Chapter 5 #2
I call into the station and somebody answers, like they were expecting me. Maybe someone gave them my phone number, so they knew what to look out for? I bet they’re getting a fuck-load of angry calls right now. My girls are very loyal creatures.
“You’re on the air,” Wolfman says by way of hello. This is juicy Prescott gossip. The radio hosts can say it’s the wrong time and place all they want, but the fires of drama will be stoked.
I turn fully around, finding Widow waiting there with a deep seething look on his own face.
“Scarlett Force here,” I breathe, like I’m barely keeping it together. I force myself to calm down. It’s crucial to making Alexis look nuts. “My sister is going to hang up now. She’s going to text me and tell me where she is. It’s only fair that I get the righteous opportunity to beat her ass.”
I start walking the house with Widow’s help, trying to find Alexis. I’m going to swing first this time around.
“The one and only Scarlett,” Wolfman repeats, chuckling a little.
Widow bristles at the sound of my name on the host’s lips.
I don’t blame him: Wolfy sounds a little frisky.
My guess? He’s drooling over goss, not pussy.
“We’ve been scheming ways to get you on the show for a while. Suppose today is as good a day as any.”
“Hey Scar, what’s your response to your sister’s allegation?” Milicent asks cheekily, her voice crackling out of the living room radio as Widow and I make quick work of the duplex. If Alexis is at the house with us, she’s hiding better than I can seek. “Is it true?”
I stop walking.
“Allegation?” I ask, the phone still tucked against my ear. There’s a weird echo, like I’m a little devil with two voices. Good. That tracks. “What allegation? Some useless gossip from an attention-hungry Prescott bitch? Why don’t we talk about my second race at the P-Trip track tomorrow instead?”
“Why don’t you just answer the question?
” Alexis retorts as my brain conjures up new and interesting forms of torture for the future ass beating she’s about to get from me.
My breath stutters strangely as I remember Emma Jean’s words: your sister, she sold you to the mayor.
She told him that you’re the one hiding Alexei Grove.
Emma Jean, who I haven’t seen or heard from all week. Ash Kelly, who I haven’t seen or heard from all week.
I bite back my emotions.
“I have three fuckboys. Everybody in Prescott knows that. Salty because you can’t get laid, Lexi?
It isn’t my problem that you’re suffering from a shortage of quality cock.
Maybe it’s a you problem, babe.” I kick the wall as hard as I can the second she starts talking, just to see if I can hear the crash from her end.
Nothing. I just put a hole through the drywall for no reason. Gram is gonna be pissed. It was hard enough to explain the broken glass all over the driveway.
“Lemon is dead and you’re fucking her man!
” Alexis screams as I try to process all of the reasons she might be doing this.
In the span of a single conversation, she’s revealed Lem’s death.
She’s dragged my name through the mud. And she’s highlighted the relationship between me and Ash, making it that much harder for us to associate or be seen together.
The mayor—or someone in his camp—must be encouraging her.
Widow snags the phone from my hand when I’m not paying attention. I whirl on him, but he’s already backing up and putting it to his ear.
“I ain’t a fuckboy, I’m a king. And backstabbing my queen—your own sister—that was a huge mistake.” Widow hangs up as I narrow my eyes on him and the hosts scramble to recover the show from a sudden and very awkward silence.
“Who was that?” Milicent asks, and this time, I’m positive that she’s drooling over cock and not goss. Widow’s voice has that rough-and-tumble Prescott fuckboy growl that everyone loves so much around here. “Widow, maybe?”
“Widowmaker, more like,” Wolfy replies with a nervous laugh. I wonder if they muted Alexis themselves? She could be in the middle of a fit or something. “I wouldn’t want that guy coming after me in a dark alley.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t want Scarlett Force coming after me in a dark alley. Wow, three fuckboys? Big hitters, too. Kellin Bohnes is a legend.” Milicent quickly redirects the audience to the next poor sap waiting on the line for some romance advice.
I turn back around and spin the knob until the volume dies down to nothing. Can still hear it coming from my bedroom upstairs, but Christ.
“Fuck.” I bite my poor, wounded thumbnail again. Treasure is going to kill me when she sees the mess I’ve made of it.
My phone rings and I steal it back from Widow, glancing at the screen.
There’s a text from Bohnes that reads: three fuckboys? I’m your Nightmare, my feisty little honey bun.
It’s Nisha that’s calling though. I answer, ignoring Widow for the moment and heading up the stairs again.
