Chapter 3
Scarlett
I stop at a store on the way home and snag a new phone with some money that Bohnes gives me, setting it up with my same phone number while we’re idling in the parking lot. First thing I do is call Nisha and Basti.
Clang, clang, clang. My chest hurts at the betrayal.
I release a long, weary exhale, exacerbating the already foggy windshield of the Chevelle.
Bohnes reaches out to turn the defroster on, studying me with manic blue eyes.
Letting me drive his car while he rides bitch seat, that’s a big deal in Prescott. It’s like marriage. Like soulmates.
The leather bench seat is long, but Bohnes’ heavy thigh is pressed firm and hot against mine. No space between us. Crowded together. A pair of crazies.
“We’re gonna make a pinata outta that Kelly boy and cut his dick off, so we’re ready for the real thing later,” Nisha says, her voice colored with righteous anger.
Reminds me of the way she’d talk to Lem after a bad breakup.
I have to bite back a scream. She isn’t wrong.
Her concern makes sense. If I were her—or Bohnes, Widow, or Alexei—I’d think the exact same thing.
Ash looks really bad. He looks like a bad guy.
He looks like a liability and a pain in the ass.
“Should we tell her that I’m already well-versed in cock amputation?” Bohnes whispers, breath scalding against my ear. Oops. Did I leave the peen in Widow’s glove box? “No practice necessary.”
“Funny,” I reply to both Bohnes and Nisha, my voice stripped of its usual piss and vinegar.
“You need us to bring anything, honey?” Bastian is soft toward me today.
I thought he was still mad at me over Lemon, that he’d never forgive me.
But maybe he was just mad at the situation, and there’s nothing to forgive.
His respect—Nisha’s respect—it means the world to me. I’ll explain it all to them properly.
“Bring Wesley’s.” I sniffle a little, raw in front of my friends in a way that’s harder in front of my fuckboys. “I need a pie shake.”
I hang up before they can say anything else.
I reach for the radio. My hand trembles as I turn it on, thinking about Alexis.
Betrayal is so painful. It’s the worst feeling, especially when it comes from someone you’re trying to protect.
All I ever wanted for Alexis was to get her out of this hellscape.
“Your tears make me both homicidal and grotesquely empathetic.” Bohnes puts his hand on the top of my head, warm and solid. He peers closely at me, face only inches from my own. “If you want to cry, please cry with me.”
My hands are locked onto the steering wheel as I stare out at the busy parking lot.
“I’ve cried in front of you before.” I turn to look at him and we’re so close, we may as well be kissing.
His breath hisses past his clenched teeth and he leans back, sliding an arm across the seat behind me.
“Today though? I don’t feel like crying.
Also, I’m too annoyed with the three of you to be vulnerable right now. You don’t trust me enough, Kellin.”
“Scarlett—” Bohnes stops himself, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. He does not finish his sentence.
I reverse the Chevelle out of the parking space as the song on the radio comes to an abrupt end.
“Sorry for the interruption folks. Nessie was supposed to host tonight, but she isn’t answering her phone.
Wolfman and I are worried, so hey, Nessie, if you’re out there and listening to this, can you give us a call?
” It’s Milicent Patrick, one of the legendary hosts of the station, named after the artist who designed the monster in Creature from the Black Lagoon.
“While we’re waiting to hear from her, I’d like to read a piece from our local paper.
” Wolfman clears his throat as my heart pounds in anticipation.
Thanks to Emma Jean, I have some idea of what’s coming.
“It was written by the talented Anonymous, famous purveyor of criticism against Mayor Kelly. Only, today’s subject is a bit less depressing than that.
If you haven’t seen the viral video yet, then here’s the title of the article.
” I tighten both hands on the wheel while Bohnes tilts his head to stare at me again.
“Local legend Scarlett Motherfucking Force Crushes Rich Boys—Literally.”
Wolfman proceeds to read an article about my race on Friday, something snappy and fresh and fun. Emma Jean really did me a favor with that one. I decide it’s a good idea that I promised her exclusive interviews. Don’t let me down, Ash. Don’t fuck me over on this one.
I’m trusting a dangerous fuckboy to take care of a girl that I consider one of my own.
This is rough territory.
“Thank you, Scarlett, for getting out there and representing Prescott,” Milicent continues in a rough, sexy purr.
“You’re proof that if us Prescott brats just buckle down, develop tunnel vision, and work hard, we can go places, too.
