“I know,” I say, because the implication was always there. If I want to stay at Aaron's house with Heather, I can. Knowing I have a safe space to retreat to makes the stress-filled nights at home much more bearable. “But at least for now, Pamela still owns my ass. Heather's, too. I can't poke the bear until I'm ready to weather the bite.”
Aaron doesn't say anything, keeping his green-gold gaze focused out the front window.
I shift in my seat, fully aware that we've got a ton of unspoken bullshit brewing between us.
“About the other day,” I start, but he just shakes his head.
“We don't have to talk about that,” he says, but how can we not? How can we keep going if he's going to play hot and cold faucet on me? Sometimes scalding, sometimes freezing. I can't deal with that crap.
“Yes, we fucking do,” I snap, leaning back and putting my boot up on the dash. I don't look at Aaron, focusing instead on the white and black stripes of my shoelaces. “You told me you hadn't had a girl since me.”
He clenches his teeth, like this is a sore subject for him. Can't say I blame him. It makes him sound … vulnerable. Desperate, even. Half of me is a little freaked out that he's managed to abstain from sex for so long while the rest of me is terrifyingly excited. Aaron is still mine. He's always been mine. If I wanted him, I could have him, couldn't I?
“I slept with two guys between you and Vic,” I tell him, thinking about those one-night encounters. They were fine, adequate. I mean, I managed to get myself off, but I wouldn't write home about them. “One guy was a Fuller High basketball player. The other was an Oak Valley Prep student—not Donald though.”
Aaron raises a brow at me, turning slightly to give me a questioning look.
“Really?” he asks, like he's having a hard time imagining it. I shrug my shoulders.
“The first guy's name … I can't remember to be honest with you. The second one, pretty sure his name was David, but I could be wrong.” I muse over that for a moment, trying to get back into the headspace I was in when I slept with two strangers. Life has given me plenty of reasons to self-medicate, to turn to drugs, or alcohol, or even sex to numb the pain, but that's never been my forte. I don't internalize my pain, not anymore. No, the reason I hired Havoc was to externalize it. I don't want to punish myself over the bad things that've happened in my life. Instead, I want to punish the world.
“Why them?” he asks, and I just shrug, my leather jacket creaking. It's pink and cracked in places, but it's been through a lot, seen so much, and yet it still shines. I look fucking fly in it, I won't lie. Besides, it reminds me of Penelope.
“Because they were hot and available,” I respond honestly. “I didn't sleep with them to forget you or anything else honestly. I'm a woman with needs, and that's it.” I pause, thinking about it for a minute. “But they only satisfied me physically, that's it.”
“You mean, not emotionally like Vic or Hael?” Aaron asks, his voice acidic. I chuckle, but I still won't look at him. Trapped in this car with Aaron, with all our baggage spilled around us in a gigantic mess, I feel like that girl who shook as she stripped her clothes off for the first time, who was afraid to take the plunge into sex, but who did it anyway because she was so in love. Aaron never pushed me, but I wanted to be as close to him as I possibly could. I got there, and then I was punished for it. When he pushed me aside, it hurt twice as bad as it could've if we'd never slept together.
“I wouldn't call Hael an emotional outlet,” I say with a smile. Then again, knowing he's out with Brittany right now fills me with an impossible fury. But I've got enough going on that I don't need to dig into that. “Vic …” What the hell do I say about Vic? Even I don't fully understand what he means to me, what he does to me. “Dude, you need to tell me what the hell is going on between you and Vic. I can taste your loathing like ash on my tongue.” I make a clicking noise and a dramatic exploding gesture with my fingers.
“It's complicated,” Aaron says, getting in line with all the soccer moms and stay-at-home dads to pick up his sisters. He even does it the right way while several parents struggle with the parking arrangement and end up driving the wrong way around the traffic circle, fucking up the flow of parent pickup time. Aaron kills the engine and sits back to wait for his sister and cousin. “I owe Victor everything, but at the same time, he took everything I had. So, I guess we're just even and floating in limbo.”
