Epilogue O-Shimai
Scarlett
Sometime later…
“Love is about two people showing up and caring how the other feels. In our case, five people have to show up. Every. Fucking. Day. The odds of that happening feel astronomical and yet, I’m confident.
Because I know we can do this. We’ve proven that we can.
And it’s actions and not words that matter most. Still, I hope you hear mine, Miss Emma Jean. ”
I lean in toward my favorite journalist, the pair of us ensconced in the warm waters on my custom-built onsen.
After experiencing the wonders of having a personal bathhouse, I’ve made it a mission to never live anywhere without it.
When she doesn’t reply, too busy jotting things down in her waterproof notebook over there, I continue.
“We all have a ticket somewhere, someway. You just have to figure out what it is. For me, it’s three things.
” I lift a hand, planning to fold fingers down as I count.
This’ll mark the end of the interview and then I’ll never talk about some of these things again.
Emma has heard the whole story, as a friend, but she’s only allowed to publish some of it.
“Which are…?” she asks, getting impatient, yanking at the edges of her towel with flushed cheeks. Embarrassed.
“Listen, you ain’t got something I haven’t seen before. Relax, Miss Emma Jean. I was getting to that. My three things are adrenaline, violence, and romance. Loving one person sucks, but loving five is harder. I don’t do anything in half-measures, and I live by a good challenge.”
“How long do you realistically think your relationship with Adrian, Kellin, Alexei, and Ash will last?” Emma asks, with enough compassion in her words that I smile.
She’s not mocking me, just worried is all.
Because having four dangerous fuckboys under the same roof is never a wholly safe endeavor.
She can barely handle the one she’s got. Fuckin’ Wolfman.
“My initial instinct is until death do us part.” I reply, studying the nails on my right hand.
Treasure’s just finished and they look incredible.
White, with yellow lemons. Not my usual colors, but it’s New Year’s Eve, and I get mad nostalgic on holidays.
“We done now? I’d love to never speak of the past again. ”
“We’re done,” Emma replies, fidgeting with her towel again. Her nails look fab, but Suburbs isn’t down with the group nakedness stuff. “Thank you for answering all my questions…eventually. In the beginning, I had the sense that you were considering whether or not to kill me.”
I don’t respond to that statement. No need to.
“From now on, we only talk about my career, right?” I smile as I say that, and Emma nods fiercely, clutching her notebook and pencil, one in each fist. “Well, except for that one thing… I did agree to introduce you to the next Queen of Prescott High.”
“Is she here now?” Emma Jean asks, her journalist-eyes glittering with headlines and the promise of steaming hot goss.
I shrug a naked shoulder, scooping water into my cupped palm and pouring it over the ink on my opposite arm.
“If she ain’t, that’s her problem. She’s the one that came to me.
Nish, you wanna come with?” I stand up, naked and proud amongst my girls.
The boys are out front, prepared to meet up with Bernadette Blackbird, the Prescott girl who showed up at my door, testing that promise I made long ago in my heart.
If I can, and if she asks, and if it’s reasonable… I will always help a girl from Prescott. You see that, Lem? It’s Providence’s hand at work again.
“Of course, Queen,” Nisha grumbles, trying to act like she’s not thinking about Hype right now. I grin at her as Basti grabs a nearby bucket and douses my lieutenant with cold water. Nisha shrieks a melee of fucks and damns and shits and cunts, diving at him with a knife.
“Bitch, for real?” he shouts, scrambling out of the pool with that shit-eating grin on his face because he’s—as Ash would say—a bit of a shit.
All I do is laugh as he makes a run for it. Nisha lets him go, slumping back in the tub, nude. Shrouded in steam. She points at me with the knife, lifting a perfect brow.
“Back in the day, I asked you not to fuck me over for a fuckboy.” Nisha stabs the knife into the side of the tub and a few of the girls nearby jump and then giggle.
“Thank you for respecting me. For loving me, Scarlett. It’s your superpower.
I love you, too. And I can’t wait to see where we go from here. ”
My wild grin softens into a smile as Nisha and I both reach out with fists, bumping our knuckles together and exposing the red ink on our rib cages. Crimson Crew, what a stupid fucking name.
“Thank you for marrying Hype, so I’m not the only one out here living like a square.” We both laugh at that.
“Until death do us part,” Nisha repeats, and I nod.
“Until death do us part,” I agree, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.
Together, the pair of us make our way down the stone path, naked hot girls with hidden weapons on either side of us. They’re sunk into the pools with their tits out, a little tummy showing. Some are deeper, with only their eyes exposed, like angry ghosts.
Basti reappears, wrapping towels around both Nisha and myself, so that we can open the door to the yard without exposing ourselves to Bernadette’s entourage. She has her own horde of fuckboys, I hear. Five of ‘em. Christ, I hope they have smaller dicks than my boys or that girl ain’t walkin’ right.
Jennifer Atwell appears at my side, cupping her hand around my ear so she can lean in and whisper her always invaluable gossip.
“From what I hear, Bernadette and her gang, Havoc, they want a mob connection out of us.”
I’m already laughing when Bastian slides the koshi-do (a wooden lattice door) open with a dramatic bow.
