Page 133 of Vile Bastards
“From Los Angeles.” I shove Ash in the back and he stumbles a step forward, throwing a poisonous look over at me. He never intended to come in. He came over to fuck me good, to prove himself. The idea is almost heart-warming. Or, it would be if I wasn’t so concerned that my heart of ice would melt in such an environment. “Have a seat.”
I don’t like sitting him so close to Trixie, just in case she ever saw or was acquainted with Aspen. It’d cause too much drama to seat him anywhere else, so I take the risk, fetching a metal folding chair from the garage and setting myself up at the corner next to Widow.
My grandmother is religious, so we go through a murmured prayer before people start filling their plates. I look over to see that Alexei is at least pretending that he’s going to eat.
“Is there a flu or something going around?” my mother asks, gesturing at her mouth as she looks at Ash. He pretends not to understand, filling his own plate. When he pulls the mask down to eat, he flips his hood up. Alexei does the same. I can see that it’s driving my grandma nuts, but she’s too polite to comment on it.
“Yep,” I respond in place of both boys, making my own plate.
My Uncle Bob is staring particularly hard at Bohnes. Somehow, he’s picked him out of all the men present as the most dangerous. I mean, he’s right on that one. Good instincts there, Bob.
“Where’s Lemon?” my uncle asks after a moment, and my icy heart cracks right down the middle.
Trixie stops eating to look over at me, as if she thinks I might have a better idea of where her niece is than I do. I mean, she’d be right about that, but I can’t let on that I know a damn thing.
“She’s … missing.” My fork is absurdly loud against my plate as my heart races out of control and Widow reaches down, putting his hand on my knee. Even though I’m not particularly prone to sentimentality, it calms me down a little. But just a little. I’m still struggling to breathe, like I’m in a Lamaze class or something.
“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Uncle Bob says, his voice dropping. He knows as well as I do what that means around here. Missing Prescott teens don’t elicit much social media or police attention. “I’m sorry to hear that, Trixie.”
“We all know that she’s dead, not missing.” Trixie stabs at a piece of turkey on her plate, her liner-ringed eyes filling with tears. Widow goes completely stiff; Ash pauses with his fork halfway to his lips; Alexei turns to look at Trixie with his mask pulled back into place. Bohnes, on the other hand, is the only one that goes about eating normally.
It’s as if his forced casual behavior is a warning to me to keep my calm.
I set my fork down with a shaking hand; I refuse to have a breakdown in front of all these people.
“I can’t even have a funeral …” Trixie starts and then stops, putting her own fork down. “Can I wrap a plate to go?” she asks abruptly, and then my aunt is scrambling to do just that. Trixie rubs at her inner arms, marked with scars from frequent drug use. She lifts her eyes to mine, and I meet them.
Somehow, it feels like she knows more than she should. That, or I’m just neck-deep in paranoia here.
Trixie sniffs and turns away, accepting the plastic wrap in my aunt’s hands.
We all sit in relative silence as Trixie slaps food onto a paper plate, covers it, and then stands up to go. I show her out, stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind me.
“No news yet?” I whisper, but Trixie just shakes her head, clutching the plate close to her stomach.
“I keep getting called in to ID Jane Does.” Trixie lets out a barking laugh, tinged with madness. She might have her issues, but I think she’s truly upset about her missing niece. “Nothin’ yet, but they found another one yesterday. I’m heading in to look tomorrow. Thanks for the invite.”
Trixie takes off before I can think of something appropriate to say.
I put my back to the door and close my eyes.
I just remembered why I got myself involved in all of this in the first place.
Nobody in this world is going to give justice to Lemon—except for me.
And I’m going to show everyone what happens when you cross Scarlett Motherfucking Force.
Scarlett
“Just for showing your face here?” Widow lets out a rough laugh, smoking a cigarette in the backyard. “I should kill you before you bring even more trouble into Scarlett’s life. Having her die in the river wasn’t enough for you, Kelly?”
“I didn’t plan to stay and eat,” Ash responds calmly, wearing his mask like a chin diaper. His mouth is far too pretty when he frowns. Life clearly isn’t fair—as if I didn’t already know that—but his mouth alone is proof of that. It’s the same mouth—lush and ripe and full—that Aspen had. And Aspen was filth, pure and simple.
