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[chaos-weekly]

bwahahaha

MJ was currently brainstorming ways to get out of her date tomorrow. She had been on dates before; hell, she’d already been part of three on the show: skiing with Aaron, horseback riding with McKenzie, and ice fishing with Luca. Unfortunately, none of those had worked out. Aaron matched with Camille, they’d blacked out the night she and Kenz had paired up, and she and Lucky were voted into the Truth Booth only to find they weren’t a match, despite their shared hope that they were. 

That Truth Booth had been two weeks ago, and MJ had felt herself slowly slipping away since then. She’d proven herself right once more: getting excited about something or someone so uncertain was never worth it. It was always better to know the outcome before letting herself develop feelings. The past eight weeks, MJ had worked so hard to open up her heart and be vulnerable, only to be shot down again and again. Sure, she wasn’t the only girl failing at finding love, but she wasn’t a hopeless romantic like they were. She couldn’t just get up and keep trying. The only good news was that playing the game didn’t take your heart, only strategy and a half-assed attempt at making a connection. MJ could do that. MJ could bubble wrap her heart up and put it on the highest shelf. MJ could definitely play the game.

But while playing the game didn’t use her heart, going on dates did, which was exactly why she didn’t want to go on this date tomorrow. She should’ve thrown the challenge, but he was too competitive. She liked that about him. She liked a lot about him. Which was stupid.

MJ’s heart was bubble wrapped, sure, but Berlin had somehow built and climbed a ladder, carefully picked it up, and was now slowly peeling away layer after layer of bubble wrap. 

And he was so excited for their date, even if she wasn’t. She’d laughed as he’d spun her around after winning the challenge, whispering, “Hot springs with a hot girl,” in her ear, but it was nervous laughter. If he’d picked up on that, he hadn’t let her know, but did he feel her hand shaking in his as they’d made their way back to the house? Did he hear her heart pounding when Ryan congratulated them? Did he sense her hesitation when she kissed him back at the pool party after dinner? If he had, he hadn’t said anything, and it was likely that he wouldn’t. Berlin knew well enough why she was nervous, even if he had a hard time empathizing.

MJ checked her watch– 2:30am. Her heart was performing an aggressive tap dance on her chest, so she wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon. She sighed, sat up on her mattress in the pitch black room, grabbed her backpack, and made her way down to the empty living room. Once she was settled into her favorite spot on the couch, she pulled out her laptop and headphones and got to work.

Whenever MJ got anxious, she edited her videos. It was a focused, mindless activity that allowed her to push her anxiety to the side until she was ready to process. In one week, she’d be out of this house and could focus on her mental well-being, but for now she needed to swallow any overwhelming emotions. For now, she could focus her anxious energy onto editing her video journal about her ten weeks in Hell rather than her impending date.

While Week Nine’s videos uploaded, she watched the progress of the journal so far. Even though she’d watched her footage back a million times over, something captivated her this time: she was so happy. It had been a long time since she’d seen herself so happy, so carefree. It wasn’t even just about the dates. It was more about the moments in between: completing challenges, playing Truth or Dare, having random snowball fights, filling the jacuzzi with bubbles, speed dating, the talent show, drinking hot chocolate late at night by the fire. And there seemed–

A big hand on her shoulder made her jump, and MJ twisted quickly in her seat to see McKenzie standing over her, brows furrowed. She pulled off her headphones, eyes still wide.

“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, Australian accent thick and tired.

“God, Kenz,” MJ sighed, falling back into the couch. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

“You would’ve heard me say your name twice if you hadn’t been wearing those headphones.” 

“I might’ve heard, but there’s no way I would’ve understood. Have you ever considered dropping the accent? It might help your professional career.”

“Funny,” Kenzie said dryly, sitting down beside her on the couch and turning his attention to the screen. “How’s the video going?”

“Fine. I’m just rewatching it.” Her laptop dinged, and her folder with her new videos started uploading into the current video.

“You looked entranced.”

“I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Stuff.”

Kenz sighed, leaning back into the couch and twisting his head to look at her.

“I thought we were better friends than that, Maya June.” He’d been saying that to her for weeks; it was part of the reason they thought they might be a match in the first place: they helped each other open up.

“About how nice it is to see myself happy,” she admitted. He smiled.

“Anything else?” Of course there was something else, but her anxiety was starting to boil in her stomach again, so she turned her head back to the screen.

“Watch it all with me,” MJ said in lieu of an answer, disconnecting her headphones and letting the videos, new ones included, play quietly in the empty room. Rewatching the past weeks’ clips only confirmed her previous suspicions. As the Week Nine videos played, they were confirmed in a different way. Her inner turmoil was reflected right in front of her on the screen, the fight between heart and brain, between taking a risk and staying safe. 

In Weeks 1-8, Berlin had been part of every moment that she was at her happiest, her most free. Even when she was curled up by the fire after the Truth Booth with Lucky, he was the one sitting next to her, his arm around her shoulders. The clip had no sound, but she remembered what they whispered to each other when everyone else had gone back inside:

“You’re strong, MJ,” he’d said. “You’re going to come back from this.”

“I don’t really think I want to.”

“Don’t lie to yourself. I know you’re going to come back from this.” There was a look on his face that made her realize that he’d known before she did, way before he was even a thought in her mind. Berlin had been handling her glass heart for much longer than she recognized.

The video ended, and while Kenz stared at her, she stared at the frozen last clip: her arms around his neck after he’d hurled them into the pool, faces in a soft post-kiss smile. 

Kenz shut the laptop, slipped it in her backpack, and turned his whole body to face her. 

“Anything else?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to wash my face and go to bed.” MJ stood up, rubbing her eyes. She’d grab her backpack in the morning, but she needed to take advantage of the cloud she was floating on. Kenz stood too, stretching his arms above his head. They wandered up the stairs together, but she paused in front of the bathroom.

“Kenz?” she asked. There was a nervous softness about her voice.

“Yeah, MJ?”

“Vote us into the Truth Booth tomorrow. Please.”

 Kenz didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He’d probably know before she did, too.

MJ slipped into the bathroom and started washing her face, only to be startled for the second time that evening by the flushing of a toilet and the swinging open of a stall door.

“How long have you been up for?” Berlin asked, joining her at the sinks. 

“Too long,” she replied. Her stomach was a gentle tide pool, softly rippling through her body. “I’m glad we’re just floating in the hot springs tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking away from her. “Just floating.”

So he had noticed her hesitancy. He had noticed her pushing him away. Berlin didn’t even have to say anything, but she knew. MJ turned her attention back to moisturizing her face.

“You’re going to bed now?” he asked, wiping his wet hands on his pajama pants. 

“Hopefully.” The tide pool was slowly becoming a wave pool, pounding against her insides, pounding against her heart. He was walking towards the door.

“Well,” she said suddenly and louder than she meant to, her body twisting quickly towards him. He paused, turning to look at her. 

“Coming to bed. If you don’t mind.”

It took a minute, but recognition slowly set in. He was trying not to smile, but his eyes were sparkling.

“No. No, please.”

MJ nodded quickly, also trying not to smile.

“I’ll be there in a minute, then.” 

The minute he left, a smile broke out that she was sure stretched all the way in to her heart.

[chaos-weekly]

“You’re sure it’s fine?” Nollie asked for what was probably the tenth time. She cradled a sleeping Livi in her arms, her fingers absentmindedly stroking her soft head. When Nollie and London had showed up at the bar to have her lawyer friend review the publishing contract for her book, the baby had screamed and clawed for Nollie until Xander finally passed her off. Olivia had been an angel ever since. Didi may have been her godmother, but Nollie was Olivia’s favorite.

“It’s better than fine,” Imogen reassured. “This publisher is really buttering you up, Nollie. They’ll probably want you to write more books if this one sells as well as the contract anticipates.”

“So I should sign it?”

“If you don’t, I will.”

Nollie laughed, and Immy slid the contract and a pen across the desk to her. She picked the pen up hesitantly. Once she signed this and faxed it in, it was all over. Printing for her very first book would start Monday. But this is what she wanted. Her grip on the pen tightened, she swallowed, and Nollie signed the contract before she could change her mind again.

“Congrats, Nollie,” Immy said gently, sliding the contract away from her and over to the ancient fax machine in the bar’s office. “You’re officially an author!”

Before she could respond, a loud clattering noise and a string of expletives echoed throughout the bar, startling all three girls in the back office. Liv’s blue eyes popped open and a cry immediately fell from her mouth. Nollie and Immy exchanged an all-knowing glance and headed out into the bar, Olivia sniffling as Nollie bounced her on her hip.

The bar was a construction zone. After Imogen and Xander found out they were pregnant with Olivia, they quit their jobs, bought the trucker bar Imogen worked at on weekends, and started making plans to remodel after the baby was born. The remodel was just about done, and Xander had asked London and Paris to paint a mural on one of the walls, which is what they’d been doing when Paris fell off his ladder. Correction: Paris fell off the ladder he’d precariously balanced atop stacked empty paint cans. Now he was on the floor covered in freshly spilled paint while his brother and Xander laughed hysterically.

“At least help me up,” Paris whined, arms stretched up like he was trying to grab hold of someone. A cackling London pulled him up, shaking his head.

“Ask for the taller ladder next time, dumbass,” he replied. He made his way over to Nollie, kissing her cheek before squatting down to visit with Liv.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he cooed in his adorable baby voice. “What beautiful blue eyes you have!” The baby smiled as he tickled her sides, a little giggle slipping from her lips. Nollie smiled as London pulled Olivia from her arms, taking her into his own like she was biologically his. She didn’t miss the glance Xander and Immy shared or the smile plastered on Paris’s face (even if it looked like the act caused him pain) as London admired Liv. She saw what they were seeing as well, and it gave her butterflies in the best way.

