Chapter 9 #2
Ash tries to take off like a harried housewife to serve my friends. He really wants Nisha and Bastian to love him. Smart choice. I have to rebuke any dick that doesn’t get along with my friends.
I begrudgingly allow him to go. Silly boy.
“To-go, if you would. Something with a lid to keep the heat in,” Bastian calls out as Ash gives a half-bow, eyes flicking up to Nisha. She scowls at him. Reminds her too much of Aspen, I can tell. I don’t blame her. Ash is wearing the face of the man that caused Lem’s death. It’s a lot.
“And for you?” Ash asks as Nisha snorts, waving her hand dismissively.
“I can get my own coffee, thanks.” She turns to me and I grin, earning her immediate ire.
I can totally tell she dressed up for her fuckgirl.
Hype is supposed to come over today and, uh, move in.
Somewhere. Like, say, the room where Nisha is staying.
“Don’t get started on me this early in the morning, Queen. Focus on the race.”
“All I was gonna say is: you look hot as fuck. That a problem?” I pop a fist on my hip, catching Alexei’s attention. He sweeps me with an assessing gaze and an immediate return of: you look hot as fuck, too, WIFE. He doesn’t say it, but I can hear it. Gross. So fucking gross. I can barely stand it.
He smirks at me, aware that each little affectionate gesture or word is tough on my battle-hardened heart.
“It is if you’re going to segue into a tease about Hype. You got four fuckboys on permanent retainer, so I don’t want to hear shit outta you about my one fuckgirl.” Nisha reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small radio. She turns up the volume and sits it on the counter beside Basti.
As always, KMZI 66.6 is playing.
“—the mayor killed his running opponent, Larron Van Gordon. Maybe not directly, but someone he knows or someone he hired or maybe even his own sons. Doesn’t it seem odd that Ash Kelly—one of the mayor’s twin boys—recently unalived himself?
The other twin—Aspen—his fiance went missing and was only recently found, cremated, and swept under the rug like she never existed.
Sure seems like an awful lot of coincidences. ”
Well, that would be Nessie aka Miss Emma Jean Thompson nee Lee Addison, the girl whose parents were killed in one of Archer Realty’s condo collapses.
Our resident journalist. Lover of mom jeans and baby pink.
She continues with her rant; KMZI specializes in unhinged ranting from its hosts. It’s tradition.
“I’d like to read you all an article by Anonymous that was released early this morning.
It’s titled: ‘Did the mayor kill his political opponent? And what does a teenager’s sudden wedding have to do with the corruption at city hall?
’ The subtitle is as follows: ‘Scarlett M. Force, an exposé: let’s talk about this racer/poly girl with fangs’. ”
Hah. Haha. FUCK. Oh my God, Emma Jean.
We listen to the article—Emma doesn’t list the boys’ names, which I appreciate—and it’s so good. Vicious. Gossip-y. Spreads just like peanut butter. In about two seconds, the entire neighborhood will be buzzing.
I’m going to be so fucking famous after this.
Nisha turns the station down, leaving the seven of us in perfect silence for a moment.
“Are you cumming over there?” Basti asks, tapping his spoon on the edge of the mug Ash just handed him and trying to get my attention. “Because it looks like you’re cumming.”
“How would you know what Scarlett looks like when she’s cumming?” Bohnes is asking, a mild threat in his voice. Widow nods, like he approves of the implied threat. A tiny bit of jealousy is hot, so long as they both play it cool with my friends.
I snap my fingers, looking up.
“Jonas is going to try to use his own popularity against us. We have to break that. I was thinking about it in the shower this morning. Who better to do that than Miss Emma Jean? This is perfect. Let her talk shit. Let her spread rumours, true or false. The radio station is being demolished and the tower sold off anyway. What are the repercussions? Emma is dead if Chet stays alive. She understands that.” I feel suddenly pumped.
Hey, P-Trip, you’re nothing. I’m dreaming bigger. RIP. I’m going to win Stars and Stripes as a side project. Gold digging, complete. Win a gold cup, soon to be complete. I’m definitely grinning now.
Bohnes and I catch one another’s gazes, and I see him worshipping me with his eyes. He likes the way I plan and scheme, just like he does. We’re equally good strategists with completely different methods. It’s so hot. I want to fuck his brain (metaphorically).
“How long is this honeymoon phase going to last? Because it’s disgusting.” Nisha is shaking her head, sipping her coffee and frowning because it’s probably hot and sweet, but it’s definitely not cheap.