Keep going, girl. I saw you on the roster for next Friday’s race.
All I want to know is: how’d you swing that one?
Next up: ‘Revenge time’ by an artist known as Huh. ”
The music starts, but I’m only half-listening.
I’m watching my open road of escape narrow into a single dark tunnel.
I squeeze the wheel even harder, leading us on a circuitous journey around town. More to keep Bohnes’ safe house safe than to protect me. My enemies already know where I live.
“We’ll take shifts watching you,” Bohnes says, as much an admission to stalking as anything else. A comfort. Reassurance. “If you want time alone with your friends, I’ll wait outside on the roof.”
I snort.
“It’s way too cold outside. Just…come in.”
He and I, we look at each other. I know we’re having a couple fight about Ash, but it doesn’t matter because I trust him so thoroughly. Because I love him. Eyes back on the road because I’m going too fast.
Second thing I do with my new phone? I call Ash on speaker while rocketing the Chevelle down a narrow alley with three inches of clearance on either side. “The caller you have dialed is not available.” I use an app to change my number and, miraculously enough, Ash picks up right away.
“Moshi moshi?” he answers, his voice like a whisper and a hiss at the same time.
My heart rate spikes. Bohnes leans in toward the phone like he’s as perplexed as I am to have gotten a response.
“Listen here, you colossal idiot,” I breathe back at Ash, trying to keep a lid on my rage. Save it for later. Save it for later. Save it, save it, save it. “Come to the track on Saturday. Race me. Bohnes. Widow. Alexei. Winner gets to decide how we handle this mess.”
There’s another long silence, and then the line goes dead.
He hung up on me again.
“He’s a snake,” Bohnes repeats, and I shake my head.
“He answered the call in Japanese,” I say confidently, but Kellin isn’t convinced. Doesn’t matter. Ash will show up at the track. I know he will.
I pull us into the driveway and we climb out together, entering the living room through the front door.
I stop short, staring at the door that leads to the garage.
Thinking about the camera and the mic that were embedded in the townhouse’s shared wall.
About Alexis, asking our neighbor to help her track down Lemon.
Did this all start the night Ash stopped by with the box from Lem’s dumpster?
My mind drifts to that bit of Care Bears sleeping bag hidden in my room.
Alexis probably found it already. She might have some idea that I’m catching on.
Clutching the bug detector in a tight fist, I start in the living room and work my way through as much of the home as I can without entering my sister’s actual room. Bohnes creeps around behind me, disintegrating into shadows and reemerging like something from another world.
Alexis is home. I can hear her listening to the radio, to news about me on the radio.
No cameras. Not in my room. Not anywhere else.
She must’ve used good ol’ fashioned snooping. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I shove the device in my pocket just as the doorbell rings. I check the peephole and then step aside, gesturing for my friends to come in.
A quick glance over my shoulder shows me that Bohnes has disappeared again. He’s still in here somewhere, but I can’t say where exactly. Damn he’s good.
“We’re going back to P-Trip?” Basti chokes out, covering his mouth with both hands. “Nena, what the hell?”
Nisha is a bit more…practical. Bless her little black heart.
“Back to P-Trip after an illegal stunt? I don’t trust it.
” Nisha holds a drink carrier and a greasy Wesley’s bag, dressed in pajamas.
I never see her work a job in pajamas. She always takes the time to pull on clothes.
Was she fucking somebody when I texted out a call to arms?
Oh my God, the hacker girl! I bet that’s who it is. I know my friends too well.
Can’t bring it up here. Can’t bring anything up here that Alexis could overhear. I lean in to whisper to the pair of them.
“Alexis is spying on us. Keep conversation neutral, ‘kay?” I stand up straight, folding my own arms like everything is normal. Everything is fine. I am not a serial killer with four more deaths on my conscience. Well, I guess Bohnes shot one guy in the head, so I don’t have to take credit for that one.
“P-Trip. Again. But the Pantera is roughed-up.” I give Basti a pouty lip.
“I’m sorry, Basti. Will you forgive me and fix up the Devil, so I can whip some more rich boy ass on the track? ”
He sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbles, but he can’t hide the smirk on his lips. Basti knows that he’s the best damn mechanic to ever walk the halls of Prescott High. I’m the best driver. Nisha is our much-needed voice of reason.
There’s the sound of a door creaking open upstairs and then there’s Alexis, standing at the bottom of the steps and staring at us.