“You’re sure we can’t keep her?” London asked. He’d asked earlier that day, too.

“I’m afraid you can’t,” Xander said, “but you’d have better luck with that question at three in the morning.”

“Or you could do us all a favor and make me an uncle,” Paris begged.

Nollie blushed. Two months ago, she and London had celebrated their one year (or technically, nine months) with a little diamond ring and a little too much wine. They’d been less than safe that night, and she had panicked immediately the following morning. While the pregnancy test had been surprisingly negative, the more surprising thing was their shared disappointment. So now, while they weren’t trying to have a baby, they weren’t not trying to, either.

They’d decided that nugget of information didn’t need to be known by anyone yet, not even their closest friends.

“Maybe in a few years, Paris,” London said, handing Olivia off to Xander. “No matter how much Nollie’s mom says she likes me, I think she’d kill me if I knocked up her daughter before the wedding.”

“Which is…” Paris said, clearly waiting for a response. Nollie shrugged.

“We still haven’t picked a date. We’re not in a rush.”

“Well, she’s not in a rush,” London said. “But I am.” His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her close. He was smiling the same way he had when they’d gotten milkshakes together on their first date, the same way he had when she’d agreed to be his girlfriend, the same way he had when he’d finished unpacking his last box in their apartment in New York, the same way he had when she’d agreed to marry him. He’d described it as his “I’m gonna be with her forever” smile. It made her heart skip a beat every time.

She smiled, too.

“You’ll find a date soon enough,” Immy said, pulling a restless Liv away from Xander. “But I think you have a flight to catch, and Olivia’s getting hungry.” Nollie checked her watch.

“Yeah, we need to get going,” Nollie said, moving forward to say her goodbyes. “Thank you all for everything.”

“Of course,” Xander said, grinning. “But the next time I hear from you better be to tell me I’m your man of honor.”

Nollie laughed and shook her head.

“You got it, Xan.”

//

Jet lag didn’t really get to Nollie, but she’d was happy to have any excuse to lay in bed with London late on Monday morning. Normally they were both up at six, but today, it was eight-thirty and she was still curled into his side. It was going to be a good day.

She slipped out of bed to go to the bathroom. As she washed her face in the mirror, she couldn’t take her eyes off of her jewelry box. Nollie walked over and opened it, pulling out a navy velvet pouch and dumping two polished wood rings into her hand. She rolled the larger one around in her hand. Her grandfather had made these for her and London when they’d visited Tennessee after getting engaged. They were beautiful and perfect.

They were also wedding bands.

Nollie slipped the rings back into the pouch and brought them back into the bedroom with her. She climbed on top of London, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Good morning,” London murmured, giving her another kiss. “Can we spend all day doing this?”

“Mm, after.”

“After what?” His hands had made their way to her butt, and she was doing her best not to get distracted.

“Let’s get married, London.”

All movements paused, and she lifted her head up to see him better. He was staring intently at her, his mind clearly frozen.

“When?” he asked slowly, testing the waters.

“The courthouse opens at nine.”

Nollie couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. Yesterday, she’d told people she wasn’t in a rush to get married. Today, she was suggesting they go to the city courthouse.

“I don’t want to wait any more, London. You were right to be in a hurry. I want to be your wife. We can throw a big party soon, but I want to go to bed tonight as your wife.” It was quiet again. The waiting was making her antsy. Finally, he sat them both up, arms wrapped around her.

“What should I wear, Mrs. Lovell?”

[chaos-weekly]

Three months. Three months since Nollie had decided to stay in NYC. Two months since London moved out there to open another studio. One month since JJ had gone on tour with Arsenic. It would last another three months, since they were doing a world tour. Didi had already been to two shows, and she FaceTimed JJ every night no matter how late, plus a million texts (mostly on her part) throughout the day, but it had still been a solid week and a half since she’d seen the man she was in love with.

But now? Now everyone was in town for her annual Halloween party. In the past, she’d had Nollie and Xander as cohosts. This year she had Varya, one of the few friends who she’d been able to keep up with regularly. Xander was still her closest friend, but he was also a father now and seriously off the radar with fame since getting serious with Imogen. She was the Joe Alwyn to his Taylor Swift.

JJ would arrive at the party a little late and in costume. Didi wasn’t allowed to know what he was dressing as, but he promised her she’d love him even more for it. That obviously meant he was going to embarrass her while also being annoyingly sexy. It was what he did.

For now, Ainsley and Varya were getting ready with Didi and Nollie in the apartment she and Varya now shared. Turned out the Bratva princess with a penchant for knitting and vodka was actually a really good friend and even better roommate. Unlike a certain someone, Varya didn’t always encourage JJ’s teasing. Probably because she wasn’t as social, so she didn’t have as many opportunities. She still encouraged him whenever they write both with Didi.

She had terrible taste in people.

“Turn this song up!” Didi shrieked, recognizing the first few notes of Arsenic’s latest hit. It was a single, the newest one, from their new album, aptly named Diabolical. JJ had been jokingly asked if he was the devil or referencing Hell in every interview since then. Also, there had been too many jokes about him not having a soul and stealing those around him. No, the only thing he’d stolen was Didi’s heart.

“It’s overplayed,” Varya complained, but she still complied.

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s about me and I’m amazing,” Didi retorted. When she’d first heard the song, a week after she and JJ had actually gotten together, at the album release event, she’d almost cried. JJ said it was a last minute addition, and his band mates had insisted he add it, even though it was a little different from their usual style. It was slower, a little more intoxicating and poetic. Not that their other songs weren’t poetic, but this one was poetry. Didi loved it almost as much as she loved her man.

“He’s literally talking about how insane you are,” Nollie pointed out.

“He calls me diabolically divine. That’s a compliment, Magnolia.”

“Because your name is Divina and you’re certifiably devilish.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Didi rolled her eyes before waving her best friend over. “Now come do my eyeliner!” It may have been three months, but Didi still sucked at eyeliner. This was why it was important to have model friends.

“Didi, you’re going as the devil for Halloween,” Ainsley said, coming back into the room from grabbing more wine in the kitchen. Maybe pregaming wasn’t the best move, but Didi limited herself to one big glass.

“It’s my favorite song, okay? The world deserves to see how diabolical I can get.”

“More like intolerable.” But Nollie was teasing with her words. Had she not had liquid eyeliner against her eyelid, Didi would have glared.

“Whatever! Varya, do you have a man yet? We need to find you someone. Ainsley, you interested?”

At the same time, both Varya and Ainsley replied with a resounding no. Didi frowned.

“Ainsley isn’t into people in like any way. He doesn’t even do friends,” Nollie reminded, still joking.

“No, he does friend, and it’s you,” Varya agreed.

Didi saw Ainsley cross look skyward and probably mutter a pleading prayer for patience as he dealt with the impossible trip of maniacs.

“True.”

For Varya’s costume, she wouldn’t be going home alone. Technically, she wasn’t Elsa because dressing as a sexy Elsa would be weird. No, Varya was Jack(eline) Frost. Considering it was LA in October, there wasn’t any snow, but the icy blues and snowy whites of her sexy dress complemented her fair complexion. Ainsley had outdone himself on all of their costumes. Didi had a seductive red number (plus some lingerie underneath that she knew JJ would love even more) on that drew inspiration from Nollie’s “sexiest friend” outfit. And Nollie’s costume? She’d insisted on something playful for her and London. They were dressed as tourists, complete with unstylish fanny packs and tropical shirts. Somehow, Ainsley had managed to design an ugly outfit, but he’d never admit that he had made it. It went against all he stood for. The man loved aesthetics more than Oscar Wilde.

////

“I wish you could stay for more than a few minutes,” Didi pouted, pulling Xander and then Imogen in for quick hugs. Imogen held their little girl, named Olivia, against her, and Didi made sure to kiss her goddaughter’s bald head. Despite Xander and Imogen’s masses of thick hair, little Livi had next to none at two months old.

“Wait ‘til you and Jude have kids. Then you’ll really wish that,” Xander teased. Didi flushed at the thought.

“Yeah, we’re still in the practicing stage for making babies, not exactly trying to have them even.”

“We’re trying to have what?”

Xander and Imogen both chuckled as Didi spun around and all but tackled her boyfriend in a hug. JJ knew the deal, and he was prepared enough to catch her. Both times she had seen him since tour started (only two weeks apart in the last month), she’d ran up to him and jumped on to him in a hug. From someone who used to only see physical affection as a casual thing, she was surpassingly cuddly, but only with JJ.

“You’re still practicing making babies,” Imogen said, smiling wryly at the couple. JJ grinned wickedly at the statement.

“How’s Livi?” JJ asked, walking over to his friends with Didi under his arm. It took about half a second for Xander to start rambling about her cuteness, all the photos he’d taken, bedtime stories and how when he used silly voices she would sometimes smile, and the pure joy of holding her in his arms. For an unplanned baby coming to a relatively new couple, Livi was in a house filled with love, loyalty, and adoration. They were all still new to Xander, but he was glad he finally had them.

////

“Baby,” Didi began, staring JJ down from her spot on the bar top (well, she was still looking up to him; her man was tall). “Are you aware that you’re dressed as Guy Fieri?”

“Ginger,” JJ corrected, smirking at her. Didi scowled further.

“Ginger Guy Fieri. Excuse my mistake.”

“I don’t know if I can, sweet thang. You don’t get off with disrespecting my hair that easily.” Ever since the Jimmy Fallon interview where JJ’s band mates had outed his high maintenance hair routine, his fans and his friends alike had taken to teasing him about it relentlessly. It worked, because JJ played right back.

