon.
I can’t talk with a traitor running around.
I can’t make myself leave either. I will stay in this house and bear witness to my own failure. My own heartbreak.
Nisha pops some popcorn and brings a huge bowl over to the couch, slathered with melted butter and dashed with salt.
Somehow Bohnes is able to get his hand in the bowl to share though nobody else sees him.
My grandma pats our heads as she passes by after work.
Alexis joins us, and it kills me to see her sitting in that chair like she just wants to participate, her face swollen.
She tells my grandma that a guy did it, and she gets swatted with a rolled-up newspaper. There’s some crying from Gram.
There’s going to be a lot more crying from Gram later, I’ll bet.