Anders remains in the kitchen, taking bites and frowning at his feet. I don’t know why he’s so tense. Maybe like Future this morning, Anders isn’t sure what to make of his new life.
Walking to him, I hug my grand sequoia and remind him how his heart is full of sunshine. He isn’t the Antichrist, and he doesn’t have to get high to be happy. If he chooses not to smile today, that’s okay, too. Not every day is a celebration. Some are sour, and others are filled with pain.
Anders’s mind could be focused on the past, present, or future. There’s no telling since he hides his thoughts, afraid of them being mocked.
But I love him, and I am relieved his story and mine are written together. If the Village has to burn to allow us a happy future, then so be it.
ANDERS
Pixie takes good care of her little brother, feeding him and changing his diapers. Fairuza is very focused on the list and map. Though I don’t know the woman well, I suspect fucking with her might lead to my death one day. Fairuza Yabo owns a temper that she clearly handed down to Pixie. The younger two seem mellow, but that might be from weeks of malnourishment and fear.
“While you ladies eat,” Conor announces, “I need to talk business with the big man outside.”
Bronco’s nephew charms the women so easily. Fairuza is mostly happy to know how the stove works—which I could have explained if they just woke me up. Pixie and her mother are very excited about the eventual death of John Marks. Pixie doesn’t really look at Conor any differently than she looked at Bronco and Lowell. I need to keep my jealousy in check.
On the other hand, what would Bronco do if Lana admired another man? How would he handle her leaving him or ripping out his fucking heart? Pixie claimed I look up to my president. Well, then shouldn’t I be, at least, as irrational as he would be in the same situation?
“I’m not interested in Pixie,” Conor says once we’re outside with the door shut. “She isn’t interested in me, either. You should have seen the look on her face when I was trying to talk my way into the house by explaining who I was.”
“I know all that.”
“Do you?”
“I know now,” I admit, shrugging. “So, what is the business you mentioned? We’re not just out here to talk about my feelings, are we?”
“No, but you were wearing the same look on your face as when you considered breaking Wyatt’s neck. I figured you ought to understand how I’m not your enemy.”
“I always want to break Wyatt’s neck. I just usually hide it better.”
“Fair enough. So, are we good?”
“Yeah, we’re fine.”
For nearly a minute, Conor’s heavy-lidded eyes study me. I hear he resembles his dead dad. When he looks at me, does he see the club that ambushed his father?
“Today, my mother and aunt, along with a few other women, plan to show up to vet your people. Prepare for that level of obnoxious behavior. Topanga and Lana will likely show up to play defense.”
“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘vet’ them.”
Shrugging, Conor looks out at my yard. “A handful of people are concerned about members of the Volkshalberd living inside the Woodlands. Those honeys act as if Pixie and her family are sleeper agents, preparing to attack.”
“That’s fucking stupid. You know that, right?”
“Well, to be fair, I could see Fairuza and Pixie taking out a few people if they were up to no good. Though I doubt they’d bring the baby along on their kill mission.”
Despite knowing Conor’s kidding, I’m irritated by the idea of my club brothers’ honeys harassing Pixie. “What are they hoping to learn by coming to my house?”
“Oh, it’s not just your house. They want to turn the September birthday bash at the community clubhouse into a ‘Welcome, Village Weirdos” party.”
“And I would be okay with that, why?”
Smirking, Conor runs both hands through his dark brown hair. “Honestly, man, you don’t really have a choice. Even Bronco had to bring everyone to his house eventually to meet Lana. He spread the process out over a few weeks during dinner parties, but the honeys had to size up Lana. They’ll want to do the same thing with Pixie.”
“Maybe I ought to do that dinner party shit instead.”
“Really?” Conor asks, looking ready to laugh. “Do you really want to spend every night for weeks having nosy honeys