“Too bad. You’re gonna forgive me anyways,” Didi said, rolling her eyes. JJ raised an eyebrow.

“Sure about that? Apologize, Divina, or the Hair Gods will take their revenge out on you, and I rather like your hair.”

This was like the Ben and Jerry incident all over again, except this time Didi was used to his antics. She loved them even more now.

“Fine. I am so sorry, Hair Gods, for insinuating that JJ’s hair isn’t a beautiful ginger masterpiece.”

JJ leaned in as she finished, his lips brushing the shell of her ear with a low chuckle. “Somebody’s a suck up. Beautiful ginger masterpiece, huh?”

“I’d rather not fuel your ego, but sometimes the truth does that anyways.”

////

London stood on the outskirts of the party, watching his girlfriend dance with her girls on the bar top. Varya and Didi both wore sexy minidresses, but he only had eyes for Nollie in her Bermuda shorts (tan, of course) and vibrant tropical shirt. She would rock a paper bag.

“That blonde chick is hot,” Paris said, ogling Varya from his spot next to his brother.

“She’s also a Russian mob princess. Be careful not to get on her bad side,” London deadpanned. He loved his little brother. He, Bishop, and Langston were his closest friends. But Paris behaved much like a younger London: he had eyes for everything that moved. At least London could commit to one person. Paris hadn’t learned how to do that yet.

“Even hotter,” Paris gushed. “Dangerous and sexy.”

“Get her a vodka and she’ll love you forever.” This came from Langston, who had become friends with Varya through Xander and Imogen. Their whole circle of friends was now incredibly interconnected. London couldn’t keep track of how they all knew each other now.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Paris said, slinking off towards the bar.

“You gonna get up and dance with her?” Langston asked, teasing London about the bar top dancing from Xander’s party six or seven months earlier. London shot Langston a grin.

“I knew you were a genius with more than just buildings.” He followed after his brother, jumping up to climb on the bar and dance behind Nols. He was grateful for her, even if their first attempt at a relationship had ended roughly for him. It was a wake up call he’d needed long before, and sadly Nollie had bore the brunt of the burden. But they’d both grown, opened up, and matured. Nollie even had a publishing contract set up for a memoir she was in the process of editing. Line edits were due next week, but luckily for his girlfriend, London had impeccable grammar. Even if his texting style was atrocious.

////

Most of the night had passed by, and JJ helped Didi down from dancing on the bar top.

“You know what today is?” he asked. Didi shook her head and spun around to face him.

“Halloween.”

“Nope, it’s our seven month anniversary.”

Didi furrowed her perfectly done eyebrows. “Okay?”

“The contract is up, sweet thang. You can officially fire Jared,” JJ said, grinning at the thought of firing her pervy manager/agent. The guy was a little too interested in their intimacy and actual relationship. Also, he totally slut-shamed Didi but admired Xander’s former playboy ways.

Didi squealed with excitement. JJ winced at the volume and pitch.

“On that painful note, please, never make that noise again.”

Didi whacked his chest. “Jude, you love when I scream.”

“In the bedroom or my concerts, princess, not at your parties.”

“Too bad. I’m happy, tipsy, and ready to show you just how excited I am.”

His grin grew. “Well, who am I to deny you your excitement?”

It was time for Didi to show her man just how hot her red lingerie was.

[chaos-weekly]

f for failure

She’d already established with herself that this wasn’t a date, but her pounding heart was telling her otherwise. Tony had asked her to be his date for a fancy event for college. Shiloh knew that he probably just didn’t want to look stupid by being one of the few people there alone, but it didn’t change the fact that she was going with him in a role that was usually filled by a significant other and not a friend.

Penny Maine had helped her decide on a dress-- a burnt orange number that made the deep tan of her skin even more beautiful-- and jewelry, but Shiloh had switched her earring and necklace combination eight times (she was keeping track). She would have changed them again, but Tony’s familiar knock at her door forced her to move out of her bedroom for good. Her stomach was in her throat. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like she was the only nervous one; Tony’s face had a pained smile on it. If she wasn’t as on edge, she would have laughed. Instead, she just gave an equally nervous smile and followed him silently to his recently repaired car.

They made small talk on the way over. It was empty conversation and much unlike the other times they’d hung out alone. It was apparent to the both of them that this night was very much crossing a line they’d avoided even discussing, and neither of them were sure how to handle it. Once they arrived at the event, the pair was glad for the opportunity to socialize. Tony introduced her around, she was friendly with his friends from school and was surprising herself with how much she liked them. The food was good, the music was loud, and the event space was beautiful. The only problem was the two of them. It just felt like they were in two separate worlds.

Shiloh had decided to slip outside when Tony had gone off to talk to important donors and University faculty. It was a beautiful night, and she leaned against the balcony railing to admire the city lights more. She slipped her phone out of her purse and sent a message to Penny Maine: “plz pray-- event is fab but t is so awkward :/.”

“Hey.” Tony’s voice came from behind her, and she put her phone back in her purse and turned to look at him. He gave a sheepish smile and approached her, and she smiled softly in return.

“Hey, yourself,” she responded. He joined her at the balcony and leaned against it.

“Are you doing okay? I didn’t see you come out here.”

Shiloh looked back out over the city. It would be so much easier to say that she just needed a minute to compose herself, that being with people she didn’t really know was taking a toll on her after a long day of working. But it wouldn’t be true. She’d always prided herself on her honesty and her ability to check in with her emotions. And she trusted Tony.

“Not really,” Shiloh admitted, turning back towards him. He frowned. He never liked to see her upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she repeated. Tony nodded. He wouldn’t press it, and she respected that. A slow song started to play inside, and she could see couples start to move closer together and wrap their arms around each other, tangled in each other and wrapped in love. His eyes followed hers and he looked back and offered her his hand.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, smiling softly. She returned the smile and took his hand.

“Just out here, please. Just us.” She hoped that her words gave him butterflies just like they’d given her. He guided her hands around his neck and set his own on her waist, and they swayed back and forth in time with the music, just the two of them in their own bubble. Shiloh moved closer to him and he wrapped his arms fully around her, pausing their dance to simply rest. Her head fell against his chest, his chin sat atop her head. It was perfect.

“I want to be here with you,” she whispered softly. “I never felt obligated to come, even when you told me you just didn’t want to look dumb. I wanted to come.”

Was she crazy, or did his heart start pounding?

“I wouldn’t be here with anyone else,” Tony told her. “Only you, Shiloh. But I think we should get out of here now.” She just nodded in response, still in a warm, dreamy, haze. Shiloh let him lead her back to his car, her hand in his and never leaving, not even as he drove down the road they always took to the beach. They only separated for a moment when he stopped his car and grabbed a blanket from his back seat, but he grabbed her hand again as soon as he had the chance to, like he needed her touch to survive.

“I love the beach at night,” he told her as they walked barefoot in the sand closer to the waves. “No one’s around. It’s a good place to think.” And Shiloh could see why it was. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was therapeutic. The sky was lit up with stars. This was a good spot to contemplate life.

“What do you think about down here?” she asked.

“You, mostly.” There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice, but they both ignored it. She was still holding his hand. That was enough to show that she’d been thinking about him, too.

Tony laid the blanket out on the sand and they tossed their phones and keys onto it. Then, her hand still in his, he tugged her down to the water.

“Night swim,” he said.

“Night swim,” she agreed, a smile on her face. Shiloh picked up her pace into a soft run, but it wasn’t long before it was a full sprint into the surf, pulling a laughing Tony behind her. Her dress was immediately soaked, and she could see Tony loosening his damp tie in the moonlight. She decided to fully submerge herself, sinking beneath the waves and breaking through the surface laughing, finding Tony and grabbing his hands. He took the opportunity to spin her around before pulling her close and forcing the both of them underwater. When they broke through the surface, they were both laughing, her legs wrapped around his waist. They both decided that it would be the perfect moment to have their first kiss, but their teeth and noses collided, and they stumbled out of the water laughing and without a kiss.

The pair collapsed onto the blanket. Shiloh sighed, feeling happier than she’d felt in months. He hadn’t said a word, but she knew. She knew that Tony loved her like she loved him. It didn’t matter that they kept missing opportunities for kisses or spent awkward evenings together. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon, and he wasn’t either. 

The next thing Shiloh knew was that a bright light was being shined in her face.

“Hey, kids,” a gruff and very annoyed voice said. “Up and at ‘em. There’s no sleeping on the beach. You have to leave.” It must have been the middle of the night. She was feeling groggy, and Tony sat up rubbing his eyes like he’d had the worst sleep ever. They grabbed their things and walked off the beach in a zombie-like state. They were so exhausted that it took them several minutes to find Tony’s car and several more to wonder why the car wasn’t starting with the keys in the ignition.

Tony’s car had crashed. Again.

“Now is not the time for this,” he grumbled, reaching for the handle to get out of his car.

“Hold on,” Shiloh said, unlocking her phone and squinting in its bright light. “Benny has the tow truck. And he owes me.” 

Benny picked up almost immediately.

“Hola, Shiloh! What can I do for you at this extremely late hour that you shouldn’t be up at?” her brother’s sunny voice made her wince. It was two in the morning. She decided not to question why he was awake and so alive at this hour.

“Tony’s car isn’t starting and we need a tow,” she said. “We’re at the beach. Can you come get us?”

“Didn’t his thing end hours ago?” Benny asked. “And why are you--” 

“Now is not the time for questions. You owe me. Come get us.”

“Yeah, fine. But I’ll ask my questions at family dinner, I swear.”

“Fine. See you soon.”

///

It had taken a lot of convincing, but Benny had let Shiloh stay at Tony’s with him. He’d eventually decided that if something “bad” had already happened, it had been off of his watch. And besides, it was way too late for them to be getting into trouble now. Sure, Shiloh wouldn’t be able to escape all of the questions he’d ask them in front of the whole family Sunday night, but she could at least get out of them now. 