“By take everything …” I start as Aaron turns away, staring out the window at passing traffic. It gets crazy over here at this time of day. By evening, it's one of the quietest, most pleasant streets in town. If I had the choice, I would send Heather to this school, instead of the one on the opposite end of town.
“I mean you,” Aaron says, turning back to me with a deep frown etched onto his face. “He took you from me, in exchange for helping me with my sisters, that's what.” I just stare at Aaron, willing him to keep going, to shatter a mystery I've pondered over for years. “I called Havoc before there even was a Havoc,” he tells me, his tone acerbic and biting. “Part of my price for joining them was to give you up.”
“See, that's the part I don't understand,” I snap, sitting up, already shaking with the rush of emotion. I need to approach this conversation in a different way than I have before, because that's never gotten me anywhere. But I need to understand this. If I don't, I'm afraid I'll always be stuck in this rut, running over the same problems again and again. To truly and utterly become a part of Havoc, I need Aaron to be honest with me. “Why would they care if you were dating me or not?”
Aaron turns to look at me, narrowing his eyes like he thinks I'm playing dumb here or something.
“Are you kidding me?” he asks, his voice dry and bitter. “Vic is goddamn obsessed with you.” I shiver and lick my lips, but I don't say anything. I can't let Aaron know that I like hearing that, that I want Victor Channing to be as obsessed with me as I am with him. “He's been obsessed with you for years. Even in elementary school …” Aaron starts, trailing off.
“Even in elementary school, what?” I ask, but then Kara's tearing the back door open and scrambling into the van.
“Bernadette!” she says, reaching around the seat to hug me. I grin as I turn around, and she settles into her own seat, reaching out to take Ashley's backpack so her cousin can get in, too. “Are we going shopping for makeup? You said we could get makeup.”
“I don't see why not?” I start, looking back at Aaron. He smiles at me, as if he didn't almost just admit something happened in elementary school, of all places. “Let's grab Heather, and we can go to the drugstore or something.”
“Your wish is my command,” Aaron says, but with a surprising lack of sarcasm. He starts the van and we head over to grab Heather. I feel like a shitty sister-mom, pulling her out of the afterschool program so often, but it's whatever works, right? Whatever it takes to keep her happy and away from her father's idle hands.
We go to the same drugstore where Hael and I got the morning-after pill, and I help the girls choose their makeup carefully. Aaron stands back at first, but Kara and Ashley are far more skilled at engaging him than I am.
He ends up posing with his hands out so they can use the tester makeup on his skin, deciding what they think will look best on their own eyelids. Aaron’s gaze lifts up to find mine, and we both smile. It’s a surreal moment, like something out of a fairy-tale that can never last. If Aaron hadn’t joined Havoc, if we lived in a different world …
“This one,” Kara declares, the last one to make her selection. She’s picked out a sparkly pink shadow that I know Penelope would’ve loved. My own sister can’t abide by pink in any way, shape, or form, and has chosen a neon green that makes my teeth hurt. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out a way to blend it, so it doesn’t look garish.
“What happened to your face again?” Heather asks as I grab some concealer and foundation for the angry pink gash on my cheek. I glance down at her and then lift my eyes up to find Aaron’s. He’s
pursing his lips, a fire burning in his gaze that makes me awfully glad that I’m not Billie Charter.
“I got hurt at the Halloween party, I told you that,” I say, refusing to lie, but unable to tell my little sister the truth. She narrows her eyes on me, and we both know she’s smart enough to figure out that I’m not telling her the most important part of the story. I’ve been beyond careful to keep the stab wound on my arm hidden from her, too, but I know she doesn’t miss the bloodstained bandages in the trash can in our bathroom. “Why don’t you each pick out a piece of candy, too?” I suggest mildly, and it only takes the three girls a split-second to race toward the front counter together.
“Candy, huh?” Aaron asks, following me as I switch aisles and pause in front of the pregnancy tests. I don’t even care that he’s watching as I grab a few boxes. “Shit, Bern,” he murmurs as I tuck them under my arm, grabbing some tampons and a box of disposal menstrual cups in case I get my period. “Do you think you might be pregnant?”