Posed directly in front of my door, there she is, a woman with blond hair, tipped red at the ends like it was dipped in blood. Another pissy girl ghost, eh? I grin as I drop my chin, winking at her in such a way that the five hulking Prescott dudes behind her shift in discomfort and irritation.
I can give any girl a bi-awakening, even this one. It’s my other-other superpower, right?
The men are all very obviously Prescott-bred. It’s not just the overall impressive size of the men—sure, they’re muscled and tatted and handsome and lurking, all that good shit—but it’s the hardness in their eyes that says they’ve seen shit and walked through fire.
Bernadette lifts her chin, dark eyes sparking and cheeks slightly pink.
She’s cool as fuck, but if she wants to mess around with the family, eh.
Best I can do is invite her to my wedding anniversary next week.
Uncle Burt throws us a big ol’ shindig every year.
He’s actually not a bad guy, once you look past the whole forced-blow-job-on-camera thing.
My gaze shifts first to one side where Bohnes is leaned up against the side of the building with his massive arms crossed over his chest, dressed in a sleeveless hoodie to show off all that rock-hard muscle. He winks at me, flicking his tongue against the edge of his mouth.
On the other side of the open door, Widow and Alexei exchange a look, displeased by the idea of letting five dangerous men we don’t know onto our property.
Adrian is decked out in all-black, like he took today’s meeting real serious and wanted to dress like the boss of a very high-brow security team (which he pretty much is, with the Princes of Prescott at his disposal).
Alexei is outfitted in a navy suit that’s so sharp it cuts the eyes.
Red silk tie. Black latex gloves on his elegant, long-fingered hands.
Cheap plastic with expensive, tailored wool.
Ugh, my favorite. His green eyes sparkle as he focuses on me instead of these strangers at our doorstep. They mean nothing to him.
Ash…well, I’m not exactly sure where he is, but that’s the whole point.
Livin’ like he’s dead as my elite bodyguard.
Sometimes, he’s in the ceiling, slithering the way Bohnes taught him.
Sometimes, he’s standing right behind me with the other boys, dressed in all black with a mask over his face and a ball cap on his head. Wherever he is, he’s not far.
We don’t do distance or personal space in this family.
“Alright, Bernie—can I call ya Bernie?—come on in. First thing’s first though.
” I lift up a finger with a perfectly manicured nail at the end of it.
“To enter the bathhouse, you gotta get naked. Second thing, you gotta squat and cough. You know Prescott bitches, hiding weapons up their puss and all that.” I shrug.
“And third, no men (except Basti) allowed in the bathhouse.”
“No way in fuck—” one of the monster men says. Not sure what his name is. Don’t care. Bernadette bagged herself five handsome Prescott beef sticks, but that’s really not my problem.
Bernadette steps inside the bathhouse and Bastian slides the koshi-do closed behind her. I’m not worried about her men. I might have one less, but Bernie’s bros are no match for my fuckboy psychos.
“Scarlett Force,” Bernadette says, almost like she’s offering supplication to a goddess. Ego, officially stroked. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to meet you.”
Her voice is husky and sexy in a way I’m sure has inspired a few bi-awakenings of her own. We stare at each other, a pair of scrappy queens, both of us bathed in blood and mystery. Two hot girls who clawed their way out of the ashes of hell.
“You smoke?” I ask, holding out a hand and receiving a metal case filled with cigars from Shirley.
Another gift from Uncle Burt. With a flick of my wrist, I open the lid and offer one out to Bernadette.
She doesn’t even hesitate, just takes one like it’s her due.
“Ah-ha. Not worried about lung cancer then, are ya?”
Bernie frowns, thinks. “Not when I was younger, no. I wanted it to kill me. Prayed for it.” A soft laugh. “Now, yeah. I’m not as interested in dying now.”
“And yet you came to find me?” I laugh, slipping another cigar from the case for myself before passing it back to Shirley. “It’s not that I mind entertaining the reigning Prescott queen.” My eyes sparkle. A smile lifts the corner of Bernie’s mouth. “But meeting me is like dying.”
“You know, there’s only the whispered rumour of who you really are in Prescott. People don’t remember correctly. Having seen you in person, I can tell. There’s a Legend here. What did we miss? What did you do to Prescott?”
I chuckle and shake my head.
“Hey, Blackbird, I’d tell ya but then I’d have to kill ya.
” My girl, Tuesday, appears to light the cigar for me, and I take a drag.
“Get naked,” I tell Bernie, reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze and letting my towel fall to the floor around my feet.
“Then join me in the bath and we’ll talk.
You caught me on a good day, kid. I’m in the mood to make miracles happen. ”
Without waiting for a response, I turn and leave Bernadette’s frisking to my girls.
Since it’s hot in there, and I’m all wet (from the bath and not my boys, I swear), nobody notices when I reach up to wipe a single tear away from the corner of my eye with a lemon-decorated nail.
Happy New Year, Lucy, I think to myself, missing her with my entire heart.
As Wolfman might say at the end of a KMZI 66.6 broadcast, “and that’s all, Prescott fans.”