Chapter 15
Scarlett
Emma Jean is my first stop. Not because I don’t want to see my grandma—I do, desperately—but because I have this horrible, hot ache in my chest when I think about Emma at the P-Trip track, wearing lingerie beneath her coat and trembling.
I need to see with my own eyes that she’s okay. I need to hear with my own ears that Ash took care of her this week, that he didn’t let anything happen to her. Having faith in him doesn’t mean putting on blinders. All information must be verified.
Also, I needed a moment away from the boys.
After tonight, we may never have alone moments again, so I may as well take advantage.
Facts, not feelings. Check on Emma. Check on Gram.
Take everyone I love away from this house—take the half-dead police chief—and run.
Steal some luxury cars on our way out. Yep. That’s the plan.
I pause in the hallway just outside Emma’s door and call Nisha and Bastian on video chat.
I have hundreds of notifications on my phone, but other than skimming them to make sure there aren’t any other pressing emergencies, I don’t check them.
The whole of Prescott will know that my house is on fire by this point.
Handling gossipy notifications is not at the top of my current priority list. I’ll have my friends deal with them while I sort out the mayhem under the mayor’s roof.
“Explain.” Nisha is breathless, as close to panic as I’ve ever heard.
Basti, too. He’s clutching a hand in the front of his flannel shirt like he’s about to have a heart attack.
There’s a cup of coffee at his elbow, propped on one of his abuela‘s crocheted coasters. They both look like they’ve been up since we left Wesley’s, alerted to news of the fire at my house with absolutely zero word from me.
That must’ve been scary. I feel bad having waited this long to contact them. Shit, I should’ve called them before I showered.
“Ash shot and killed Alexis,” I say before I lose my nerve, and then my knees give out and I’m catching myself with a hand on the wall. What have I done? Who have I become? A laugh builds in the back of my throat, and I am absolutely sure of it in that moment.
I am insane.
I am fucking psycho.
I am. Because I’m not mad at Ash for executing my sister. He did me a favor. I feel tender toward him because I know he was trying to spare me the pain of it. How am I supposed to explain that to my best friends? The hurt in me comes from Lexi’s knife in my back, not Ash’s bullet in her head.
“Ash…what?” Nisha hisses as Basti groans.
“I knew it. I’ve known it all along. Rich boys can’t be trusted. Scar, you were the one that taught me that lesson!” Bastian’s hysterical, and I get it. We’ve been through a lot this year. They grew up with Alexis, and they just lost Lemon. It’s too much.
With a sigh, I allow myself to crumple artfully to the floor, back against the wall.
Nisha is cold and serious. Bastian’s eyes are red-rimmed with dark bags underneath.
That laugh finally tears out of me as I slump back on my ass, realizing that everything in this town that’s been winding up is about to come unraveled.
I’m about to be whipped by the consequences of my own decisions.
And every move I make is critical.
“So, what do we do? Where is he? Where are you?” Nisha asks, her face free of makeup but her body cloaked all in black. She was ready to come for me. She would have, too, no matter the risk to her own life.
“Are you…not upset with him?” Bastian wonders, staring at me through the screen like he has no idea who I am right now. I must look as unhinged on the outside as I am on the in. Damn, and I thought I was hiding my psycho so well.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mumble, chewing at my thumbnail in thought.
“Alexis sold me out, knowing that the end goal was for me to end up dead. She tried to kill me, and Ash only gave her what she deserved.” I say that shit like this is normal for us.
People dying. Hah. I literally never wanted this life.
You know what I do want? I want to be on the silver screen.
I want to be a star. Murder and starlight, are they mutually exclusive?
“Sister or not, what other punishment is there for assassination other than execution?”
“You’re not a crime boss!” Nisha shouts at me, panting.
She paces the room with her phone in hand, and I know she’s furious with me.
This is it, either the moment she realizes we’re stuck together for life or the moment she leaves.
Our make or break moment. “Scarlett, you are a high school student. You…” She trails off and stops walking, just staring at me.
“You’re…” A long sigh as Nisha puts a hand over her face.
“Prescott, born and raised. After tonight’s display at Wesley’s, I sort of assumed we were going down a pretty dark path. ”
My heart aches. I think of KMZI 66.6. I listen to that radio station because of Alexis, and the whole neighborhood listens to it because of me. Her lighter, Ash had it last…
“I’m upset about Alexis, but I’m also in the mayor’s house. My childhood home is on fire. Gram…ahh…Gram.” I’m staring at the ground with a strange half-smile on my face. “My grandma is here, waiting to talk to me. Emma Jean, also here.”
