Page 123 of Vile Bastards
He’s as alone and sad as Widow.
“You wanna come? I’ll make sure nobody spits in the pumpkin pie.” I almost expect him to say no. I’m not even sure that he ate those strawberries that I gave him, but it’s worth a shot.
“Emma Jean invited me to eat dinner with her. Apparently, she also has no family.” Alexei pauses, and then gives a derisive curl of his lip. “I’d much rather risk whatever is happening at your family’s home than sit at a table with that woman. She pries and digs like she’s looking for fucking clams.”
That makes me snort, but also … I kinda feel bad for Emma Jean now, too.
Bohnes appears like the Nightmare that he is, separating from the shadows to crouch down on my right side. He knows me too fucking well.
“You are too nice,” he tells me, and I guess it’s true. I shouldn’t feel bad for Emma, and I shouldn’t feel sorry for all these stupid fuckboys, and I shouldn’t still be thinking about Lemon every two seconds. “Stop that.”
“Will you come?” I ask, and he smiles at me, white hair absorbing the strange silver light as it filters through the clouds. It’s as cold as a Yeti’s asshole today. “The thought of you sitting alone in your warehouse all day makes me pity you.”
Bohnes laughs at that, sitting back on his haunches.
“Oh, I’ll be there,” he assures me. “I was going to come whether you invited me or not, but at least the invitation makes it less awkward for you.”
I ignore him. My mind drifts to Ash.
Poor Ash.
I can only imagine what Thanksgiving will be like for him, trapped at some function with his father, stifled, choking, wearing his dead twin’s skin.
“No.” Bohnes grabs my wrist before I even realize what I was doing. That is, going for my phone so that I could text Ash. Not that he responds. He’s blocked me, apparently. “Not the Kelly boy.”
I turn and grab Bohnes’ phone from his pocket, but only because he lets me have it with a weary sigh.
“His name is listed under Idiot Fuckboy Two.” He points at Widow. “Idiot Fuckboy Three.” Points at Alexei. “Idiot Fuckboy Four.” They both ignore him, but Alexei bristles. Widow, apparently, is over Bohnes entirely, and has absolutely zero reaction but to keep lounging there looking like a sexy grunge king. His guitar is beside him, a romance novel next to that. It’s almost too much. He is almost too much.
I steal the number from Bohnes’ phone, adding it to my own. I label it: Stubborn Fuckwit. I offer Bohnes his phone back and then type out a text to Ash.
u fuckin ignore me again, doki-doki boy & i’ll kill ya
That’s what I send to him. It only takes a few seconds for Ash to respond.
what do u need from me, doki-doki girl?
This sly-ass motherfucker.
u have turkey day plans? if not, slap on a disguise & make haste. my gramma and i cook enuff food 4 the whole neighborhood
After I send that, I wait. And I wait. Irritation pricks behind my eyes, but I pretend that I’m still cool.
“Who’s got who on a leash?” Nisha asks, and I kick her. She tugs on one of her earrings and gives me a look. “What? You’re always talking about fuckboy leash this, fuckboy leash that. Just sayin’.”
“You were scopin’ out that girl at the diner, don’t lie to me, Nisha Webber.” We both know I’m talking about the hacker chick, the one who better be worth her weight in gold, or I swear to God, I will make her bleed. “The bitch shakes us down for a hundred grand and there you are, practically drooling over her.”
“Is she gay perchance?” Nisha asks, glancing over at Bohnes. “Bisexual, at least, although I can’t fuckin’ be bothered with bi girls most days. The second—and I mean the second—they realize I’m a lesbian, the performance starts. They have to prove how deliciously gay they really are but come on: they still like dick. Can’t trust ‘em.”
“Are you saying you can’t trust someone who likes dick?” I ask, and Basti and I exchange a knowing look. “Okay, fair point. Don’t trust either of us.”
“Not just you.” Nisha narrows her eyes on Bohnes. “All men love their dicks. Can’t trust them either. She gay or not?” He stares right back at her and smiles. It’s a terrifying expression.
“If I gave a flying fuck about her sexual orientation or anything else about her really, I’d ask,” Bohnes drawls, clearly bored. “She could be a giraffe wearing a tinfoil hat so long as she gets the job done.” He pauses and rises to his feet, eyes tracking Principal Vaughn as he walks past, pretending not to notice us.
It’s for his own good, to be honest. If I had more free time on my hands, I’d burn his house down. He’s a scumbag. In the end, he’ll get what’s comin’ to him, I’m sure of it. All he needs to do is cross the wrong Prescott bitch and it’s game over.
