Chapter 25 #2
I catch her gaze when it sweeps past, and I hold it.
I wait for Alexei to check the locker room with that bug detector thing.
I’d forgotten all about it. See what I mean?
Sharp. He’s sharp. Also likes anal. And being licked.
And putting his face to my dripping pussy.
Fuck. He surprised me a little last night, I won’t lie. What a freak.
“We’re waiting to see if Bohnes is right about most things,” says Bohnes about himself, climbing up on one of the locker banks and crawling down the length of it like he’s searching for something.
“He’s so creepy,” Basti murmurs, grabbing onto my shoulder, but I just fold my arms grimly.
“What is it, Bohnes?” I ask as Widow takes a seat beside me, putting one boot up on the bench.
Ash tugs his mask down and peers around the room.
There’s a lot of graffiti in here, but I keep it respectful.
I run the girls at this school on a tight ship.
No phone numbers on the wall. No names without my permission, not even guy names.
Mostly, there are song lyrics, poems, and venting rants etched into the floors, ceilings, walls and lockers.
A good amount of Sharpie art. Plenty of stickers. Penises galore.
The graffiti nearest me reads Prescott is the gateway to HELL, go Loggers!
I tug a Sharpie from the pocket of my pinstriped suspender pants.
Ash really did save my most valuable clothes.
Alexis thought she was packing a wardrobe for herself.
These clothes are the parts of me that my sister thought would give her the powers of a skinwalker.
No space for feelings today. Glibness is an underrated personality trait.
I change the word Loggers to FLoggers with a grin. Fuck this school. I realize with a start that I’ve more than outgrown this place. All done. Next.
I might drop out. Oh God. I cap the pen and tuck it away as Bohnes tugs a tape recorder off the top of the locker, peeling away duct tape. He turns it and reveals the old-school cassette inside. There’s nothing digital there for Alexei’s bug detector to find, but hot damn, that’s right.
“Oh yeah, sorry. That belongs to Jennifer. She listens to tapes of girls gossiping when they think nobody’s around.
Just in case there’s discord, you know what I mean?
She only shares what she learns from those tapes with me.
” I shrug as Bohnes tears the tape out, cracking it in half and then tossing it over the edge and perfectly into a trash can.
“Proceed,” he instructs as Alexei returns to us, tucking the detector in his pocket with a nod. Ash takes a seat on the bench beside Widow and Basti gasps, covering his mouth. He nudges me aggressively with his elbow.
“Whoa, I thought they were oil and water. What’s up with that?” he whispers, but I just lift my brows in his direction. That’s a story for later. I have…I have a lot of stories for later. Lem’s ashes are in the trunk of my car. Her bones, tucked inside the womb of the Devil.
“Don’t mistake tolerance for fondness.” Widow curls his lip like an animal. Ash smiles beatifically in response.
“How many dudes have we seen lurking around the school?” I ask, utilizing my own network this time.
Bohnes has better coverage around the city, but I’ve got a much tighter hold on Prescott High.
Also, you would not believe the things a man will confess to a pretty girl.
I’ve got plenty of information myself. “A half-dozen?”
“Half-dozen,” Nisha confirms, folding her arms over her cream-colored crop top. It has gold writing on the front that matches the jacket she’s wearing. “You think you’re safe in here? What’s to stop them from marching in and shooting you point-blank?”
“The mayor’s own policies.” I glance over at Ash and he lifts his head, like he’s still only partially anchored in this world. He blinks those dark eyes at me in surprise.
“No, he won’t walk in here and end it like that.
Now that your wedding invitations have gone out, that could be considered a direct attack on the mob.
He’s greedy, but he’s also like a cockroach.
He senses poison and knows how to scuttle away.
” Ash curls his hands around the edges of the bench as Widow watches him with shrewd interest.
“Isn’t this your dad you’re talking about?” Bastian asks, but Ash only shrugs.
“I was going to kill him with my own two hands, but Scarlett won’t let me.
She…loves me too much to risk me.” Ash puts a hand over his mouth and turns away, closing his eyes.
He mumbles something psychotic like she-loves-me-she-loves-me-not in rapid-fire demon speech, but that’s just part of his charm. Broken little weirdo.
Bohnes is still sitting on the bank of lockers, elbows on his knees, thoughtful frown on his face.
Widow lays back on the bench, his head near my hip, looking up with bright eyes.
“If I were going to hurt you, I’d come after me,” he says, reaching up to play with his hair, annoyed like he wants to cut it.
