Chapter 10 #3
His mouth, the shape of it. Looks and tastes like filthy-unwanted-Prescott-boy.
My absolute favorite flavor. The smell of blood on my hands is making me feral, like a shark.
My pupils are blown out, and I can see perfectly well in the shadows.
Bohnes is not here tonight. Alexei is not here. Ash is babysitting my sister for me.
Widow is…Widow…He hit my car today. He is the one who pushed the Pantera off the track. We’ve never had a car go out-of-bounds with no driver. It would’ve been an ambiguous win, even if I had managed to make up those lost laps.
“If you don’t walk away from me right now, I’m going to cut your balls off and then you’ll never have that child you so desperately want.
” I keep my voice to a low whisper, a scream-queen smile pasted onto my face.
Widow takes my arm and pulls me away from the crowd and toward the trees at the edge of the lot.
When he releases me, I’ve already got my bloody fork in hand.
“Alright. Get your balls out. I fuckin’ warned you.” I lift the utensil and Widow at least has the presence of mind to take a few steps back.
“I’m trying to help you, Scarlett,” he grinds out between clenched teeth, gesturing in the direction of the parking lot like he’s beyond frustrated with me.
“You won that race for Ash-pen. Why? You trust him more than you trust the three of us? He’s a Prescott trap.
You, trying to save him, it’s going to end with your suffering. ”
“It’s not me that doesn’t trust you.” I walk toward him, pointing with the tines of the fork.
It’d feel so damn good to stab someone else right now.
But not my own well-meaning but stupid as hell fuckboy.
“It’s you not trusting my judgment. I’m furious with all three of you.
Ash-pen, too, but he’s at least trying to drive his own heart into the sword.
” I rub at my temple with my free hand, fighting off another migraine.
My period is late. If I don’t get it soon, I’m in trouble. I hope this headache has nothing to do with that issue. I’ve been taking my birth control regularly, but there was that handful of days at the hospital. Plus the medications they gave me. I…God. I can’t deal with thoughts like that tonight.
“Excuses for him. Excuses, excuses, excuses.” Widow puts his hand over his chest and I’m annoyingly reminded of that afternoon in bed.
Making love. Laughing. Lots of laughing.
He shot a cop to protect me. A crooked cop, but a cop nonetheless.
If he gets caught, his juvie ass will be locked up for the rest of eternity.
It’s acts like that, like Alexei saving me from an icy grave, like Bohnes doing literally fucking everything for me, that keep these guys safe from retributional homicide.
I lost a race. I lost my very first race.
“Not excuses, you muscle-bound fuckwit. Facts. What I say about Kelly, just facts. I don’t even need to use my feelings for him as an excuse to ride in on a horse with my sword raised. The facts are enough.” I fold my arms, caressing the bloody fork with my ringed finger. Widow’s ring. Ash’s ring.
I’m missing two.
“You know how I recognize your faults?” Widow continues, mouth set in a furious scowl.
He shows his frustration by burying the fingers of his right hand in his galaxy hair.
Turquoise. Purple. Black. The colors are muted with only the diffused silver light from the moon to illuminate them.
“It’s because we’re exactly alike. Scarlett, we’re carbon copies.
While I’m running after you, you’re running after him.
I just don’t want to see you get hurt by that creep the way your sister is hurting you. The way Lemon hurt you.”
He’s breathing hard, pupils dilated, sweat beading on his strong arms. He cracks his knuckles and turns away from me, frowning and staring into the shadows of the trees. His profile is like street art.
“I love you, Adrian,” I tell him, and it’s easy enough to say.
I see the surprise flash in his eyes as I tuck the fork under my thigh holster.
Widow doesn’t even look at the expanse of my naked thigh or the sexy panties underneath my skirt.
He keeps his attention on my face. “But I don’t like you right now.
You think I’m stupid enough to get played by a fuckboy, huh?
You think I don’t know how to run my own neighborhood? My own crew?”
I turn and start walking away, but he’s not done. Of course he’s not. Because both he and I can’t help but try to get in the last word.
“The only difference between us is that I bury my trauma and you flaunt yours.” Adrian sounds as frantic as I feel.
He’s right though: I’m covered in red. In my sister’s blood.
In my trauma. “I will die for you. I’ll kill for you.
And I love you, too, Scarlett. I love you so fucking much.
My only desire in life is for you to win, baby. ”
I glance over my shoulder to see that he has his head tipped back, his steepled hands pressed into his mouth and trembling.
Something big is coming. A storm. We can all feel it, broken tibia or not.
Those hot-honey eyes of his are absolutely blazing as he stares into the tangle of branches above us.
“Yeah? Me, too. You belong to me, and so does Ash-pen. You should take comfort in the depths of my loyalty. I’m not some shallow bitch who goes turncoat at the promise of an easy way out.” I ignore him and exit the trees to find my besties waiting for me.
“Joint?” Bastian asks, trying to act like his eyes aren’t red-rimmed.
Like everything is okay. Like we didn’t lose the fourth member of our group and we won’t be sad forever about it.
Hearing Alexis disrespect Lem like that was hard on Basti.
I would’ve stabbed her just for that. “It’s pineapple express. I know that’s your favorite strain.”
I smile at him and take the hand-rolled joint from his fingers, closing my eyes as I lift it to my nose and inhale deep. A little bit of sweet cannabis. Another pie shake. Everything will be okay.
I know what I’m doing. But I have been drinking plenty of pie shakes lately. Sandra is right.
“Crank up the radio.” I open my eyes and draw the stolen lighter from my skirt pocket.
I flick it for a flame at the same time that I flick my tongue against the edge of my lips.
I find a seat on the hood of the Devil while Basti jacks the music and Nisha stays by my side, hands on her hips.
“Don’t you have a fuckgirl to schmooze?” I ask as Hype pulls into the parking lot in the minivan she showed up at the track in.
Like Cinderella, her borrowed race car only lasted so long.
“I have a Queen to serve above everything else.” Nisha steps forward and puts her hands on the hood, right between my legs, leaning in until our faces are nearly touching.
We’re ringed in fragrant white smoke from my first drag on the joint.
I’m not angry. I don’t care that I lost. I’m not upset with my lovers.
I don’t care about Alexis. Pretend long enough, become an expert.
“For what it’s worth, I might not understand you, but I trust you. Implicitly.”
Nisha draws back, stealing the joint from my fingers and then calling out to Hype while I’m surrounded by girls offering trinkets. Telling me how I totally won that race, technicalities aside. Lamenting the uselessness of men. I appreciate it all, but I can’t relax.
Because it’s a full moon and nothing good happens in Prescott on a full moon.