Page 119 of Vile Bastards
“I forgot to give them to you this morning, but they’re still good. I popped ‘em into the home ec fridge and flirted with all the girls. Look at this.” She opens her bag even wider, and I see that it’s stuffed to the brim with plastic wrapped cookies, brownies, a slice of cake in a plastic container. “They gave me treats.”
“Stop it,” Widow grinds out as I cautiously study the box in my hands. “I don’t care if you are straight, flirting with other people is off-fucking-limits. You have enough lovers as it is.”
“How do I know if I’m straight if I don’t at least taste some pussy?” she teases, and I feel a sweep of hot anger trickle over my skin. I recognize in a distant sort of way that I’m jealous, pausing as Bohnes sweeps up to us like some sort of strange undead creature in a crop top sweater. It shows off his pale abs and low-slung leather pants.
“I don’t agree with Widow on a lot of things,” Bohnes begins, and Widow huffs out an annoyed breath. “Most especially on him being alive, but on this, I’m in full support. No pussy for you, sweet Scarlett.”
“You’re the straightest bitch I’ve ever met,” Nisha says, studying the ambulance as it takes off and Waylon Tucker’s friends amble about a bit absently, casting wary glances our way. Maybe they’ll think twice about picking on the weirdo in the hoodie next time around? “You’d put a ruler to shame. The horizon ain’t got nothin’ on you. It’s crooked by comparison. You worship at the altar of dick, and you know it.”
“Not trying to play devil’s advocate here, Scar, but you know that she’s right.” Scarlett kicks Bastian in the shin, and he bats at her playfully. I do my best to ignore their strange, childish banter, lifting the lid off the box.
Inside, there are four large chocolate-covered strawberries. They glisten in the mid-afternoon light, each one drizzled with a different color. Pink, white, dark brown, caramel.
“The icing bits are flavored. Obviously, strawberry, white chocolate, extra dark, and that one’s peanut butter.” Scarlett stands on her tiptoes and peers into the box, pointing them out. She’s likely breathing on the food, too, but I can’t even seem to find it in me to be bothered by that.
After all, I left her dirty underwear on my tabletop for hours, then I fucked myself with them and stored them in my pocket. In fact, they’re there even now (freshly laundered, of course). I’m starting to wonder if my revulsion of the world is really a reflection of my own inner sickness, as if perhaps I’m running from the man I realize is hiding on the inside.
I slip the lid back on the box as Scarlett smiles up at me.
She truly is gorgeous, her long dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her skin a light bronze in the cool sunshine. The grass is tipped with frost, but still, it’s sunny out. Each day that passes, it seems to grow colder. I’m not sure how long I would’ve been able to stay in the safe house anyway. I wonder how Bohnes stands it or if perhaps, he truly is undead, and the cool temperatures keep him from rotting.
“I’m jealous,” Bohnes offers up, eying my strawberries. “Where are my homemade Scarlett Force snacks?” He reaches into her bag, pulling out a brownie and unwrapping it. “Please tell me this is a special brownie?”
“Knowing my girls, it probably is,” she says with a pleased laugh. Widow says nothing, but his eyes keep falling to the metal ring on her finger, the one she has yet to take off. Is this her method of agreeing with him? Does she truly consider the pair of them engaged? If so, I need to speed up my timeline. She looks back at me, and even with the sunglasses on, I can see that she’s as drawn to me as I am to her. It’s there, in the way she angles her shoulders to me, the way she leans in. “I noticed you looking at the chocolate-covered strawberries at the art gallery. That, or you were just studying my mouth.”
“I was imagining what my cock would look like shoved into it.”
The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them and Bastian howls while Nisha cringes, Widow curls his lip, and Bohnes chuckles.
“Fucking rich boys,” he mutters yet again.
“Well, we could experiment with that and see in real time?” Scarlett offers up, dropping her shades down her nose to peer at me over the top of them. I want so badly to accept her offer, but not until I’ve showered a dozen times over with scalding water. My dick begs to disagree, demanding that I snatch her arm and drag her back to the Barracuda now. “But if you don’t want the strawberries—” She reaches out for them, but I pull the box back.