“Send the cops over here to talk to me. I haven’t been staying at the halfway house.
My parole officer might not take any more bribes from us if he gets orders from the mayor. ”
“Don’t worry about any of that,” Alexei declares, unzipping his hoodie and throwing off the hood like he can’t bear it a second longer than necessary.
His hair gleams under the fluorescent lights.
Steam settles on it, frosting the beautiful strands.
He uses a single gloved finger (his middle finger) to drop the mask from his mouth.
“Once I meet with the family, that’ll be a moot point.
” He yanks aggressively on the mask, like he’s trying to straighten the silk tie that he wishes he was wearing.
“You’re thinking, throw in with the mob and use them against the mayor?
” Nisha asks, her face stricken, cheeks hollowed.
“Queen, this is…we run a high school crew, baby girl.” She shakes her head and puts her fingers to her temples.
“But if anyone could pull this off, it’d be you.
Married. Fucking goddamn it. I told you these fuckboys were trouble. ”
I smirk, but we both know it’s not about the fuckboys: this is about opportunity and revenge.
Also, we might die.
I’m prepared.
I really am.
“Start spreading the word to the girls: if something happens to me, tell whoever asks whatever they want to know. Don’t fight it.
” I close my eyes on the sight of the locker room, desperately in need of a remodel but somehow charming in its desperation.
“Today, I’m going to ask our crew to choose.
Throw in with me for high-risk, high-rewards.
Or walk away.” I open my eyes back up. “Whoever stays will come to the track tonight for a special ceremony.”
“Is this blood-in, blood-out typa stuff?” Nisha clarifies, and I nod. She runs her half-dead manicure through her hair, short nails scraping across the buzzed brown.
“I always know when you’re dating someone you really like because you cut your nails short,” I blurt and Basti howls.
The boys don’t get it because, well, they’re dudes.
Nisha narrows her eyes on me and flips me off.
I’m laughing now, too, like we’re not in the middle of a life-or-death situation. “Is Hype a nice, tight little fuck?”
“Queen, I swear to Christ, do you not realize the gravity of the situation you’re in? Huh?” Nisha sits down beside me and shoulder-checks my impertinent ass. Doesn’t stop me from laughing. “Yeah, Hype is a nice, tight lil’ fuck. The hell does that have to do with asking our girls to make a choice?”
“You being in love, that’s important, Nish.” Basti shrugs, dressed in his best blue and black flannel shirt. Tight jeans. Brown boots. He has a literal wrench sticking out of one pocket. Sigh. You know what they say: once a mechanic, always a mechanic.
“Love? Did I say love?” Nisha sounds scandalized, flicking her eyes to me. “I’m not the hopeless romantic in the room, Scarlett. And I ain’t the one who got hitched today.”
I feel all four boys looking at me with varying expressions. Will not engage at the moment. Sorry, dudes.
“Crimson Crew or bust,” I say, steering the conversation back on course.
I’m nervous as hell, that’s the problem.
Not about my girls choosing whether they want to, like, pledge in for life, but about telling Nisha and Bastian that I have Lem’s body in the trunk.
“We all might, uh, end up dropping out of school. If they’re college-bound, beg ‘em to stay.”
The room grows silent.
“Dropping out, huh?” Basti asks, rubbing at the back of his neck. He grins sheepishly, letting his attention drift to Alexei’s stern, imperial countenance. “We got the funds to pay our crew for real now, don’t we? No more hold-ups or grand theft. All aboveboard and whatnot.”
“Aboveboard is a very questionable way of referring to the family,” Alexei says with a mild, uppish shrug of an elegant shoulder. “But yes. Scarlett will have access to the Borisov money once we get it back.”
“Hype can take care of that for a fee,” Bohnes explains, smirking when Nisha turns a sharp look on him. Neither of them is intimidated by the other. “Is it my fault you started banging my contact? She can do anything for the right price.”
“Let’s ask her to join our crew,” I tell Nisha, and her cheeks turn pink. Hah. See? This bitch. Trying to pretend it’s all about sex. What a liar. “It’s a good trade.”
“A risky one,” Nisha replies, and that’s true so I don’t argue. “Should I get Jennifer to organize the girls?”
I suck my lower lip under my teeth, trying to gather up the courage needed for this next bit.
“Please do. You, me, Basti…we go to Wesley’s first and talk shit out, okay?” I sound tentative and weird. I never sound tentative about anything. My friends are immediately on high alert.