Sorry Lemon, but we’re here where you wanted to be. Rich. Connected. Powerful.
We’re living in a house that’s so big I haven’t seen most of the rooms yet. In the woods, with no neighbors. There are like twenty cars in the garage, including the Bugatti that Widow is planning to steal from me. The windows have metal shutters that close with the press of a single button.
She could’ve been here with us. Alexis, too. How hard is it to not stab someone in the back? Huh? HUH?
I turn away from the group for a moment, feeling the emotions hit me and then bounce off my new shields. I’ve gotten these four psycho men to commit themselves to me—permanently. They inked themselves in blood and ashes, tattooed rings on their fingers.
Mine. All mine. I have four men all to myself, men that know I’ll kill them if they try to leave me. I feel complete somehow, like this is the end goal I never knew I wanted. Maybe everything else is a side project if you have friends and lovers that matter, that you can trust. Family. My family.
I turn back around, completely and utterly calm. Clearheaded.
“The race will be fine,” I assure them all. “Nobody is going to sabotage me on the track today. It’s off the track that we need to be worried about, like the drive from here to there. If I were going after someone, that’s what I’d do: sabotage their route.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Widow responds coolly, collecting a sherpa denim jacket from one of the stools near the island.
It’s his jacket, the one I stole from him and that must’ve been in one of the suitcases that came from my house.
He’s stolen it back. This son of a bitch just can’t help himself.
“Muscle is important, right? I might not have contacts, but I’ll double the size of our crew.
For that, I do need to go back to the school, at least once or twice. ”
Ah. Prescott High. Yeah, I almost forgot all about it.
Plus, you know, my mom and aunt. I’ve got girls watching them, but I haven’t spoken to them since the fire.
Since…Alexis. My to-do list is ridiculously long.
All I can do is put survival at the top and try to check the others off in between near-death experiences.
“Sure. I have loose ends, and I hate loose ends.” Need to say goodbye to my librarian girlies, Agnes and Mildred.
Need to give Stacey Langford a tour of the school and explain where all the good hiding spots are.
Absolutely must threaten Principal Vaughn’s life for a high school diploma.
I just thought of that. Why go for a GED when I can just blackmail an administrator? “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Widow raises a brow at me, jacket still slung over his shoulder like he’s some sort of maverick. I hate to admit it, but goddamn if he isn’t one for real. So confidently arrogant, and he can actually pull it off because he’s got the balls, brains, and looks to back up his shit. I’m dead.
“I wasn’t asking you: I was telling you,” he replies easily, making me laugh.
“Oh, honey, that’s rich. Get in your little Bugatti and follow Daddy to the track.
” I dismiss him with a wave of my hand, refocusing on Nisha and Bastian.
“I feel like it’s safer if you guys don’t go.
I’m not a fan of you leaving the property at all, but…
you’re the only ones I trust to pick up Gram and Emma Jean. ”
“Yes, Queen,” they both reply, taking the order easily. I’ve got Basti’s family living in the guest house. Nisha’s mom, too. They know how important this is to me, and I trust them completely. We’re not just each other’s shields, but also one another’s swords.
I’ve spent years setting up this crew. Ruthlessly. Mercilessly. It’s time to really see what the Crimson Crew is made of. Hey, I might not have picked the name, but it stuck. This is my permanent middle finger to my least favorite color Red.
“Off we go.” I grab Widow’s jacket off his shoulder when he’s not paying attention. He whirls on me, watching me re-steal what’s rightfully mine. He slams a palm onto the wall beside my head, leaning in.
“Be careful today. I’m on Bohnes’ side. Just get famous after we kill the bad guys.
” Widow leans down, putting his forehead to mine, almost like he’s…
sweet. He yanks the jacket from my fingers and steps back.
I consider pulling a knife—we both know that I’m capable of killing him in a knife fight—but we’re running late.
Also, I do actually prefer him breathing.
“Your arguments are moot: the family would see our lack of attendance at the track as disrespectful. This is the only rational decision.” Alexei retrieves a fresh box of wet wipes from a cabinet and puts a heaping handful into the pocket of his suit jacket.
“Less time racing, more time killing. A murder a day keeps the mob away.” Bohnes shrugs as he flits out the door like a ghost, something barely tethered to this world.
“Out of my way, fuckhead,” I tell Widow snidely. He’s really eating this King shit up. I need to be careful with his growing ego. “You’re just the muscle, remember?”
I shove past Adrian and march out the front door, obsessing over the angry heat of his stare against my back.