Benny had been right about it being too late for them to be getting into any trouble. By the time they’d both showered and put on clean clothes (Tony had given her a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt), they were too exhausted to do anything besides crawl underneath the covers and turn the lights off. 

She was surprised about how easy all of this felt. Maybe it was because they were both exhausted, but there was no conversation about where Shiloh would sleep or what she would wear. There weren’t any awkward feelings about her walking out of the bathroom in her towel so he could take his shower. And it certainly didn’t feel awkward now as they spooned in his bed, his head buried in her neck. Shiloh was immensely grateful that they’d skipped that, at least for the evening. Now was not the time to be having the “what in the world are we?” conversation, not that it wasn’t apparent enough already.

And it wasn’t weird in the morning either. She woke up before him and slipped out of bed (he’d rolled onto his back in the night and pushed the covers off of himself, effectively drowning her in the duvet) to make them both a cup of coffee and eggs. It didn’t feel weird when she shook his shoulder to wake him up. It didn’t feel weird sitting in the chair she always sat in alone, this time in between his legs. It was apparent what they were, what she was to him. Shiloh would like to hear him say it eventually, but for now, she felt so much peace just being Tony’s.

She’d texted Penny Maine to pick her up from Tony’s apartment around ten, and at 9:57, she received a text in all caps and lots of heart emojis that her ride had arrived. With a content sigh, Shiloh stood up and stretched her arms above her head with a little yawn. Tony stood up too, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into him, taking in his scent in a completely new way. 

“Family dinner is tonight,” she reminded him, pulling away after a few moments.

“Pick me up at 5:30?” he asked. 

“I mean, maybe,” Shiloh said, teasing him. “It might be better if you could drive yourself.”

“Funny, Shiloh.”

“I’m a comedian, Tony.”

Her hand rested on the half-turned door knob, but she was enjoying taking in his smile. Shiloh’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and she slipped out the front door and drove off with her friend.

///

“Tell me everything!” Penny Maine squealed. This was coming after a rambling statement about how she had been so worried after Shiloh had missed her texts, but then Benny had messaged her and said that he had just dropped her and Tony off at Tony’s apartment, and now Shiloh was coming downstairs in his shirt and underwear. Figuring that Penny Maine deserved all the details after sitting by her as she pined over Tony for all these years, Shiloh told her everything. Every detail.

“But you’re missing something,” Penny Maine insisted. “Come on, Shiloh, don’t be modest. You can tell me everything.”

“I did tell you everything,” Shiloh said, confused.

“Not everything. What about the kiss? Or what happened before you shared his bed?”

Shiloh paused for a minute, thinking.

“We didn’t kiss,” she said slowly, surprising herself. “And we obviously didn’t have sex. Where would we have done it? The beach? His bedroom at three in the morning?”

“What?” Penny Maine whined, pouting dramatically. “You didn’t even kiss?”

“We tried, but we were laughing too hard,” Shiloh said defensively. 

“That doesn’t count and you know it.”

“A for effort?” 

“F for failure. I’m so disappointed.”

Shiloh smiled softly, shaking her head. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

[chaos-weekly]

Indy,

There’s a certain kind of sadness that’s addictive. Dante spoke of this sorrow when he wrote, “There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy.”

Indy you made me the happiest man alive, even when you left. You left and you stayed safe.

I’m sorry to drag you back into this. I’m sorry I got us all into this mess. I shouldn’t have dealt with the cops how I did, even if I fed fake or manipulated information to them. You deserve so much better than what I could ever give you, Indigo Blue.

I love you. I’ve loved you for years, it just took Ginny dying and you leaving for me to realize. You’re incredible, passionate, fiery, and you beat me at everything we ever did. I love that about you.

That’s why I had to involve you in this. Not because I love you but why I love you. You are what the world needs to change this system. You are the only one fierce enough to make this happen. With you, Micah, and Thorn (please make sure they end up together and make angsty but happy babies) at the reins, I know you guys can take this thing down.

I love you, Indigo Blue. I just wish I could have loved you even more.

Dante

Mikey,

I’m so sorry to leave, Mikey. I know we promised each other forever after Ginny, but I didn’t plan on this. I f—ked up. Clearly. But I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, and I didn’t know another way to get myself out.

I love you so much. We didn’t say that enough before Ginny, and even after, it wasn’t enough to last forever. I love you.

I’m sorry to involve you in my mess, but the others need your help. You’re reliably happy, painfully so, and optimistic. Thorn is a grumpy brat and Indy is so focused and realistic. They need you to balance them and bring them back to reality, just like you always did for Ginny and me.

Please give Thorn a chance and also marry him. I’ve wanted to introduce you two for years, but I guess it took me dying for that to happen.

Love you, Atticus,

Donny

Thorn,

Please don’t revive me just to kill me again. I know I messed up. I know I put you and your brothers in danger. I know I screwed everyone over. But that’s what I’m trying to fix. Or rather, what I’m trying to have y’all fix. Sorry.

Long story short, Magnus Black cornered me and threatened me if I didn’t spy on your club for him. I didn’t give him factual or complete information every time. I told him lies, half truths, and vague nothings. He only knows so much, but I think it’s more than I meant to give. Mostly he knows about the weed and where we met up to hand it off.

When I found out about Magnus and Roy’s plans to kill the bikers, I knew I had to get out. But they caught me—clearly—and I don’t want them to catch you, too. You don’t deserve to die and neither does your family or your brothers.

I’ve left notes and thumb drives and s—t across town with trusted people and in trusted places. You’ll all have to work together to get everything.

Don’t trust anyone, no matter how kind and caring they seem.

Also, here’s Micah’s number. I think she’s just your type.

Dante

[chaos-weekly]

December 2018

Indy had lost track of time at the annual Winter Festival. It was worth it to spend hours upon hours admiring handmade snow globes and drinking mug after mug of warm hot chocolate, but she was shutting the place down without the friends she had originally come with. It was dark, she was alone, and, when she checked her watch, she knew her parents would already be in bed. With a sigh, Indy resigned herself to walking home alone and praying no one kidnapped her.

But Dante’s stupid smirk made her stop in her tracks and scowl. What did he think he was doing looking at her like that? Their little rivalry was long since over. It had been over since she’d gone off to the University of North Carolina and he’d stayed and gone to a local college. High school academics dimmed in comparison to their future college achievements, and she just knew hers would be bigger and better than his. Her near perfect GPA only solidified that.

“What?” she asked sarcastically, walking past him with no plan on stopping. “Keep your eyes to yourself, Alighieri.”

“No thanks,” he replied, falling into step with her. “You know, you got pretty hot while you were at college.” Indy rolled her eyes.

“You’re a pig.”

“Would a pig offer to walk you home?”

“Are you offering?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, a pig would offer to walk me home. And no, I’m fine to walk myself home.”

“Oh come on,” Dante said, rolling his eyes. “It’s almost midnight, Indigo. And Salemsville can’t lose its bright, shining star during the Winter Festival. Think about it. The festival would be tainted forever.”

“Fine,” she sighed, resigning herself to the fact that Dante wouldn’t take no for an answer. “But just so you know, I would have been fine without you.”

“But better with?”

“I never said that.”

He shrugged, a familiar sparkle in his eyes. He looked the way he did when he did better on a test or answered a question correctly before Indy could even stick her hand up. He knew just how to push her buttons and enjoyed doing it. It wasn’t even like he did it maliciously. He just did it. He couldn’t not. It was a Dante thing.

They walked in familiar silence for a moment. There weren’t too many things to say. Indy and Dante weren’t friends. While they were academic rivals, they weren’t enemies. They just didn’t have much in common. In fact, they lived completely opposite lives. Indy lived a cookie cutter small town life— two normal parents, siblings who weren’t off the rails, financially comfortable, and was a fairly successful and well-loved college student. Dante was bright and probably doing well in school, but he was also the town drug dealer, had parents who had fallen into the deep end of the crazy pool, two quirky sisters (who Indy, albeit, adored), and she honestly didn’t know how they paid the bills.

When you lived in a small town, you knew everything about everyone, but Indy was starting to recognize she didn’t know the first thing about the boy she’d competed against for years. And she felt guilty about that.

“How’s college?” she asked, just as he said, “Sleeping with a lot of boys at UNC?” He looked surprised by her question, but his expression quickly turned to shock as she slapped his arm in a manner that was the opposite of playful.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, rubbing his bicep. “Jesus, no need to be bitter about not getting any d-ck.”

Indy made a face.

“I’m getting plenty, thank you, but that’s none of your business.”

“No boyfriend?” She was not getting into any details of her love life. Not with Dante.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she retorted, staring him down as she awaited his response.

“Touché. Okay, since you so kindly answered my question, I’ll answer yours. College is fine. I’ve made a few friends. Classes are hard. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss being in classes with you.” Dante looked over at her as Indy looked up at him. The confusion on her face was clear, but she didn’t say anything.

She didn’t need to. Dante began to elaborate.

“I don’t know, Indy. I mean, doing better than you was really the only reason I actually tried in school. Having someone to compete against motivated me to actually do work. You drove me crazy.” His voice got soft. “You still do.”

Indy swallowed. She understood how the competition could help him, but she didn’t think he was still talking about that.

“You don’t feel the same way,” he stated, nodding like he saw this coming.

“I mean, it drove me crazy how d-mn smart you were without lifting a finger. I didn’t understand how I could work so hard and you could barely lift a finger and do better than me. The competition was good. It made me better. But you’re the fastest fish in the tank now, Dante. I’m not. There’s always going to be someone smarter or better than me, that pisses me off. So that’s why I keep working. You’ve gotta find a new reason to keep working.”

