Chapter 26 #2
“I knew we wouldn’t lose a single bitch,” Nisha murmurs as the whispering shifts into excited voices and then laughter. It ricochets through the crowd as they realize what this means for us. Getting out of Prescott. Just like I said we would.
The tattoo machine tickles my ribs and makes me hiss a little at the sensation.
The artist chick swipes the ink off my skin, smearing a bit of blood. I have my arms lifted above my head and crossed, my shirt pushed up enough that a bit of my bra is showing. The ink looks fierce, seared into my flesh like that.
I look up and survey the crowd.
“Who’s next?” I ask, standing up and stepping aside for Nisha. She takes her top off entirely, revealing a sports bra underneath, and claims that chair like she’s on a photoshoot. Damn. “And here I thought I was the hottest bitch in Prescott.”
Nisha laughs at me, rubbing her hand over her buzzed hair. The Korean phrase that was shaved there is still visible, if a little overgrown. Good to know that it’s not just me and Lemon who fall hard and fast. Nisha’s been bitten by the love-bug, too. Hype isn’t here tonight though.
“You’re equally hot bitches.” Bastian stands in front of the chair, hands on his hips, teardrops stuck at the edges of his eyes.
Tonight is bittersweet for all of us, like a piece of old dark chocolate in the chaotic nightmare that is the bottom of my purse.
“Doubt you’ll call me the hottest guy in Prescott now.
” He gives me a dark look that I meet with a smirk.
“I got men to look after, brother.” I drop my head back with a laugh, closing my eyes against the dying silver light of the moon.
The clouds are wild tonight, blacking out the sky and then flashing by.
We’ve got plenty of cars with their headlights on, illuminating the darkness.
Our tattoo chick has a battery-powered lantern for light.
Yup. That’s how we roll out here in South Prescott.
“You’re still the hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” I say finally, when Basti offers up a sad moue. It’s awful, with the tears clinging to his lashes. I can’t resist. Fuckboys be damned. Husbands be damned.
“Thank you, Queen.” He sweeps a bow as Nisha’s art is finished up, blending into her beautiful skin like it was always meant to be one cohesive design.
She stands up and puts a palm over the plastic covering.
We lock eyes, committing our lives to one another on this frigid track in the middle of hell.
Basti takes a seat as Nisha and I clasp hands and bump shoulders.
“I’m scared as hell, won’t lie about that.
The only person I’d follow into this madness is you, Scar.
” Nisha presses a kiss to my right cheek, an innocent move that puts all four of my idiot lovers in a tizzy.
Are they…shit, yeah, the four of them are whispering together.
It kills me to be left out of the conversation.
I stay by Bastian’s side while he gets his tattoo and tries not to cry at the idea of Lem’s ashes being mixed into the ink.
When he finishes up, I remain where I am.
I’m determined to be there for every single one of my girls, making sure they look right at me while they’re being tattooed.
Every single one of them, we have our connection.
I’ll always know exactly who they are, for better or worse.
The men aren’t allowed to leave me because I’ll kill them.
If one of my girls betrays me now, I won’t hesitate like I did with Alexis.
They know that.
It’s only at the end of the night, after I’ve sent everyone home, that I turn to the boys again. I hold out a hand to indicate the folding table and Treasure’s irreverent but highly talented cousin-whatever.
“All four of you are going to get the same tattoo—but on this finger.” I lift up my left hand and gesture with my ring finger. “In black. Repeating pairs of moons in a half-circle, like a wedding ring. Four crescents to represent y’all, and a full moon in the middle for yours truly.”
Bohnes frowns as he lifts up a too-pale hand, turning it from side to side in the moonlight.
He’s already got black bone tattoos there.
It’s why I adjusted the design the way I did.
The two pairs of crescent moons are set apart a bit, to accommodate Bohnes’ fingerbone ink between them.
That’s where the full moon will go, between the two sets of back-to-back Cs.
The drawing is impeccable. I had one of my artsier girls help out with it. She is impeccable and so is this design.
“Won’t such an obvious gang tattoo hinder your future career?” Widow asks, sounding like he wants to commit violence. I did legally marry Alexei this morning and I know he can’t stand it. He hates it. It’s consuming him. He needs some quality attention. And sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Besides the artist, we’re the only ones left at the track now. The shadows are long and stretched behind us, contrasted against slim silver bars of moonlight. It could be dangerous to sit here as exposed as we are.
But I have these unholy lovers.
