the railroad tracks. They still serve malts and Shirley Temples and all that old-timey shit in there.
“Even I don’t know the answer to that.” Aaron pushes the door open, bells tinkling in our wake, and I swear to fuck, every face in that room turns to watch us with wary eyes. Where Havoc goes, trouble follows. “Only Vic and Oscar do,” he adds as we head up to the counter and several students clear the red-leather stools to make room for us. “I could ask if I wanted, but I don’t.”
Aaron orders two chocolate shakes for us and then parks his chin in his hand, elbow resting against the cracked old countertops.
“I can’t believe they fire-bombed my van today,” he says absently, tapping his fingers against the side of his face. The car is trashed, by the way, a burnt shell of its former self, and yet another flame-washed memory of his mother. We told the cops it seemed like a random act of violence; they didn’t believe us for shit. I’m sure the news of today’s incident has already made its way back to the Thing.
“Are you going to get another car?” I ask, thinking of the two grand I buried in the backyard. That’s enough for a shitty clunker. Maybe I should buy one? I don’t have a license, but frankly I need to get on that shit. Having a car and being able to drive it, that’s a tool I need in my arsenal.
“Havoc will get me another car,” Aaron replies smoothly, sitting up as our milkshakes are slid across the counter to us. He stirs his with a metal straw as I cock a brow in question.
“Aaron, you are a part of Havoc. You’re the fucking A in the equation. How much money do you guys have squirreled away?” It’s difficult for me to gauge what the guys have going on finance wise. They all still live in relative dumps, Oscar and Callum don’t have rides, and yet, Vic gave me two thousand bucks and told me I have twenty grand to plan our wedding.
Our wedding …
Shit.
Just thinking about it gives me the chills.
“About fifty thousand,” he says, lifting those beautiful eyes of his to mine. They’re mosaics of color, like some wicked god dropped to earth for an afternoon to play with gold and green tiles. A lot of care was put into those irises of his. “We’d have more, but Victor likes to reinvest. We pay all our guys, too.” He shrugs his big shoulders and gives a caustic laugh. “Once he gets his inheritance, everything will be different.”
I exhale and take a sip of my drink, just to give myself a moment.
“Do you have any idea how much is on the line?” I ask, looking down at the ring on my finger. The temptation to run is still there. I think it’ll always be there, this sweet far-off promise of a life without worries, without bloodshed and pain. But I’ve made my bed here, and I plan to sleep in it—even if it’s a forever sort of sleep.
“Millions,” Aaron says, looking up at me. He leans close, one of his legs going between my own. I swallow hard, but I don’t say anything as his knee brushes up against the crotch of my pants. “So much money that it’s hard for me to hate the idea of you marrying Vic.” Aaron reaches out and slides his warm hand over the top of mine.
“Hard for you to hate it, but you still do?” I ask, and he smiles. This time, it’s a real smile, one that’s painted in shadows and darkness. He isn’t pretending to be the old Aaron, all soft fluffy clouds and sunshine. This time, he’s letting me see a little piece of who he’s become over the last few years.
“I hate it so much that it keeps me up at night,” he tells me, shifting his knee so that it rubs against me in a tantalizing sort of way. There’s a dam between us, one that’s going to come tumbling down. As soon as it does, I won’t be able to resist the flood. It’s going to sweep me away and drown me. “You as his wife, Bernie?” he says with another low laugh. His eyes meet mine, and a zing shoots through me, like a bullet pinging around inside my body, making me bleed, causing internal damage. Might be sort of fucked that that’s the analogy I go straight to,