“I don’t know if I want to find a new one,” Dante said, clearly embarrassed.

“Then transfer,” Indy said. This statement surprised both of them. After a moment, he just shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you don’t want to?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Dante, you’re smart enough to get in to UNC. You were in high school, and I’m sure you are now. And they’ve got scholarships and—“

“Ginny has cancer, Indy,” he blurted out. They were in front of her house now, and they stopped at the end of her driveway.

“What?” she asked. Her heart was pounding. Ginny had cancer?

“It’s why I didn’t go away in the first place. She doesn’t have long left. I didn’t want to miss time with her if I didn’t have to. That’s why I’m doing college here.”

They stood in silence, his eyes on the ground and hers wide and staring at him. She couldn’t believe it. Ginny had cancer. Ginny was dying. Dante had been going through this alone, and she’d just been focused on getting better grades than him.

“Dante, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Was she supposed to hug him? Put a hand on his arm? This was unfamiliar territory for them. She decided against touching him.

“It’s fine,” he replied, finally looking up at her.

“It’s not fine,” she said. Indy shook her head. “It’s not fine at all.”

“I know. It’s just easier to say it is.”

“You don’t have to give me quick and easy answers.”

“So you prefer things hard and slow. Good to know.” There was a smirk on his face. She rolled her eyes.

“It doesn’t really seem like an appropriate moment to talk about sex.”

He sighed, taking a step closer to her and gently grabbed her arms, his long fingers curling around her biceps. Indy looked up and into his eyes, aware that this was the first time she’d actually looked at him as a complex person. It was his eyes that made him real to her, so dark she couldn’t see his pupils and dark circles that were probably permanent.

“I’m going to be okay, Indigo.”

Fifteen minutes ago, she would have told him she didn’t care about him, not like that. Now, all she could do was nod and take a step backward.

“I hope so, Dante.”

“Me too.”

“I’ve gotta go,” she whispered, nodding towards the front door.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.” She turned around and walked towards her door, aware that he was still standing by the mailbox, watching her walk away.

“Wait!” he said, taking a bold step forward. “What’s your GPA? For old times sake.”

Indy grinned. That was the Dante she knew.

“3.75,” she said. She shrugged casually, but there was no hiding the hint of pride in her voice.

“Oh yeah?” he said, that competitive smirk back. “I’ve got a 4.0.”

Indy scowled.

“Liar.”

“I’m not, I swear. I’ll show you. Let me log in on your laptop.” She didn’t think twice before waving him up. Dante Alighieri was about to step foot into her home.

“My parents are sleeping,” she whispered, leading him upstairs to her room.

“I’ll keep it quiet.”

Her room was the only one on the second floor that someone still slept in. Her parents were on the first floor and her younger brother stayed in the basement. Her oldest brother wasn’t home from college yet. Indy flicked on the lights and sat on the edge of her bed, opening her laptop and passing it to him. Dante logged in to his school portal, pulled up his GPA, and…

3.6

“You lied!” Laughter shook her body and spilled out from her lips. Dante was smiling too.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said, shutting the laptop. “I didn’t think you’d actually make me show you.”

“Um, of course I was. Do you think I believe a word you say?”

“Fair enough.” He was laughing now, smiling like she’d never seen him smile before.

“And with that, I will continue to wear the crown of the smartest person to exist.” Indy adjusted an imaginary crown on her head. “Being a genius is such a heavy burden to bear. Not that you’d know what that’s like.”

“No need to rub it in,” he grumbled, giving her a push that sent her falling back into her pillows, giggling. She pulled him down with her, and before she recognized what was happening, they were kissing. Dante was between her legs, hands tracing every curve her body offered. Her hands were in his hair, but they fell above her head softly as his lips trailed down her neck. His hands slid under her sweater. They were cold against her warm skin, and she let out an involuntary moan as they slipped under her bra, traced the underside of her chest, and pulled out again.

“Dante,” she whispered, her hands finding his head and gently pulling it up towards her. She kissed him hard, but after a few passionate moments she pushed him back and sat up.

“Indy,” he begged, trying to get to her lips again. But she shook her head and stood up, slipping out of bed and moving towards the door. Dante sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, preparing himself. But instead of opening it and forcing him out, her fingers twisted the lock. Indy could feel his smile before she even turned around. She made her way back to bed and stood in front of him, taking his hands and guiding them to the hem of her sweater.

“Do you mind helping me out of this?” she asked, a smirk of her own now on her lips. He shook his head quickly, stood up, and tugged it over her head. Tossing the garment to the side, he picked her up and pushed her against an empty wall. Indy wrapped her legs around his wait, preparing herself for a side of Dante she’d never seen but now desperately needed.

“Did I ever say you drive me crazy?” he asked, staring right into her eyes as she nodded. “This is a whole new kind of crazy.”

“Good,” Indy said. “Now, please shut up and kiss me.”

[chaos-weekly]

wraparound porch

When someone in Salemsville died, half of the town came to the funeral. Everyone was connected somehow. If someone didn’t show up, they stuck out like a sore thumb. It stirred up drama.

About forty people showed up to Dante’s funeral: the surviving Alighieri family, Indy and the members of the Davis family who still lived in town, Magnus Black and his family, Zion (who sat alone on the opposite side of the aisle as the black family), friends of his Indy recognized the faces’ of, people she assumed were friends and had never met, old teachers, a few neighbors, a woman named Reina who couldn’t stop staring hateful at her, three cops, and a girl Indy assumed was a journalist based off of the notepad she was scribbling in. The rest of the attendees were bikers. Each one of them looked like they would rather be anywhere else-- like the church made them uncomfortable-- except for an oddly somber Thorn. 

If someone asked Indigo to tell them anything about the service, she wouldn’t be able to tell them much. It was short and sweet. There was no luncheon after; her younger brother had complained about that. It was a closed-casket, not that it mattered much to her since she’d already seen his body. Micah gave an eulogy that she cried reading and Indy cried listening to. 

She could also tell you how she felt like everyone was looking at each other and judging them. They were looking for answers, or rather someone to blame, but they wouldn’t get them. Not with the cops whispering loudly to each other about the evidence pointing to suicide. Not with all of the answers being on the flash drive Indy told Thorn to guard with his life. No, the answers were out of reach for them. So they’d turn to the gossip mill.

Indy slipped out to the church’s wrap-around porch during the old church hymns at the end. Dante used to write blasphemous replacement lyrics when he was coming down from his highs. The preacher today had said that he was an angel in heaven now, singing in the choir. And sure, Indy hoped he was in a better place, but she could only picture him in black robes scream-singing “Amazing Hate.” 

She leaned against the railing, eyes glazed over staring at the town in front of her. There were a million thoughts and feelings running through her head, but it was hard to process them in a setting that was supposed to celebrate his life and was doing so in a way that made him unrecognizable. The Dante she knew was a hurricane on legs, a disaster and a half. He always knew where he was going but never how to get there. He was brilliant and wild and didn’t care what other people thought about him. The way his mind worked was so beautiful, and she was so lucky to have been able to see it so intimately. She was lucky to have been able to see him so intimately.

God, he’d loved her. 

The pick-up in the beating of her heart let Indy know that this appeared to be the root of all of the feelings she was having. Sighing frustratedly, she walked blindly to the rocking chairs and plopped down.

“Want a smoke?” someone offered after a moment. Indy jumped, eyes refocusing on her surroundings to see Thorn sitting in the rocking chair next to her and holding out a mostly empty pack of cigarettes. She pulled the pack from his hands and threw it over the railing.

“That is so bad for you. Cut that sh-t out,” she muttered, getting a shrug in return. “How long have you been out here?”

“Long enough for you to toss my cigs,” he replied. He didn’t sound annoyed in the slightest.

“Which was how long?”

“I left mid-eulogy.”

So he’d seen her out on the porch from the minute she’d walked out and hadn’t said anything. Great. It was a good thing that Indy was too tired to be embarrassed.

They sat in complete silence, just rocking back and forth. They were still rocking as people left, passing right by them. Indy’s mom stopped for a second to ask if she was coming to lunch, but Indy just shook her head. She’d make her way home later.

Everyone was pretty much gone when Thorn finally asked:

“How’re you feeling?”

How was she feeling? The question made her laugh dryly. 

“Guilty,” she admitted. There was no follow-up to that, they just rested in the weight of her honesty. It was heavy.

“He told me he was into some deep water before I left for college and I didn’t do anything about it,” Indy began.

“And you feel guilty for not asking any questions?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to help him. I mean, I encouraged him to leave town, but the only other thing I can think that I could’ve done knowing the information I did was go to the cops, and that would’ve been a nightmare for obvious reasons.”

Again, there was no follow-up, but it was like Indy could feel his unspoken question hanging in the air. 

“He was in love with me,” she admitted quietly. “We were hooking up. Whenever I was home. And then this past summer it kind of somersaulted into some semi-dating thing. Come the beginning of August, he wanted to go and put a label on us. He told me he loved me. I just didn’t feel the same way and didn’t think I ever would.”

His eyes had never left her face. Thorn had listened to every single word she said. Indy didn’t know if anyone, much less a man, had ever been this invested in the emotions she had to share.

“So you feel guilty because you didn’t love him back,” he said.

“Is that stupid? Because I should’ve. Aside from the drugs and the informant business, he was a great guy. If he’d made it out of here, he would’ve pretty much been perfect.”

“Any reason you have for not loving someone is a good reason. If you have to search for one, you probably don’t love them.”