“I have no idea,” I snap back at him, even though he’s honestly being pretty damn nice right now. “I hope not.” Closing my eyes, I take a calming breath and then glance over my shoulder at Aaron. He looks as ridiculous as Hael did in here, tattoos bathed in fluorescent light and silhouetted by sterile white walls. “If I were, would you hate me for it?”
He cocks his head at me, like he can’t even fathom where I’m coming from right now.
“Are you fucking with me, Bernie? I could never hate you.”
I look down at the items in my arms, and I feel so goddamn stupid all of a sudden. Victor is going to be the death of me. I’m going to end up pregnant and ruling the underworld of this stupid city. My breath escapes in a strong exhale, and I just feel so heavy all of a sudden.
“I’m not stupid; I understand how birth control works,” I say, more to myself than to Aaron really. He reaches out with an inked hand and takes the boxes from my overburdened arms. The brush of his fingertips across my skin leaves me breathless as I lift my gaze again.
“You’re not stupid at all,” Aaron says with a bit of a scowl, his attention fixing on the kids for a minute, calculating their distance from us, determining their relative safety. It’s what he lives for, after all, to protect his girls. “It’s Vic. He’s too intense for his own good. Havoc might be an acronym of our names, but it’s his brainchild.” Aaron turns back to me, expression softening as he taps his fingers against the side of one of the boxes. “Don’t let him get to you, Bern. If you want to be with him, fine, but don’t let him rule you.”
There’s no time for me to respond to that. Heather comes slinking around the corner, like she thought she might be able to eavesdrop on us for a minute. Too bad for her that I’m a master at that game.
“Ready to go?” I ask, ignoring her inquisitive stare as she tries to puzzle out what I’m holding in my hands. Luckily for me, Aaron has the pregnancy tests, so she doesn’t see shit.
“Yeah, I guess,” she says, getting pouty on me. She doesn’t like how much time I’m spending with the boys. She hasn’t said anything, but I can see it in her eyes. The thing is, she doesn’t understand the half of it. I’m not just hanging out with friends here; I’m seeking justice for Pen. For her.
For myself.
We head to the front and Aaron pays in cash, taking the paper bag in his right arm as I lead the way to the door.
I’m not two steps into the parking lot before I realize something’s wrong. The air smells strange, like gasoline and burnt rubber.
“What the hell is—” I start as Aaron reaches out and grabs me by my upper arm, yanking me back and out of the way of a speeding car. Several boys in clown masks lean out the window, chucking Molotov cocktails at the rear windshield of Aaron's van. They smash right through it, turning the vehicle into a blazing inferno within seconds. The fire sweeps over it like a gluttonous demon, gobbling it up with orange tongues and oppressive heat.
“Say hi to Vic for us!” one of the boys shouts as they speed off in fits of laughter.
Meanwhile, the girls scream, the van burns, and people come pouring out of the store to watch.
Guess that's it, isn't it?
This war is officially fucking on.
“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here,” Oscar murmurs, frowning as Aaron paces ruts in the freshly mowed grass of his backyard. That’s the first thing he did when we finished with the police and got Vic and Hael to pick us up, mowed his damn lawn. He did it shirtless, too, with a lit joint hanging out of his mouth.
Despite the shitty turn our Friday afternoon has taken, I won’t lie about my panties being soaked from the sight. Sitting in a plastic chair with my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs and give Oscar a strange look.
Apparently, I’m not the only one here who thinks that was a weird thing to say.
“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?” Hael asks, shaking his head and shoving his sunglasses up and into his red hair. He had to cut his date with Brittany short, and, since he only has four passenger seats in his car—I rode with Vic on the Harley—he had to drop the bitch off here before he could come to the police station for the girls and Aaron.
Brittany’s inside now, sitting on the couch and scowling as she browses TikTok videos on her phone.
“It’s a Shakespeare quote,” Oscar replies smoothly, clearly annoyed at us for having to explain his intellectual prowess. “Which you’d know if you actually managed to pass your classes. It was a reference, to explain our current situation. Victor?”
