“You're not going to like Hael's dad,” he tells me, and I cock a brow, so done with his bullshit I could scream. We're going to have to have it out soon, Vic and me.
“Why’s that?” I quip back, popping my hip out and putting my hand on it.
“Because he murdered a pregnant prostitute,” Vic replies with a sardonic smile. He moves past me and down the hall, leaving me to gape behind him. A million questions slither through my mind, but I'm not about to miss out on this interaction. I move down the hall as quick as I can, expecting to find a man like my stepfather, a wolf in wolf's clothing. The Thing never tries to hide what a monster he is. He feels protected, by his badge and his brother's law degree and his father's gavel.
Instead, I find a slender man in a baseball cap, smiling as he pulls the hat from his head and holds it against his chest.
“Long time, no see, son,” he says as Hael stares at him from across the width of the small living room. The sweet smell of creamed butter and sugar wafts out from the direction of the kitchen. It's at odds with the tension in the room, reminding me that not everything is as it seems. The air smells sweet, the sound of Hael's mother's humming is comforting, but the look in Hael's eyes promises there's much more to this happy, little story than he's letting on.
“I mean, that's what happens when you go to prison,” Hael retorts, shrugging again, like this is no big deal. He plasters one of those cocksure smiles on his face, putting a bit of swagger back in his step.
“I've been out for damn near a month, and yet, you haven't bothered to see me,” the man—his name was Martin, wasn't it?—smiles as he glances from his son to Vic, then over to Oscar and me. “Do you want to introduce your new friend?” Martin continues to smile at me, like we're old buddies. “I remember the others. Victor and Oscar, right?”
“Guess the meth hasn't rotted your brain the way it did your judgement, huh?” Hael asks, throwing out a laugh. He gestures back at me. “This is Bernadette. We met a long time ago, right after you went to prison for the first time, and Mom and I were homeless. Spent the night in the same homeless shelter.”
Something strange and dark flashes across Martin's face, and I can see that the smile on his lips isn't the whole story. There are monsters buried underneath all that nice.
“Let's go,” Hael says, but then his mother comes out of the kitchen in her apron, wielding a wooden spoon covered in cookie dough.
“Ne me laisse pas fiston,” she pleads, her voice cracking a bit, like she can't bear to see her son go. I have no idea what she's saying, but it's pretty clear she wants Hael to stay here. He sighs heavily and nods, murmuring something to her in French that makes her smile.
“I gotta take Oscar back, and I'll come home,” he promises, giving Martin a look. “Wouldn't want to leave you home alone with him very long anyway.” Hael takes off for the front door, letting it slam into the wall on his way out.
“Lovely to meet you, Bernadette,” Martin says, nodding as we pass by. He seems nice enough on the surface, but we all know that what lies beneath could be a vastly different story.
Sitting on the back of that bike, my arms wrapped around Vic, I'm forced to confront everything I'm feeling. How can I sit here and smell him, that musky mix of leather and bergamot that makes my heart flutter and melts the ice around my heart, and not evaluate everything that’s going on inside of me?
Maybe, if I were to dig a little deeper, I'd realize that the reason I'm so upset with Havoc is because I wanted to trust them. I wanted to believe that I really was a Havoc Girl, that I was a part of the gang. But finding out they kept something so big from me, it seems impossible.
“Are you planning on going home tonight?” Victor asks me after we park on the curb in front of Aaron's house and he kicks off the bike's engine with his boot. He doesn't move, so neither do I, waiting with my arms wrapped around him as dusk settles over the quiet neighborhood. A