“Yeah, but the drugs and stuff weren’t permanent. I could’ve worked on that with him--”

“Love isn’t a project, Indy.” His eyes were peering into her soul. She swallowed hard. Her nose burned like she could start crying again at any moment. Thorn may have seen the pink beginning to rise in her cheeks, because he leaned back in his seat and looked away from her for a moment.

“I know,” she whispered. “And to be honest, I hate fixing people.”

“You just stole my cigarettes from me and tossed them into the road,” Thorn replied teasingly. “But seriously, Indy, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You made the right decision.”

She nodded, sucking in a shaky breath. 

“You’re right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They returned to silence, staring at the town that had seemingly gone back to normal immediately after the funeral. How could they just carry on with their lives like this?

“I’ve got to get home,” Indy said, standing up after feeling her phone vibrate for the thousandth time. 

“Need a ride?” He stood up too, towering over her. She didn’t feel small next to him, though. It was probably because she wasn’t intimidated by him in the slightest.

“No, I think I’m just going to walk. But thanks for offering.”

“Sure,” he replied, shrugging. “And just to be clear, this conversation never happened.”

“Oh, of course not,” Indy replied. “I’d never talk to you about the kinds of things we just talked about.”

“Likewise.”

She was sure she saw the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile, but she chose to say nothing and give a soft smile in return.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, waiting for his signature nod before turning and walking towards home.

It would take a while to feel less guilty about not loving a man who definitely checked a lot of boxes on her imaginary Dream Man checklist, but this was a start.

[chaos-weekly]

carrot boy

It felt like a spaghetti night. Zion was pulling a saucepan and a knife out of his cabinets, setting them on the counter while he grabbed ingredients. He was in a fog. It was well past midnight, the guests in his tiny living room were hungry and exhausted, and they needed something warm and familiar in their stomachs. You didn’t need to be familiar with the food industry or cooking to come up with that, but fortunately for his three visitors, Zion was, even if he was just a good cook and not a professional chef. Even more fortunately, he always kept the ingredients for homemade pasta sauce on hand. It was a comfort food and ridiculously easy to make, which was perfect for evenings ranging from late nights after a shift at the bar or finding out that your brother-in-law recently murdered a twenty-one year old kid. 

Sure, Zion didn’t know for sure that it was Magnus who had killed Dante. But he definitely knew about it. He definitely sanctioned it. He was definitely guilty as h-ll. It was taking a lot of willpower to not run to Eden and tell her everything he’d learned in the past hour, but they needed to keep a low profile. It would be impossible to avenge Dante if they were dead.

What made this all even worse was that he was living in Magnus’s backyard in the mother-in-law suite he and Eden had built for his parents’ health went downhill. Zion had made Thorn park his bike a distance away and walk (which the man was clearly annoyed about, but only grunted in response), but he would certainly be suspicious of the fact that Micah Algheiri was at his house at one in the morning. Next time they’d have to meet somewhere else.

Next time. It felt odd saying that, but he was in this for the long haul now. If he wasn’t solving this with them… well, the incriminating photos on his phone would probably get him wrapped up in this in a more unfortunate manner.

Indy walked into the kitchen to refill her water glass, getting tap water straight from the sink, eyeing Zion as if she knew he had something to say. If he was going to tell anyone, it should be her. She was good with computers; she’d know what to do with the pictures.

“Earth to Zion,” she said, hoisting herself up onto the counter adjacent to him. “You look like you’re in outer space. What’s up?”

He looked over at her and then glanced into the living room. Thorn and Micah were engulfed in a rather uncomfortable silence. He didn’t want them to hear this. Scratch that— he didn’t want Micah to hear this. Thorn had heard, and seen, much worse. But if Micah knew what he had on his phone, what he’d done without so much as a second thought… that would destroy her. So, silently, he passed Indy his unlocked phone. She swallowed hard as she swiped through the photos, making him immediately regret his decision. Zion had forgotten that Dante had been more than just a friend to her. He reached to take his phone back instinctively, but she pulled back.

“It’s fine, Zion, I’m fine,” she said as if saying the words aloud would make them true. “This was a smart thing to do.” 

Zion appreciated her for not asking why. 

“I want them gone,” he whispered. “I can’t have them on any of my stuff, not if I’m living this close to Magnus.”  

“Yeah, sure. You can just email them--,” she began, only to be cut off by Zion hissing:

“I can’t f-cking email them, Indy. Do you really think that’s safe?”

“Well, God, do you think I know the first thing about any of this bullsh-t?” she snapped back, glancing over to see if anyone was watching in the living room, meeting Thorn’s eyes, and looking back at Zion angrily. “I have eighty percent of a computer science degree and zero experience hacking anything. I’m no expert. Not even close.”

“Well you figured out how to break that code. That was pretty impressive,” Zion said, instantly trying to backpedal when faced with her rage. He’d always been more a firefighter than a firestarter, but it appeared that his best efforts were failing miserably. 

“And I’m going to figure this out, too,” she stated firmly, unwavering in anger. “But Jesus, give me a break.” 

Thorn was in the doorway with Indy’s backpack and the flashdrive Dylan brought from Dante’s apartment. Sighing, she snatched both from his hands and made her way to the kitchen table to figure out an untraceable way to send messages.

“Smells good in here,” Thorn said, grabbing the spatula Zion had been using to stir the pasta sauce and giving it a careful stir. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, not in the mood for conversation.

“So what was on the phone?”

“Pictures I needed deleted.”

“D-ck pics or…?” 

“God, no,” Zion said loudly, shocked. He could see Micah look up from the book she was reading. His cheeks were pink. Thorn was chuckling, Micah had gone back to her book, and he swore he could hear Indy snickering from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, there better not be any on here. I don’t want to see that,” Indy replied, confirming his nightmare. 

“She’s a beer can girl anyway,” Thorn said confidently, clapping Zion’s shoulder and moving past him to open the fridge and pulling out a few bottles of locally brewed beer. “Speaking of-- who wants some of this hippie sh-t?” Indy put up her hand and he tossed her one.

“Who said I was a carrot?” Zion asked, questioning if he had explicit pictures in his camera roll. He grabbed a beer from Thorn’s hand, then moved to strain the pasta. Thorn shrugged in response.

“What’s going on in here?” Micah asked, plucking the last bottle from Thorn’s hand. Thorn moved to sit down at the kitchen table, eyes fixed on Indy’s clicking fingers.

“Zion’s got a carrot d-ck,” Indy told her, plugging away more rapidly at the keys, under pressure from her onlooker and the arrival of Micah. Micah looked thoughtful, then nodded. 

“I believe it,” she said, grinning teasingly at Zion. He groaned.

“Can we please go back to talking about how Indigo never denied that she’s a beer can girl?” he requested. 

“Oh, yes please,” Micah said, smirking.

“Yeah, whatever,” Indy said, waving a hand. “Beer can, carrot. It’s all the same.” 

“Oh?” Thorn asked, eyes moving from Indy’s fingers to her face. 

“Yep,” she said, looking up and directly at the man across from her. “Disappointing.”

Thorn just shook his head, but Zion and Micah were losing it in the kitchen. It had been a while since Zion had laughed this hard. It felt good. It felt good to laugh. And it felt good to have friends again.

“What’s happening over here?” Micah asked after a post-laugh sigh. She was moving towards them. 

“Routine maintenance,” Indy lied casually. “Zion got a bug on his phone and he asked if I could get it off.” She shut the lid of her laptop, grabbed the phone, and walked over to Zion.

“It’s fixed, stupid. Don’t make me do that again with such short notice.” Zion smiled at her gratefully. 

“Thanks, Indy,” he said. She just smiled and shrugged in return. 

And Micah didn’t know a thing. Some things were better off as secrets.

“I’m starving,” Micah announced. 

“Well I just finished, so load up,” Zion said, pulling plates and forks out. “It’s hot.”

And the rest of the evening progressed easily. They’d agreed not to look at the flashdrive tonight. It was too late. Instead, they just sat around the table and got to know each other. 

They’d be spending a lot of time together.

[chaos-weekly]

Micah looked at the note again, the translated version that had everything in English. Thorn had printed off a copy moments after Zion pledged his fealty. The man grunted and walked off, returning with the printer seconds later.

“Atticus couldn’t save Tom Robinson, but he could avenge him.” Micah studied the words, analyzing them. Donny always joked that she was as wise as Atticus. He was smart like Scout, but she was the wise one. Ginny had always been Dill. Now it seemed that Donny was Tom Robinson.

The system had slaughtered Tom, even if they didn’t do it themselves. Racism, judgment, xenophobia, ableism, and so many other horrible brands of hate had killed an innocent man. Except Dante wasn’t innocent. Micah knew he dealt weed to the biker gang. She knew he was also in league with some powerful people, but he’d never said more than that. On the few occasions he gave any details, it was when drunk. And when Dante was drunk he mostly talked about Indy.

But now Dante was dead, and he wanted Micah to bring him to justice. Except with the information shared in his note, he didn’t want justice. He wanted the system to change. He wanted the world to correct its misdeeds. And he wanted Micah to do that for him.

This wasn’t just about avenging her brother. This was about making sure it never happened again.

“Donny wants us to redo the system,” Micah said, voice weak and scratchy from all her crying. Zion pushed her sweetened, creamy coffee towards her. Usually, she’d offer him a smile in thanks, but all she managed was a brief moment of eye contact.

“How?” Thorn asked, leaning back in the booth with folded arms. He was gruff and grumpy, but he seemed to have taken an interest in Indy. Even now, his gaze constantly flickered back to Micah’s best friend.

“Bring it to the media. Undeniable, solid evidence. Videoed confessions. Recordings can be proven altered, but a video recording is much more difficult.” This came from Indy, who met Thorn’s gaze with a challenging stare. He stared back at her blankly, and Micah took the chance to glance at Zion, with his sharp cheekbones and sweet eyes.