I’m not mad at him for taking the phone.
Not a bad move considering the context of the conversation.
Everyone saw Aspen and Widow fighting at the track (saw Widow pissing on Aspen’s front seat).
They’ll find it hard to believe I’m fucking him if Widow’s standing up for me.
It’s not a lie though: I never slept with Aspen and I never would.
Ash is…not Aspen. Even if he’s ghosting me. Even if Emma Jean is missing.
“Girl, what the flying fuck?” Nisha grinds out.
“Yeah, I know. I know.” I stop in the hallway outside of Alexis’ bedroom and put my head in my hand briefly. “She’s out of control.” A strange laugh escapes me. It sounds hysterical. “It’s like Lemon all over again.”
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Nisha snaps at me, like she’s annoyed. “You can lead a bitch to common sense, but you can’t make her drink the water, you know?”
I smile. Nisha and I are crap at remembering how old sayings go.
Basti steals the phone, and I hear Nisha cursing him out in the background.
“Widow, man. He has a voice made for radio, but a face made for going viral. Oh, and a body for OnlyFans.” Basti clears his throat. “Sorry. Segue. What are you gonna do about Alexis?” Bastian demands, and I sigh.
What am I going to do? Alexis—just like Lemon—believes she’s found her way out of Prescott.
Not a hot fuck this time (though I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that she’d slept with sleazy ol’ Aspen, too), but betrayal.
A golden ticket. She’s going to use me like a ladder and stick her claws in my back as she climbs over the top of me.
“I don’t know yet. Let’s just handle P-Trip first, okay?
How’s the Devil lookin’?” I avoid the subject because I don’t like the inevitable route this conversation is going to take.
Might have to kidnap Alexis and keep her in Bohnes’ warehouse until this shit is over.
Literally lock her up as my own personal prisoner.
I should have kidnapped Lem and done the same.
That was the right thing to do.
“Scar, you have a bad habit of weaseling out of difficult conversations.” Bastian exhales and I can just imagine him pushing his sunglasses up and into his hair.
“But I’ll take the bait. You want to keep your car nice?
Stop crashing it.” Basti pauses, like he can sense my sentimental heart breaking.
I’m a sucker for my girls, he knows that.
“If you need us, kick Widow out or have him sleep under your bed or something. We’ll come over. ”
Widow steals the phone from me again, and I turn a feral seethe on him. This cocky motherfucker.
“I’m not a ghoul. I won’t sleep under the bed. But come over if you want.” Widow hangs up and then just stares at me as I raise an eyebrow at him.
I’ve got this Alexis shit on my plate. I’ve got the race tomorrow.
I’ve got the race against my boys on Saturday.
I have an MIA fuckboy and a missing suburban journalist. I deflect all of that by homing in on Adrian instead.
He’s staring at me in that strange way he started doing last weekend, when he kissed me by the lake.
“Come over if you want?” I ask dryly, wondering if my sister will have the ovaries to show up at the house today.
God help her if she does. I’d like nothing more than to go stay the night with Bohnes, but I can’t leave my family here alone after what happened last weekend.
“Last time we were alone here, we fucked and fucked and fucked.”
Widow presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, moving his amber eyes away from me and over to a family photo on the wall.
It’s the last one Alexis and I took with our brother, Michael.
What was my last picture with Lemon like?
It’s crazy that there was even a last picture at all, and I have no idea where and when we took it.
Life has story arcs, doesn’t it? I have a weird feeling that this one—that is, my time in Prescott—is coming to a rapid-fire end. One day, it’ll be my last visit to Wesley’s with Nisha and Basti. One day, I’ll have my final race on the old Prescott track. One day, I’ll have a last picture, too.
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” He gives me an odd look. “Sex? We’re at war, Scarlett.”
“War?” I repeat, scoffing as I kick my boots off.
I ignore him as I move into my bedroom and strip down, pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants in a utilitarian fashion.
No stripper rolls today. No flashing him my tits or my pussy.
“You think a stressful situation is an excuse for a fuckboy not to fuck?”
“Don’t do that, Scarlett. Don’t act like you’re not upset about your sister.
About Ash-pen.” Widow appears beside me with a deadly serious expression.
He puts his hands up on the walls on either side of me, penning me into the corner.
A cage of muscle and ink. I reach out and touch the design on his arm with a single finger and he shudders, closing his eyes and hanging his head.