Chapter 5
Kayla
It has been almost a week since I last entered the bar.
I’m still angry, yet all I want to do is make sure Vero is okay.
But I can’t risk it. In the past, I missed all the red fucking flags when it came to men, and I will not be that woman again.
A man can say the right thing after he fucked up, but I know better than to buy into it.
Flowers started arriving at my house a few days ago.
I rolled my eyes when Mabel gave me the first bunch, but I have been taking them inside and putting them in whatever I can find because the flowers did nothing to me and they smell nice.
But no matter how pretty they are, flowers do not make up for what he did.
More arrive every day, and I now give them to Mabel to hand out to her friends from the book club.
Thankfully, Rogue is letting me come back to work tonight. I have been going crazy staying at home watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy, so it was work or a felony charge.
The second I walk round the corner onto the street of the bar, I see Rogue standing out the front vaping. She gives me a look that says we need to talk, and I sigh but stop.
“Lay it on me,” I say, and she laughs.
“Thought you might want to see this,” she says.
I tilt my head, what the heck is she talking about?
I follow her into the bar, and freeze. The entire bar is filled with flowers, not just a few bunches, but every single surface is covered, bunches big and small. Some in vases, others in glasses. It smells like a florist in here.
Bianca is standing behind the bar holding a bunch, her nose pressed into the petals.
“What the fuck,” I whisper to myself.
Rogue holds up her phone, and I see the text messages.
Hi this is Vero, I am so sorry about your bar. Please send me the bill.
Please give the flowers to Kayla and tell her they are from all of us.
More are coming, do you have enough vases?
I will send more just in case.
“I’ll need a truck,” I mutter, and Rogue’s face scrunches up.
“You need a what?”
“A truck, Rogue. Does anyone have a truck?”
“I do.” Turning to the side, I see Marco, our delivery driver, smiling as he hands me the keys. “I’m done for the night, just have her back here by morning.”
“Thank you.”
It takes over an hour and a half for me to load the truck, though another delivery came while I was packing up the flowers, so I made the driver load those up too.
There is barely any room left for me to close the doors, and Bruce helps me push so I can engage the lock.
Then I leave it parked in the lot while I go back to work.
For my entire shift, I watch the clock as the hours drag by, which makes my anger reach its breaking point. Rogue lets me clock off at midnight, and I race straight out to the truck.
The entire drive to the island, I try to figure out my plan, but by the time the bridge comes into view, I still have no idea. All I know is they can have the damn things back; I don’t want them.
The gates are open, and I drive straight in and park. Jumping down from the driver’s side, I walk around and open the back doors. A few bouquets fall onto the ground, and I smile.
I pull out bunches, throwing them onto the ground. Some don’t go far—they are heavy fuckers—but others make it to the entrance of the alley.
I build up a satisfying rhythm, picking them up and throwing them, and though I hear movement, I don’t stop.
While I’m grabbing another bunch, the first person appears—it’s Vero—and I launch flowers at his head.
He catches them and looks fucking happy about it.
That only infuriates me more, so I hurl another bouquet at him, but he jumps out of the way.
The other three show up and stop behind Vero.
Each one is still dressed in costume, and that makes my chest hurt in a way I was not expecting.
It’s like they’ve moved on in less than a week.
Assholes.
“Fuck you!” I yell at Clay and pitch a bunch at him. “You choked me and almost killed me.” Then I pick up the biggest bunch I can see. “And fuck you for beating up an entire bar and thinking flowers would fix that.”
Vero doesn’t move; he lets them hit him and drop to the ground.
I turn to Ares next with a smaller bunch and launch them at him. “And fuck you.” I pause because I cannot form the right words for his transgression. “For whatever the fuck it was that you did.”
He sidesteps the projectile and tilts his head at me as if he’s confused. Fuck you, buddy, you know exactly what you did.
Picking up another bunch, I glare at Brawley. “And fuck you too. I knew your loyalty would never lie with me, which is fine, I get it, but fuck you anyway.”
I throw bouquet after bouquet as they watch. By the time I get to the last bunch, I look at them surrounded by flowers. “Fuck you all, you can kiss my fucking ass.”
I didn’t want to cry, I’m not that kind of girl, but tears are rolling down my cheeks.
They look at each other and Clay fucking nods, then one by one they put their masks on.
Clay pulls up his bandanna, Vero pulls on his Hannibal mask, Ares has his glow mask, and Brawley has his face paint on already.
My stomach drops. Fuck no, they are not doing what I think they are.
“Fuck you,” I yell, flipping them off with both hands.
“Fuck you all for making me miss you.” I look at each of them.
“You all fucking suck. I hate that I missed you. That I couldn’t be pissed off in peace without my chest feeling like it wanted to cave in.
” I wave my hands wildly in the air because they are all responsible for how I am feeling.
“I’m not forgiving you just because you sent me flowers, so you can all go eat a dick. ”
I make the mistake of looking at Vero when I say it, and he smiles—I know because the skin at the outer corners of his eyes crinkles.
“Except you,” I say, pointing at him. “Because you would enjoy it. You can deep throat a cactus.”
“I’m so sorry, paper-cut princess. So, so, so fucking sorry,” Vero says.
