Page 53 of Vile Bastards
Shit, shit, fuck. No. I can’t and won’t fall for a piece of shit Prescott boy.
I really, really shouldn’t.
I know that. I know better than that.
Yet, if I were to look in the mirror right now, would I see the same obsessive gleam in my eye that flickers so prominently in Ash’s? Because when I look at Bohnes, and I see him looking back at me, I feel it. And I wonder why I even need any other boys around …
“This is a strange ritual custom known as …” He looks up at me in dramatic fashion, hair swept back like a prince, eyes impossibly blue even in the shadows. “Romance.”
“You’re a cocky fuck, you know that?” I bite out, watching as he rises to his feet and lays the white cloth over the table.
“Scarlett, I’ve already bathed my dick in your virgin blood, rutted you into a filthy forest floor, and sucked your sweet cunt under a Halloween harvest moon. Naturally, romance would follow. You’re still afraid—which is reasonable and understandable—but we’ll get past that.”
“Uh-huh.” I pause at the sound of a car pulling up, its headlights sweeping the cemetery and limning all of the gravestones in bright, white light.
Bohnes doesn’t pay it any attention, using a lighter to set the wicks of over a dozen candles aflame.
“Did you guys order Grubhub?” the driver asks, and I give Bohnes a harsh look.
“This the Southside version of catering?” I ask dryly as Bohnes turns toward the guy making his way up the stone steps toward us.
“Getting the taco truck to deliver food on Cheap Taco Tuesday is the Southside version of catering. This is five-star concierge service.” Bohnes takes the bags of food and then freezes when the delivery driver dares glance over at me. “There are still empty plots in this cemetery.” This is said mildly, as if it’s anything but a threat.
Grubhub Dude leaves at a much speedier clip than he arrived.
“What are we eating?” I ask as Bohnes unpacks containers and stacks them on the table. “Denny’s? Applebee’s? IHOP? You know, all those klassy with a K restaurants over by the mall?”
“None of the above.” Bohnes flicks one of the boxes open and I spot a steak with some fancy sprig of herbs on the top. “Steak from that place in Thurston with its head up its own asshole.”
“Kelly’s.” I name the restaurant and sigh. It hadn’t occurred to me that, perhaps, Kelly’s Steakhouse was owned by Ash’s father, Jonas. But if Bohnes is ordering from there, and smirking the way he is, it occurs to me now. “Hilarious.”
We eat in relative silence, sharing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and smoking clove cigarettes. Once the food is gone, it opens up the space for further conversation.
“I don't really know you all that well—”
“Get to know me then. Just don’t rush it. We have years.” Bohnes slouches in his seat, holding the liquor bottle by the neck with one hand and the sleek ebon black cylinder of a cigarette with the other. Bohnes is still Bohnes, in or out of a suit. “Come with me.”
He sits up suddenly and then rises to his feet. By this point, the fire’s warmed me up enough, and I’ve kicked off my shoes. I don’t mind walking barefoot in the icy grass for a minute.
Bohnes takes me over to the front door of the mausoleum and then reaches into his pocket for a key. When he unlocks it and steps inside, I feel my heart start to pound.
Despite my better judgment, I follow him in and pause in the large, open space. There’s some sort of stone altar in the center—for a coffin, I guess?—and a trap door set into the stone floor that’s currently open to a steep set of stairs.
“Here.” Bohnes turns and offers up the key. “This is for you.”
“For me …?” I reach out to take it and Bohnes grabs me around the wrist with cold fingers, yanking me close. His breath is warm against my lips as he leans in.
“If you’re ever on the run from anyone or anything, you can come here. It’s a safe house, Scarlett.” He releases me and stands up straight, allowing his gaze to sweep the small room. Outside, I can hear the fire crackling. “If we’re separated, come here first and I’ll find you.”
“You’re that worried about this?” I ask, curling my fingers around the key and peering into the shadowy darkness that awaits at the bottom of the steps. I shiver and Bohnes kicks the door closed. When it’s shut like that, it’s hard to see; the edges blend in with the rough stone floor.
“It never hurts to have backup plans, now does it?” His words are cocky, casual, careless. But that’s not the look in his eyes, a look that says he might have lost me, or I might have lost him, or, more importantly, we might’ve lost each other. “Also, this is our future tomb. We can be buried here together.”