“The mayor’s house…how? Why?” Nisha looks at me through the screen like she wants to wrap her hands around my throat and strangle me. I wouldn’t blame her. This situation is wild.
“Bolin and his goon-for-hire cop buddies were out lookin’ for us tonight.
Make sure our crew knows I’m okay and that I wanted the house fire to happen.
Tell everyone.” I make a face. “Tell Jennifer so she can tell everyone. Get out there and spread that goss wide.” I point at the phone screen.
“Stay safe. Watch your families. Watch your backs. If anything happens, call me. Call Bohnes. Call Widow.”
“Hey.” Nisha peers in at me, her expression full of love for me that I probably don’t deserve but that I’m so lucky to have. “We’re your backup, not more liabilities for you to worry about. Bastian and I are Prescott by blood, too, remember?”
I smile at her, and it cracks a little, but it’s there. I was right about Ash. I was right. I chose right.
“Question though,” Bastian starts, and I already know what said question is going to be before he even asks. “Why do you look like you just got out of the shower, hmm?” His voice is shaking, but he’s trying to keep the mood light. Once we hang up this call, he’ll probably weep for Alexis.
“Uh, washing blood off obviously,” I retort with a scoff, pushing a few wet strands of hair back from my face. I could explain where the new LBD and heels came from and why I chose to wear them. Armor. This is my armor.
“I know you didn’t just fuck that guy after he set your damn house on fire.” Bastian’s lips are pursed and he sighs dramatically. I can see the tears at the corners of his eyes that he’s trying so hard to hide. “You know what? You have inspired me to remain single for some time.”
“I’m hanging up,” I tell him, but my eyes are on Nisha’s half of the screen.
In the background, I can see a figure curled up in a lump on her bed, purple and green hair poking out of the nest of blankets.
The hacker gargoyle has been captured. Nisha is by no means a virgin, but Hype is her first official fuckgirl. “I love you both, you know that right?”
“We love you, too, Queen.” Nisha’s mouth twitches at the sound of Hype groaning in her bed. “Don’t get too glib. This shit is heavy and you already suffered through Lemon alone. If you need to talk this out, talk to us.”
“I will,” I promise, my voice catching, but then the door beside me jiggles and the moment is broken. Am I being spied on by Miss Emma Jean Thompson?
“I love you, babe. Text every thirty minutes or I’m going to think you’re dead.
” Basti sniffles and hangs up first, leaving Nisha’s face to fill the screen before she blows me a kiss and hangs up, too.
Alexis is dead, my brain reminds me. The world is not normal.
Life will never be the same again. I wonder what our last picture looked like?
I shove up to my feet and use the skeleton key to unlock the door.
Suburbs is waiting there with her ear pressed to the wood, eavesdropping. She stumbles back a few feet, wide-eyed and adorable in a pair of fuzzy white pajamas with hearts on them.
“The fuck?” I wonder, and then she’s throwing her arms around my neck and hugging me so tightly that I can’t breathe.
For whatever reason, my arms go around her and I hug her back, as if she’s one of my girls.
One of my crew. Aw, man. I picked up a sweet lil Suburbs for my gang.
“Nice to see that my hunches were correct and you’re not really Aspen’s obedient sex slave/captive. ”
Emma draws away from me, putting her hands on either side of my face and peering into my eyes.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your sister,” she says gently, in that very middle-class way of hers where people talk about their feelings like it’s no big thing.
I slap her away and plant my hands on my hips.
My eyes scan the room, but other than it being luxe as hell, there’s nothing amiss.
Just a typewriter on a table and a stack of paper beside it.
My crazy-eye twitch starts up again.
“You use a typewriter? Jesus, Emma Jean. Get over yourself.” I stand there in the doorway, feeling this strange sense of relief sweep over me. Far-fetched as it seemed, I knew in my gut that Ash had collected Emma Jean for her own good. That he’d keep her safe.
I exhale and even though my sister is dead—my sister is dead, fuck—I feel a little better.
“Well, not usually, but Ash confiscated all of my electronics.” Emma wanders over to the table, picking up a mug of tea and holding it out to me. “Want one? I’m fully stocked in here.”