“How well do you know your brother-in-law?” Micah asked. Zion gestured to her still ignored coffee cup, and so she took a sip. Her voice must have been bad.

“Better than I’d like to. Enough to know he’s not a good guy. Dirty cop at best. Hates bikers ‘cause of Jimmy and Eden. Hates most people. Always on a power trip.”

“We need to find out how Dante was involved with the cops,” Indy said, still staring Thorn down. He never looked away from her. While he studied her, she was challenging him to speak. Neither of them would win at this. They were both far too stubborn. Rather, Thorn was too stubborn, and Indy was too competitive.

“I’ll have Dylan bring the flash drive over,” Micah mumbled. She dialed her other best friend’s number and waited for him to pick up. Dylan was Dante’s roommate, but Dylan had always been closer to Micah than to Donny.

“Micah? Hey,” he greeted. Dylan’s tone was unusually gentle. Made sense, considering the circumstances. At least he didn’t ask about her condition.

“Dyl, Donny left a flash drive somewhere in his room. It’s probably the neon one he always used for important things. Bring it to Jimmy’s ASAP. We’ll wait here for you.”

“We? Who are you with? What’s going on? Why are you at Jimmy’s?” Micah hung up before he could ask more questions. Dylan always reminded her of Ginny, despite their many differences. She couldn’t handle another reminder of another dead sibling.

Another sob choked out of Micah’s throat, and Indy finally broke the intense eye contact to wrap her arms around her. Micah leaned into her friend’s touch and warmth, but it only gave so much comfort. There was only so much comfort to be found. Her siblings were dead, the cops had murdered Dante, and now Donny expected Micah to bring them to justice.

“Have y’all eaten yet?” Zion asked, looking among the group. They all shook their heads. Micah had lost her appetite before she’d heard the news. It hadn’t surfaced since then.

“I’m going to make us dinner. Once we have the flash drive, we’ll go to my apartment. I have a good wine selection that helps everything feel better.” Zion looked over to Micah; she saw no pity in his eyes. Concern, care, worry, but not pity or judgment. No, “Oh poor girl, half her family is dead.” Just genuine concern and care. Micah hadn’t seen someone look at her like that when she was upset since before Ginny got sick. It was strange how refreshing it felt.

“Okay,” Micah whimpered, sniffling and wiping her eyes on her damp hoodie sleeve. The sleeves were practically drenched now, but she didn’t have another jacket, and she got cold too easily to take it off.

////

Dylan entered Jimmy’s and walked over to the booth where the four of them sat. Micah scooted out and held her hand out for the flash drive. When Dylan put it in her hand wordlessly, he closed her hand and used it to pull her into a hug. As usual, his hands went dangerously low on her back, grazing the top of her butt. He’d also squished her chest against his. That was Dylan for you, though. He knew Micah would never see him as anything other than a friend, and he wasn’t going to push her on that, but he would like and prod the boundaries. Micah had given up scolding him for it long ago.

“Thanks,” she whispered, dropping her arms from around his waist. It took him a few more seconds to do the same, his hands grazing against her waist as he pulled away.

“Are you good, Mike?” Dylan looked at her like Zion did, except he did pity her. He had red eyes, too, and not just from crying. He and Dante got along well for more than one reason.

Micah shrugged and sat back down in the booth across from Zion.

“Bye, Dyl.” She handed the flash drive to Indy, not making eye contact with Dylan. Usually she’d laugh and push him away or slap his chest. Usually she’d threaten to tell Dante, who would surely try and beat Dylan up. It wouldn’t end well for either of them, since they’d break more objects than bones. But usually Dante was alive. Usually Donny was still there.

Zion took the top of Micah’s hand in his and squeezed it with a gentle smile. Again, Micah nodded in reply, her only way of thanking him.

“Go.” Thorn’s rough voice brought Micah back to reality. Dylan hadn’t left yet.

“Not until Mike’s okay,” Dylan insisted.

“She’s fine. Now leave,” Thorn growled, standing to his impressive height of six foot something. Micah knew her friend was only five foot ten. He was muscular, but the skinny kind of built. Thorn was tall and broad. He would shatter Dylan’s brain with one punch, more likely than not.

“I’m fine, Dyl,” Micah insisted in a shaky voice that made it very clear how fine she was not. Dylan didn’t move, so Thorn stepped closer. It took about five seconds for the front doors to close behind him.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Zion asked, earning Micah’s attention. She shook her head.

“Does he know that?”

“We’re not too sure,” Indy answered, saving Micah from having to delve into her complicated friendship with Dylan. When it was just the two of them, they broke down into fits of laughter or screamed at each other while playing video games. He made her happy and free again. And the flirting was kept to a minimum. Then, when they were around others, the flirting surpassed the minimum. It was like he was trying to claim her as his own. And now Dante wasn’t here to stand between them. Micah sniffled again.

“Okay, we’re going back to my apartment. Anyone need a ride?” Zion looked among the new friends, all shaking their head.

////

The drive over to Zion’s apartment was short. He lived in the cheaper end of town, but it wasn’t the sketchy part of town, either. Micah was the last to arrive, and she hurried up the steps to Zion’s apartment and through the open door.

“Here,” someone said. Micah looked up to see Zion holding a hoodie out for her.

“Yours is wet. Figured you might want a new one.”

This time, Micah almost grimaced in her efforts to smile. It was a sweet gesture, and it was progress to being okay. Or it was progress to faking being okay. Either way, it was good. Zion was good.

[chaos-weekly]

“You know,” Didi said, sidling up to Nollie in the otherwise empty kitchen. “Jude and I never did pick a guy for you to go on a date with. You did lose the bet.” Mischief glimmered in her dark eyes, and Didi knew Nollie’s blush was about to resurface.

“Okay, who are you thinking?” she asked slowly.

“Well, it just so happens that JJ woke up around four thirty in the morning because he heard people talking. And it just so happens that he saw you and a certain tattooed bad boy kiss.”

Yeah, there was the blush. And a peaceful smile.

“So what all went down, Nollie? ‘Cause clearly something did. I’m your best friend and I demand all the details.”

Nollie rolled her eyes and turned the stove off, pulling the pan of scrambled eggs off the heat.

“We talked. He apologized. I told him he was forgiven months ago. We came to an understanding. And he’s gonna come back in about a month—“

“To f—ing rail you. Those were your exact words, weren’t they, Nols?” London entered the kitchen. Didi turned to look at him, but he wasn’t smirking like he used to. He was smiling. A proper, boyish grin, complete with shining eyes. Didi knew that London had grown up a lot. She’d kept in touch with Bishop, and he’d given her the occasional update. London grew up and matured a lot, apparently. Didi could see that, even by his smile.

“Words you should have said when I wasn’t trying to sleep.” This came from JJ, who entered after taking a shower and using all the hair products. Didi loved him, and his hair, but his routine was more intense than hers was. And hers included make up. But no, JJ had the best hair ever and that meant every hair product imaginable.

“You had your own hotel room,” Nollie retorted dryly.

“Okay, and? I’m not gonna see you much, from the sounds of it, so I’m hogging all your attention. Except for the date you and London are going on, you’re spending all your spare time with me.” Didi didn’t give Nollie a choice. This was her best friend and she was going through withdrawals. If this was what having her best friend move out felt like, she was not looking forward to Arsenic’s upcoming world tour. Yeah, Didi would be flying out to as many concerts as she could. And yeah, there was FaceTime and phone calls and texts, but it wasn’t the same as having JJ’s arms around her or having his curls tickling her neck when they cuddled.

“A date, huh?” Now London’s smirk has resurfaced, but it was no longer cocky or presumptuous. This was playful. Didi knew she had liked London more than Langston for a reason. Even if he was trash for a long while there.

“Nollie lost a bet about when Jude and I would finally have sex,” Didi explained, leaning into JJ when he wrapped his arms around her slim frame.

“Yeah, I lost the bet by two days. Xander will never let me live this down. You know that, right?”

“Xander isn’t who you have to worry about,” JJ pointed out. Didi could hear the wicked grin in his southern voice. His accent was too freaking sexy. Nollie wasn’t the only one who needed railed.

“Well, if it means I get more time with you, I think this worked out great,” London said, standing on Nollie’s other side. He stood close to her, but he didn’t initiate contact. Interesting. He was letting her set all the rules. Yeah, he really was a changed man.

“I’m not upset about going on a date with you. I’m upset that I lost something to these two,” Nollie clarified, bumping her hip against London’s. Didi was pretty sure his eyes glowed with happiness at the innocent touch.

“Enough cuteness. Can we have the eggs now?” Didi yawned, already searching through the cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware. She paused when she found the utensils.

“Jude?” Didi said slowly.

“Yeah, sweet thang?” She could hear him smirking as she picked up the spoon. The spoon he borrowed after the first ice cream event and never gave back to her. The spoon he claimed to have misplaced. Didi never had believed him, and she’d finally found her missing silverware.

“Please tell me why you gave my spoon to Nollie and not back to me.”

“You much prefer the other spoons I give you.” And to antagonize her. JJ didn’t say that, but everyone understood it. Sure, they’d finally admitted their love for each other and were comfortable and happy and affectionate, but JJ would never turn down an opportunity to tease Didi.

“I want both!” she exclaimed in frustration, spinning around to face her tall, smirking boyfriend.

“Too bad, Princess.” So she was being bratty again. Too bad, because this was nothing compared to what she could be like. JJ had seen just about every side of her, but he had never seen her go full high school queen bee mean girl spoiled brat. Didi was pigeonholed into that archetype for roles for a reason; she embodied it perfectly.

“I’m keeping that spoon, peasant,” Nollie said, plucking the utensil from Didi’s grasp.

