Chapter 8 #4
“Doesn’t everyone already know?” she repeats, but she knows what he means. Not just here in Prescott. Or with her crew. The world. The internet. Her future career. Scarlett’s lips flatten and she slides her gaze over to Ash. He looks right back at her.
“Tell everyone the truth.” Ash stares at the ink on his left hand, a forlorn expression on his face.
There’s a tragic poetry in him, like he was born marked for an early death.
“Except when it comes to me. Your crew and your friends know. Nobody else needs to. Once we deal with Jonas, the world will wonder about his horrid son and people like Emma Jean will start digging. Not only will both Aspen’s and Ash’s pasts threaten your dreams, but the family doesn’t seem to want anyone knowing I’m here. ”
“He’s not being dramatic,” Widow announces, speaking up for Ash without ever looking up from his plate. “We discussed this for hours last night. He’s finally talkin’ sense. Be loud and proud about turning me, Bohnes, and Alexei into cucks. Let’s just avoid the subject of Ash when we can.”
Scarlett isn’t happy. Her expression is edging toward a scowl. Reaching down, I curl my fingers with hers under the table.
“Ash can hide in plain sight when it comes to the public eye. A bodyguard. An assistant. Whatever title you want to give him. In private, he’ll always be a husband.
A wife. A homemaker.” I gesture at Scarlett’s food as she twirls her fork in the yolk-soaked rice.
I’ll need to start cooking again, show off my own skills while observing Ash’s to see if he can be trusted to be hygienic.
“Our emotional, sexual, and romantic experiences are nobody else’s business. ”
I lift our joined hands to my lips and press a kiss to Scarlett’s warm skin. She seems surprised that my emotional responses haven’t lessened in the presence of the other boys.
Scarlett blinks rapidly at me, smile shifting into something sweet.
That sweetness lasts less time than the span of a breath, but that fleetingness and that rarity are what make the expression so indescribably wondrous.
“Are you and Bohnes implying that cooking and cleaning is women’s work?
You said wife. He said Mrs. Force.” Scarlett uses her fork to tap me and then Bohnes on the forehead.
She then…oh God…she continues to eat with that same fork.
I press gloved fingers to the spot where she touched me, but I’m not nearly as disturbed by that as I am by her mouth on those dirty tines.
“Ash doesn’t have to lie low yet. Jonas knows he’s here.
Burt knows he’s here. We’ll just have Hype make sure he’s a perfect social media ghost. Last thing we need is to be hunted down and killed over an unfortunate geotag. ”
Bohnes smiles into his coffee before taking another sip.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Scarlett adds.
“All of you. It’ll be the best in the end, I swear.
I’m going to take all five of us sky-high.
” She lifts her hand, palm high above the table.
“Everyone in this neighborhood will aspire to be me. I’m going to show them all.
Anyone that wants a ticket out of here can have it with the proper dedication. ”
“And mass murder,” Widow adds snarkily, taking the last bite of his food and setting his fork carefully on the plate. He turns back to me, smirking. “Think we could squeeze in the title transfer today? Make a quick stop at the DMV.”
“You son of a bitch,” Scarlett grumbles, flicking food at him. I almost run from the table. Yet, I don’t want to miss a moment of this. I’m enjoying myself.
“I can always kill him when you’re ready,” Bohnes promises, lifting his coffee in salute.
“You can sure try,” Widow responds, but it’s half-hearted and without a shred of worry. “Hey, uh, didn’t Burt mention a reception party thing? When the fuck is that? On that note, when’s the wedding?”
“The reception is on Monday. Wedding is Wednesday, followed by a house party hosted by yours truly.” Bohnes takes a weird bow, seated as he is at the table with his knees up. Coffee sloshes onto the floor and Bohnes uses the too-long legs of his sweatpants to wipe it up.
“That’s absolutely ghastly, Kellin,” I tell him, but he only grins at me.
“If the shit hits the fan during any of these events, let me rush my father and finish him.” Ash sits back in his seat, cringing when the sword digs into his back.
He adjusts himself, scooting to the edge of the chair again.
We look at each other this time, acknowledging our shared trauma.
“I can fatally wound him before anyone is able to stop me.”
“What’s the word I’m looking for?” Scarlett mumbles, tapping her lips with a coffin-shaped fingernail. “Right.” She snaps her fingers and points at Ash. “Urusai.”
“Urusai?” he replies, holding his fork in midair and staring at Scarlett like she’s a black hole and he’s rapidly losing himself to her pull. “Try your way, of course. But as a last resort—”
“Are you still trying to go kamikaze on me?” Scarlett wonders and Widow snorts a laugh, sweeping his fingers through his hair. Ash grumbles in Japanese, like he’s frustrated. He then shoves up to his feet, collecting dishes and wearing a pair of my house slippers along with my apron.
“Jonas doesn’t love death and violence the way Chet does.
He loves suffering. He lives for emotional pain.
” He stacks dirty plates together, collecting the handles of empty mugs with his other hand.
“If I had any request at all, one favor I could argue for above all others, it’d be this: be reasonable and rational.
If me throwing myself on a grenade saves everyone else, then order me to do it. ”
He takes off with the dishes and Scarlett rolls her eyes again.