Page 165 of Vile Bastards
Looks like a fuckin’ jewelry box to me.
I might not have money, but I worked hard making that ugly ring in my welding class; I just hope Scarlett understands that everything I do—even my rank-ass bitch-fests—are out of love.
Because as stupid as it is, as horrid as I knew it would be, I’m in love with Scarlett Force.
I notice that she’s rubbing the ring I gave her, teasing it with her thumb as if her thoughts are going in the same direction as my own. Fuck, I hope so. I didn’t really expect her to agree to be my fiancée; it was a power play. But a good one, right? Seems to be working.
“How was this delivered?” Scarlett asks, and Alexis makes this god-awful huffing sound. It’s as if every single thing Scarlett does is a personal assault on her character. You know, if she had any character at all. How does this girl not know how lucky she is to have a sister like Scarlett?
Scarlett would die to save this annoying bitch; she’s an angel with black wings and devil horns.
“How should I know? It was sitting on the porch when I woke up this morning.” Alexis stomps into the kitchen and Scarlett grits her teeth.
“Fuck.” It’s all I can think to say. What else is there? I can’t insult her mentally ill sister inside her own home, now can I? Our relationship isn’t quite there yet. It’ll get there though. No doubt about that.
I’d bet my soul on Scarlett and I ending up together. Only exception is if one of us dies. At this point, I’m just praying Ash Kelly doesn’t get her killed before I can find a way to get rid of him.
Scarlett sets down the filleted peen, picks up the new box and cracks the lid, snapping it shut just as fast.
But not before I saw what was inside.
It’s a diamond.
It’s a diamond fucking ring.
And I know exactly who sent it.
My hands clench into fists, and my mind swirls with violent thoughts regarding Ash Kelly. Of all the guys that Scarlett is fucking, he’s the only one that makes me feel as crazy as I do right now.
Before I can address the shitty, fucked-up elephant in the room, Scarlett’s phone rings and she answers it without even glancing at the screen. There’s a pause there as she listen to whoever it is that’s on the other end of the line.
Meanwhile, there I am, romance-crazed and desperately trying to get a read on her facial expression.
“What do you want?” she demands, and I feel my temper rising in response to whoever it is that might be on the phone. I don’t like Scarlett’s tone. Suspicious, unsure, annoyed.
Then she hangs up.
I pace behind her, hands on my hips, frustrated but somehow managing to wrangle in a temper I’ve never been able to control before. Not being allowed to kill Bohnes or Ash has truly taught me patience in a way I’ve never known in my entire life.
The phone rings several more times, and I pause, offering Scar up a raised brow.
She waits until the fourth repeat call before answering it, throwing me a cocky smile and a pair of raised brows as she does. I think it’s just a weirdo, she mouths, but then she’s talking to whoever it is instead of me.
My jealousy flares unbidden.
“Talk quickly. My patience is waning …” As she says that, she takes the diamond ring out and tries it on. I won’t lie: it looks absolutely absurd when paired with the ring I gave her. Rich boy versus poor boy. In my opinion, there’s no contest.
But for Scarlett …?
“Um. What about it? You call just to offer up your condolences?” she asks, and I stop my pacing, facing the kitchen wall where I can hear Alexis banging pots and pans around in an almost comical cacophony. I turn back to look at Scarlett, only to find her back to me, the hand that’s holding the phone shaking slightly. “I’m racing next week? Dude, you’re creeping me the hell out. Who is this?”
Finally, she puts the goddamn thing on speaker, and I step closer to listen.
Like a plague, Alexis reappears in the kitchen doorway, sucking loudly on a juice box and forcing her sister to cover the phone’s mic briefly. See what I mean? Constant disrespect.
“Right, my name.” The guy on the phone chuckles like he thinks he’s God’s gift to women. “I’m Burt Cramer. I work for Tricked Out Talent.” Holy hell. Just the sound of his voice is pissing me all the way off. Whoever this man is, I don’t trust him for shit. “I like you, Scarlett Force. Even the name is gold. I’ll make sure to say hi on Friday in person. See you at the track.”
The guy hangs up on us as Scarlett gapes, I frown, and Alexis creeps forward like the little snot that she is. Racing next week? Where? At what track? The hell is going on?
