Chapter 29 #3
“Don’t let Bohnes drive home. He needs a ride, too.” Widow waits for me to close the door and then eases out into the gyrating, swaying mass of students in their sequins and their heels, their ill-fitting suits and their really nice haircuts.
“Widow doesn’t think you can drive home safely by yourself,” I tell Bohnes, studying his gaunt face inside his hoodie.
He’s even worse off than Ash, but unlike Ash, he’s not willing to show that weakness.
That’s why it was so frustrating at the church.
He could’ve been dead by the end of the ceremony, hiding his pain through sheer iron will.
“If you drive me home, I won’t complain.” Bohnes looks around and spots something with a back seat, gesturing at a murdered-out Bentley with a too-long hoodie sleeve that flops around. He’s pulled his arms most of the way in, huddling in the fabric. Yeah. He needs sleep for fucking sure.
“You had sex with me like a maniac, slithering in the ceiling and all that nonsense. I might’ve let you drive the killdozer, since you’re the one that built it, but obviously you’re not capable of restraining yourself.
” I open the back door to the Bentley, gesturing for him to climb in the back seat.
“For the next several days, you’re on bed rest.”
Bohnes crawls in and slumps horizontally across the seat without complaining. I decide to let him stay that way, even though he’s not wearing a seat belt. All I have to do is not-wreck, right? That’s a personal specialty of mine.
“Thank you, love,” he murmurs, like he’s already halfway asleep and then…in the middle of Prescott, surrounded by a crowd of revelers, Kellin falls asleep.
“This is his version of I trust you, isn’t it?” Alexei asks, and I shrug, unable to hold back my own smile.
“Letting us get legally married is his version of that. This is more like…I love you.” I grin as I adjust Bohnes’ boots on the seat and then gently close the door so I don’t disturb him.
“You have a meeting with the Borisov board of directors next week, don’t you?
Think you can handle that when your diploma is from Prescott High? ”
I reach in my back pocket and pull out the roll of paper diplomas I snatched off Vaughn’s desk.
Alexei takes them, unfolding the roll and staring down at the cheaply printed pieces of paper, crooked and faded from low ink in a crappy printer.
There’s a tacky gold sticker on each one that reads Good Job!
instead of a proper seal. Sometimes, there’s a proper graduation ceremony at Prescott High.
Sometimes, there’s not. Depends on the graduating class and their determination.
There probably won’t be one this year, since nobody will be around to organize it.
By rescuing my crew from Prescott, I’ve also deprived the neighborhood of its best, most capable people.
If I said I felt guilty or bad about that, I’d be lying.
“I could do it alone,” Alexei begins, letting the diplomas roll back up into their preferred paper tube shape. He slaps the roll against his gloved palm. “But with Kellin? We’ll exceed Papa’s profits.”
“We need to earn enough money that they feel amiable toward us, but not so much that they won’t let us go someday.
” I look up at the sky, unable to see any stars because of all the light pollution.
It’s like they’re a secret, those stars.
If you didn’t know they were there, you’d never suspect.
But if you’re in the know, it’s so obvious. Of course there are stars up there.
I turn fully to face Alexei, his expression openly tender as it rests on me.
He really does not give any fucks as to who might see him in absolute romantic ecstasy.
I actually blush, which pisses me off.
“Is it possible Pavel was killed because risking the family’s wrath was less bad than risking somebody else’s?
” I wonder, unconcerned that anyone might overhear.
If they do, so what? Film it. Post it. I’m not suicidal.
Remind the world that we’re alive and we want to stay that way, and that if we disappear… somebody took us.
“You’re thinking of that secondary income source?” Alexei asks, putting the thoughts together without any issue whatsoever. It’s so refreshing to talk things out with somebody who really gets it. “And maybe the politics side of things? Both Chet and Jonas have lofty ideas for their future careers.”
“If they’re friendly with politicians…” I force my mind to keep searching. There are stars above the smog, if only you knew to look. “God, I have no idea. The lumber land stuff and the urban growth boundary and Lemon… Was there a reason it just had to be Lemon?”
There’s an idea floating out of reach, stars and smogs.
“We should rest over the next few days, but who says we can’t consult with Trish?” Alexei opens the driver’s side door for me like the gentleman he is, the very sort who puts his suit jacket down so you can enjoy a filthy glory hole together.
“Thank you, sir.” I accept his gallant hand as I step in, revving up the all-black beauty with my high heel. Alexei slips into the passenger side and off we go.
Happy Snow Day everybody.