Page 116 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
She isn’t afraid of Bohnes. In a fight, I think Bohnes would win, but only by a little.
“Ten thousand in cash tonight if I win,” Alexei repeats, and I can see by the way he stares down at his steering wheel that he really needs that money. Weird. He’s driving a car worth millions. He’s rich as fuck. Why would he care about a measly ten grand? Hmm. I smell a story here. “I will take you to the party and provide you with a proper dress and shoes.” Alexei looks down to where my heels are sunk about a half-inch into the mud, and I grin at him.
“Deal.” I grab the clipboard from the grand marshal’s hands—it’s my girl, Tuesday, on duty tonight—and scribble down our conditions, adding my signature with a special flourish before I hand it out to Alexei.
He stares at it with gritted teeth, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“You can’t possibly expect me to touch that filthy thing.”
I look down at the clipboard in my hand. Not once in my time at this track have I ever had a person refuse to touch and sign the clipboard. Not even the Oak Valley snots refuse. Some of them whine or complain or make disparaging comments (that quickly go silent with a well-placed slap, throat punch, or handful of mud to the face). But outright refusal?
“I’ll hold it. You have a pen of your own you could use?” I ask, and Alexei grimaces, shivering all over. I’m afraid for a second there that I’m going to lose him, but he must really need that money back—maybe his parents weren’t so happy with their spoiled brat losing his allowance—because he slips off the thimble, snags a pen from his dash, and reaches out the window.
His hand is trembling as he scrawls his name and then chucks the pen at me. I happen to catch it, examining the sleek shiny instrument and figuring it’s probably worth some good money. Fun fact about rich people: they love wasting money on extravagant pens that they barely use. This could be worth hundreds or even thousands.
I pass it over to Nisha.
“Get this appraised and if it’s worth anything, sell it,” I murmur as Alexei strips off his gloves and tosses those out the window next. He very quickly wrestles a new pair out of a bag on the passenger side floor mat and yanks them on. Without my even having to ask, Nisha also collects the gloves. They appear to be suede and probably worth some coin, too. “Alright, let’s get this shit going. Nisha, can you give him a quick rundown of the rules?”
“Sure thing, Queen,” she says as I take off, tossing the clipboard back at Tuesday while Bohnes trails along after me.
I don’t turn to look at him, pausing beside my car as he places a palm on either side of me, balancing himself against the roof as he leans close and nips at my ear.
“You aren’t going to that party for the Kelly brothers, now are you?”
“I’m going to talk to Lemon and see if I can’t at least get a visual on Ash.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be there,” Bohnes muses, as if he could possibly know that. “I’m willing to work with you on that, you know? I told you I’d kill him for free. In the meantime, I’m trying to work out a solid plan for our date night.” He bites my ear again, and I shiver, bracing my own hand on the roof between both of his. “I was thinking I’ll use the money I just won to take you somewhere nice, someplace with white linens on the tables. Then, we’ll retire to a penthouse suite in some fancy Oak Park hotel, and I’ll fuck you nice and dirty on their expensive sheets. You can shred my back with your nails and make me bleed all over the luxe bedding.”
“You’re fucking weird, you know that?” I whisper, but it doesn’t sound half-bad. One of my favorite things in the world is traipsing around fancy places and making the people there uncomfortable because they feel like I shouldn’t be allowed in them. It’s hilarious.
“Make me proud. Don’t lose to some snooty-ass germaphobe who thinks he’s too good to touch our pens.” Bohnes slaps my ass, and I curl my lip at him as he retreats, leaving me alone beside the Pantera.
God, this relationship with him is going to drain me dry, ain’t it?
I hop into the Devil and turn up KMZI 66.6. The station’s newest host is purring through the speakers. She’s got this porn star voice that, despite my unfortunate degree of straightness, still almost manages to make me wet. Anyway, she goes by the alias Milicent Patrick, the name of the woman responsible for the monster magic in the original “Creature from the Black Lagoon” who was denied credit for decades. Apparently, her dickhead boss fired her to save face, so he wouldn’t have to admit that a woman did all the work.