“Don’t,” I warn him. “Don’t you dare say sorry, it’s just a word. If you were so sorry, you never would have done it in the first place.”
“Do you know what I think?” Clay says, and I turn to him. “You could have just thrown them in the garbage, but you came here instead.”
“Fuck you.”
“I think Clay is right,” Brawley says, taking a step closer to me. “You can curse at us all you like, and you’re right, my loyalty is with them. But what I won’t stand for is this bullshit.”
I jump down from the truck and come face-to-face with him. Well, I have to look up at his face but it still counts.
“Bullshit? Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Brawley reaches down and grabs my chin. “You told us to get the fuck out of your life yet here you are back in ours. So what will it be? Are you going to fuck right back off to where you came from, Double P, or are you going to run?”
I shake my head, knocking his hand away. “Fuck you, I am here returning what I don’t want.”
“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” Clay says, and I flip him off.
“Tut-tut, you know he likes you feisty,” Brawley says, stepping back. “Now you have a choice to make.”
I look between them; they are absolutely out of their minds.
“I think you better run now,” Ares adds.
Clay takes a few steps toward me, and I turn and run, but there is no way this is ending the way they think.
The alley is loud and full of people as I race through it, but no one looks my way. Apparently, a woman running at full speed is nothing they haven’t seen before.
I pass the gift shop and a man in a doctor’s mask turns to watch me. I don’t slow down, ducking beneath a string of lights hanging between two posts, and coming out the other side.
The circus tent is lit up, and I dash toward it, pushing through the entrance flap.
The music in here is deafening, and there is a man in the center of the ring wearing a devil mask.
He tips his head back and breathes out fire.
I wish I could stop and watch, but I keep moving, running past Karo on his platform, where a woman is strapped to his spinning board.
She is laughing, and Karo has blades in his hands.
He releases one, and it lands beside her head.
I find the rear entrance and race back outside.
The cornfield looms ahead, and I move toward it, coming to a stop when I reach the edge. Vero warned me about coming here, and I saw the genuine fear in his eyes when he told me.
Fuck it—I take a step inside.
The corn is so tall it swallows me, and the sound it makes as I move forward has my heart thumping. But fuck them; I would rather face the Scarecrow than let them catch me. I don’t bother running, as from what I’ve been told, he will already know I’ve entered his domain and he will be watching.
I see him when I get to the center of the field. If you didn’t know, you would think he was a fake scarecrow put here to scare away the crows, but I know differently. I pause. He is eerily still—maybe he didn’t hear me. His head is bowed, and his arms hang at his sides.
Then his head whips up.
I don’t make any sudden movements as he drops from his post and lands on bare feet. He straightens and circles me.
I turn with him, not wanting to take my eyes off him.
He finally stops, and he is so tall I have to strain my neck to stare at his face.
His amber eyes look as if they are almost glowing, and he has dark and messy hair that sticks out from under a floppy hat.
His clothes are old and torn, with straw poking out of his shoulders and collar, and there’s rope around his neck. Damn, he has really nailed his costume.
“Most people run when the noise gets too loud. But I am what stays. I am what sits on the floor with you when you cannot get up. I am rarer than love, and most people never truly find me.”
His voice is strange, sounding as if it originates further away than his mouth. I stare at him, and he tilts his head.
“Answer the riddle wrong and you will get lost in here,” he says slowly. “Right answer means I won’t follow you out, and one day you will repay the favor.”
“A friend,” I say without overthinking my answer.
He goes completely still as I hold his gaze. I don’t look away, because it feels like if I do, I might get lost either way. He tilts his head at a weird angle as he looks at me and narrows his eyes.
“No one ever answers right,” he says.
“Then you need a better riddle.”
He stares at me for a minute and steps back. “You have my protection. I won’t let them find you.”
He turns and walks into the cornstalks, and I watch until I can no longer see him.
In the distance, I hear Vero yell “this way,” and I move faster, heading toward their house.
Though I don’t know what I plan to do when I get there.
Vero calls my name, but I keep walking, the rows seeming to go on forever.
When I come out on the other side, it’s not where I was planning. I’m at the cemetery.
“Nobody move,” Brawley says, and then Vero screams.
I laugh; it serves them right.
“Why is he not blinking? What is wrong with him? Someone tell me what’s wrong with him.
Oh shit, oh shit, I’m going to pass out.
brAWLEY! He just touched me—he just reached out and touched my face.
Someone help me! Stop laughing—this isn’t funny.
Oh fuck. Fuck! What is he going to do with that?
What even is that? Is that a sword made out of corn?
Can you make a sword out of corn? Is that a real thing?
Can you die by corn sword? I don’t want to die by corn sword—that is not how I go out.
Nobody put death by corn sword on my grave, or I will come back and haunt you.
brAWLEY, IF YOU ARE LAUGHING, I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!
Why is he still not blinking?” Vero’s words during the karmic justice have me stifling a cackle.
Hoping to use the distraction to slip away, I turn, but bump into a solid body. A hand tangles in my hair, forcing me to look up and meet Clay’s eyes.
“You should have kept running.”
“I should have,” I sass, and he grips my hair tighter and pulls me into his body. “But I plan to make this difficult for you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he replies, and my body betrays me. I may want this, but I still won’t make this easy on them. They don’t deserve that.