Vic is watching Aaron carefully, like he expects him to fly off the handle at any moment and go batshit. He rubs at his chin, proving that he’s already deep in thought.
“Our plans for this weekend don’t change,” he says, and Aaron turns on him, the joint toppling from his parted lips.
“The fuck?” he asks as Callum kicks a leg up onto the plastic table between us and lights up another joint. He offers it up to Aaron, but he’s not paying attention to anyone but Vic.
“We need to be proactive, not reactive,” Vic says, which is probably true. My attention shifts to Aaron. Every fiber of his being screams violence. It’s written in the tenseness of his muscles, the tightness of his jaw, the clench of his teeth. “Next weekend, we will deliver a package to the Ensbrook place. I have something nice in mind.”
“They could’ve hurt the kids,” Aaron snarls, shaking as he bends down to grab his discarded shirt. He drags it over his sweaty face, leaving bits of grass on his skin. I imagine if I were to get close to him, he’d smell like fresh grass and new sweat. My body tingles and I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “They could’ve killed them. Shit, they almost ran Bernadette over.”
Vic glances briefly in my direction, but quickly turns his focus back to Aaron.
“And they’ll pay handsomely for that—in time. If we start reacting to every little thing the Charter Crew does, that means they own us. Unfortunately for them, that’s not the case. We are the masters of this city, Aaron.”
Aaron just scowls, spitting at Vic’s booted feet as he storms past and into the house. He heads straight for the staircase, pounding his way up. Even over the distant buzz of the neighbor’s lawnmowers, I can hear his door slam upstairs.
He’s in his room which, oddly enough, has sort of become my room when I’m here. Not sure what to make of that, but I like sleeping wrapped in his sandalwood and rose scent too much to bring it up lest I get banished to the room with the bunkbeds. Come to think of it though, after my marriage to Vic, I’ll probably be sleeping in the downstairs bedroom with him.
“We’ll need to procure Aaron a new vehicle,” Oscar says absently, one, long finger sliding across the screen of his iPad. “I’ll schedule it for next week, when we deal with Bernadette.”
“Deal with me how?” I ask, but Callum’s smiling, so it can’t be all that bad. He lifts his hand up and flashes me his knuckles with the word HAVOC scrawled across them. He wiggles his fingers at me, and my o
wn hand throbs in response. I cradle it to my chest, desperate to hide the sudden beating of my heart. Somehow, the idea of getting that tattoo makes this all seem more real, like … once I take that step, I can never go back.
“I’ll take the girls to school for now,” Hael muses, his face falling. “But they’ll have to deal with Brittany’s bitching on the way. Speaking of, what do you want me to do with her?”
“I already explained we had plans for tonight,” Vic says, turning back to his best friend. “I don’t give a shit if her date was cut short; shit happens. Take her home.”
Hael works his jaw for a moment before turning and heading back into the house. It only takes about five seconds before the screaming starts.
“God help me, but I hate that woman with a passion,” Oscar says, setting his tablet aside and steeling his inked fingers beneath his chin. He looks ridiculous, sitting out here in the sunshine in a suit and tie. He also looks dangerous as fuck. “We should kill her after the baby is born.”
I choke on my own spit, but Vic just rolls his eyes, making me question whether that statement was serious or not. He did flat-out admit to me the other day that Danny wasn’t their first body in the ground. How many others are there? I wonder if I should even ask.
“Finish that joint, and then get up. You and I have errands to run,” Vic says, nodding his chin in Cal’s direction. I wonder if the two of them have talked about what happened between me and Callum at the studio, or about what I did to Kali. I’m not about to ask because that’ll give Vic exactly what he wants: confirmation that I can’t get him out of my head, no matter how hard I try.
Cal salutes Vic with the joint and then takes a long drag, passing it over to me as he sits up. Our fingers brush, but I keep my body’s reaction as hidden as I possibly can. But to deny there’s chemistry there? I once read a book, some time loop story called Devils’ Day Party, where the main character said, “Lying to other people is insane; lying to yourself is suicidal.”
Chaos at Prescott High Page 15