I’ve cultivated the perfect crew.
“Thanks for looking after my future career,” I reply slyly as Ash rises from the hood of the Pantera, pausing beside me.
His eyes are so fucking strange and empty.
He’s so convinced of his own horrible ending that he’s struggling as badly now as he was before we kidnapped him. “That’s what makeup is for.”
Widow’s expression narrows in on me, looking for a weakness, a place to attack. I find him honestly fucking thrilling. He keeps me on my toes.
“Marking a special occasion with ritual is a beautiful thing,” Ash whispers, his hood up and his eyes black pits in a white face. He takes a bow. “Oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi.”
“Demons out, fortune in?” Widow retorts, and Ash lifts up from his bow with dark hair falling across his eyes. He could use a trim, too. I’ll take the boys to Treasure’s fuckboy to get their hair cut. I want all of my boy trinkets shined up for the wedding.
“How much Japanese do you speak?” Ash murmurs back, genuine curiosity on his faerie face.
Widow grunts, folding his arms, annoyed with Ash in a more playful way than before.
“Nihongo ga sukoshi wakarimasu.” Widow shrugs as Ash lets a rare sweet smile take over his lips. “Whenever you talk, you sound like you’re reading your own epitaph. Be grateful that Scarlett has your back the way she does.”
Ash’s black lashes fan against his porcelain cheeks, his eyes downcast. He glows in the moonlight.
“The three of you having the same tattoo as me makes me nervous. If it’s what you want, I’ll do it. I’m just advising you that it’s safer not to.” He lifts his left hand up, studying his naked skin. “The last thing I want is for anyone else to suffer because of me. I’m sick of it.”
“Advice accepted. Processed. Rejected.” I point at the throne chair, snapping my fingers at him in a way that would start a fight with any of the other three.
Ash sits, edgy but compliant. He grips the chair and keeps his attention scanning around the empty racetrack.
Much as I’d like to race my unhinged lovers tonight, it’s a bad idea.
If we’re going to race, we need most of Prescott High and a good load of Fuller and Oak Valley students here.
Safer that way. Shouldn’t stay here much longer tonight.
Ain’t nobody going to stop me from initiating my crew in the one place that matters though.
Treasure’s cousin gets started, and Ash squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in severe emotional pain.
Didn’t he hear what I said to Alexei? This mark is only going to be dangerous for a short while.
“What about you, killer?” I ask, turning and nearly bumping into Bohnes. He’s standing directly behind me, and I never saw him move. Strong fingers curl around my wrist, squeezing it in a way I find comforting. The boogeyman doesn’t exist under my bed, he sleeps in it with me and three other men.
Shit, I got married today. Reality overtakes me like a cold wave, standing there at the frozen, muddy track while some chick I’ve only met once inks my dead bestie’s ashes into other people’s skin.
No, I’m getting married tonight, not just to Alexei but to all of them.
This is it. We’re having a ratchet Prescott wedding here at the track.
Committing to psychos—and being a psycho yourself—when you make commitments like these, they tend to stick. We’re more likely to murder one another than we are to break up. This is what I chose. This is it.
The wave recedes, leaving very little debris behind. I feel better than I thought I would, putting Lemon to rest. It’s heavy, having her funeral at the same time that I’m having my wedding.
Bohnes is staring right at me, waiting for me to work through my own thoughts.
“I’m your Nightmare. I don’t need a symbol or a ring.
” Bohnes puts his hands on my shoulders, sliding them toward my neck and taking hold of it.
He sighs. Dramatically. “But if this is absolutely important to you, then what’s another bit of ink?
” Bohnes smiles and it’s as sharp as the pointed ends of the crescent moons being inked onto Ash’s pale finger.
“You can go next then.” I pat his chest and he catches my hand, weaving our fingers together like a doily made of human flesh and bones. Delicate and macabre.
“This is not my first funeral,” he says, changing the word rodeo without mistake. “Let someone else have a turn. I want to see the germaphobe get a dead body injected into his skin.”
“I’m afraid you’ll find me quite boring.
” Alexei has gone cold in anticipation of the tattoo, facing it like he faces life-or-death moments.
He’s a mob boy painted in moon stripes, half prince and half convict.
“Exaggerated theatrics will do me no good. Beginning a marriage with Scarlett—and the three of you—is quite serious. I assure you, I can behave myself.”
Alexei gags, putting his gloved hand over his mouth and shutting his eyes.