“It’s mine!”

“Not anymore. If you want a spoon go get one from your man.”

Didi spun back to face JJ. “Jude? Please?” She knew he was a sucker for when she used his real name. That combined with a gentle bite on her lower lip could really get him to cooperate. Not because it worked to lower his defenses, but because he was a kind person.

“Please what? Please you? ‘Cause I’ll do it, but not ‘til we’re back at the hotel.”

Didi perked up. “I’m holding you to that, baby.” Now JJ was the smirking one.

“Food’s ready!” Nollie announced, cutting in before Didi got too excited about certain bedroom activities. And before Nollie could get any more ideas.

Didi wasn’t so sure she was hungry for just breakfast anymore.

[chaos-weekly]

just some closure

Her days in New York City were coming to an end. This sucked for two reasons: one, Nollie was starting to love NYC, and two, she was soon going to be back in Los Angeles with an ex she still thought about regularly.

It had been three months since she’d ended things with London, completely blindsiding him and shattering both of their hearts in the process. She loved him, and she still did, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that their relationship had been founded on a lie that Nollie couldn’t overlook. He’d started their relationship to break her dry spell, and once he’d broken it, he couldn’t seem to get enough. The more she thought about it and processed it through with her therapist, Nollie could see a lot of her old self in him: two insecure individuals who found their meaning and value in relationships through sex. 

Even though their relationship had been built on dishonesty, Nollie didn’t hate London. How could she? He was just as broken as she was, and she wouldn’t and couldn’t fault him for that. He’d done a terrible thing, but that didn’t make him a terrible person. Besides, London had been the one to break Nollie’s negative relationship with intimacy. He’d shown her that sex wasn’t a tabboo thing and that she was able to do whatever she wanted with her body with whomever she wanted to do it with. There was so much freedom in that.

Coming to NYC after their breakup was exactly what she needed. She was starting to feel like herself, and not the version of herself she was with London or before London or really any other time. For the first time in her life, Magnolia was Magnolia. She had never felt better. She was funny and kind and outgoing, she made friends easily, and she loved big. She was spontaneous, she enjoyed trying new foods, she would never turn down a good time. She liked flirting with guys and dancing with them, and she didn’t mind the occasional one night stand. Nollie hadn’t felt this good ever. 

She had also reconnected with Langston in New York. Part of her hand always felt like he was the one who got away, even if they’d gone their separate ways for a good reason. They had gone on a few dates, kissed, had sex. And even though those had been good times, the spark that they’d previously had wasn’t there. They resigned themselves to just being friends, and Nollie was fine with it. 

This weekend, a bunch of her friends from LA were flying in to celebrate Langston’s birthday. Nollie knew this meant she would have to see London, but she didn’t harbor any ill-will towards him. She hoped that their breakup had allowed him to grow into the person she’d always seen him as. Even if it would be awkward to be face-to-face with a man she still cared deeply for, that was life, and Nollie was learning to embrace every minute of it.

///

Their little group of LA friends decided to get a limo to pick every person up from their apartment or hotel and drive them to the club where they were celebrating Langston’s birthday. Nollie lived in the same apartment complex as him, so the pair was picked up last and together. She could hear the music blaring from inside the limo as soon as it was in sight, and when the doors flung open, loud screams escorted them inside the vehicle. She and Langston took the last two available seats, squished between the door and Esther and Bishop and across from Xander and a slightly pregnant Imogen. Didi was squeezed in next to Xander, and JJ was manspreading in the back seat with London. 

“Fancy seeing you all here,” Bishop teased, earning a grin from the limo’s newest arrivals. “I’ve missed you two so much.”

“Bish, you were just here two weeks ago,” Langston said. Bishop and Esther had been making rather frequent visits to New York City to visit museums and meet with artists and collectors. The MAP had really taken off since Bishop’s exhibit, and now they were both in high demand. 

“Does that mean I can’t miss two of my best friends?” he whined, giving a fake pout. “Two weeks is too long.”

“But Nollie’s going to be back in LA soon,” Didi offered up, maybe a little too anxiously. “Right, Nollie?”

The girl laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted cautiously, immediately receiving playful boos from (mostly) everyone in the limo. “Hey! I really love it here. And the agency offered me a permanent contract. I’ve still got a week to make up my mind.”

“Just a week?” Didi whined, taking over Bishop’s role as the resident Drama Queen. “That’s not long enough at all.”

“That’s so exciting, Nollie,” Esther said encouragingly. “I know that you’ll be amazing wherever you go.”

Nollie smiled, eyes flickering over everyone in the vehicle and resting gently on London.

“I’m still thinking about it.”

///

There were five people passed out in Nollie’s apartment, and she, lucky number six, was still wide awake at the prime time of four thirty in the morning. Save Imogen and Xander, who left at a decent time because they were responsible adults and almost parents now, the entire LA crew had come back to crash at her place instead of finding their way to their hotel rooms. She didn’t mind, but she wished she was at least able to sleep.

London was in what seemed to be the most uncomfortable position ever in an oversized armchair. He had no blanket, kept shifting around, and he seemed to be muttering something in his sleep. Earlier in the evening, both tipsy at the club, they’d shared a dance, his hands grabbing her hips in a way that made her think back to the time they’d made out in the spare room at Xander’s party. He’d buried his face in the crook of her neck, she’d pressed her body against his, and they’d moved in a way that could have convinced a drunker Nollie that it would be worth it to go home with him. 

It had been three months, she’d slept with numerous men, but her body still ached for London.

And she was finding that her heart did, too. He was confident instead of cocky, bold instead of brazen. It was now obvious that he cared about others and listened to what they had to say. He’d grown from an overgrown frat boy into a man. 

Maybe their breakup had been good for him after all.

He stirred in his sleep, and Nollie made her way over quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder to wake him up.

“Hey,” she said softly, waiting patiently for his eyes to open. “Let’s move you somewhere more comfy, okay?” He nodded groggily, pushing himself to his feet and following Nollie into her bedroom. She’d previously declared the space off limits, but she could make exceptions at her own discretion. Without even questioning it, he crawled under her covers. She sat on the edge of the bed beside him, brushing pizza crumbs off of his forehead (how did they get there?). 

“I feel like sh-t,” he muttered, looking at her with half-awake eyes. 

“You had a lot to drink, London.”

“About us, Nols,” he replied, pushing himself into a sitting position, likely against his better judgement. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. You were right about everything.” She was silent. Nollie had to look away from him. She just couldn’t handle seeing his face. 

“You made me a better man when we were together, but for some reason, I think you ending it has made me better still. When we first broke up, I blamed you, I won’t lie. I was angry with you and with myself, and I couldn’t understand why you had to go and end something so good. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that what we had wasn’t good, because it’s impossible to be good if there’s dishonesty and miscommunication. I wasn’t open and honest with you, and I have no one to blame but myself for things ending.” London sighed. “Please look at me, Nols. Please just look at me.”

And she did, her eyes watering and her teeth biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from spilling over.

“I’m sorry, Magnolia. And I want you to know that even though you probably hate me and will never forgive me-- and that’s okay-- but… I still love you. I always will.”

“I don’t hate you,” she replied softly, a tiny tear trickling down her cheek. She brushed it off quickly, sucking in a deep breath. “And I’ve already forgiven you. Months ago.” It looked like a huge weight had been lifted off of London’s chest.

“Thank you. I don’t deserve that.”

“That isn’t true, London. You are not a horrible person. All I’ve been able to think about these past few months, at least in terms of our relationship, is that I want you to see yourself the way I see you. You’ve always seen yourself as a bad guy, and you’re not. You are kind, you genuinely care about people. You’re confident and strong-willed and determined. You want to give others everything. You are a great man, London.”

He was crying now. It was the second time she’d ever seen him cry. Nollie reached a hand up to brush the tears away, her palm cupping his cheek and her thumb stroking it softly.

“I love you,” he whispered again.

“I love you, too,” she replied just as quietly. “But things can’t be the same. You know that as well as I do.”

“They can’t be,” he agreed. “But they won’t be. We’re two new people. We’re starting over, starting fresh.”

“I’m staying in New York, London.”

“And my business needs to expand. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

They stared at each other for a few moments before she pulled his lips to hers in a sweet kiss. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. What she’d thought was impossible was actually becoming a reality. 

“I’ll be back in a month for you,” he murmured against her lips. “And I’m never letting you go again.”

“Please hurry back,” she replied. “Because as soon as you’re back in New York, I’m going to need you to f-cking rail me.”

[chaos-weekly]

code breaker

Indy wasn’t planning on answering Zion’s call, but it was too strange that he was calling at 12:30am the night Dante died. Unless he knew Dante (which was unlikely), something was up and she was going to find out what it was. 

When she answered, there were no pleasantries, just: “Indy, thank God you’re up. Grab your laptop and get to Jimmy’s now.” She didn’t bother questioning it or asking for more information, she just said she’d be there soon and went inside to grab her things. 

She arrived at the bar minutes later, backpack slung over her shoulder and eyes only slightly red. The open sign was off, but she could see Zion and some tall biker guy behind the bar, each pouring themselves another drink. Indigo took a deep breath before entering to compose herself. It was okay to be sad, but if this was about the weird circumstances surrounding Dante’s death, and she hoped it was, then she needed to pull herself together to fully function. 

“Hey,” she said as she entered the bar, using a voice that was more confident than she felt. 

“That was fast,” Zion said, surprised. “I was expecting you to be a little longer.”

“Yeah, well, the streets are empty.”

“Right.”

There was a bit of awkward silence. Zion didn’t seem to want to broach the actual topic of why he’d called her, but his companion didn’t seem to be in any hurry to talk. But she needed someone to talk and fast. Otherwise, she’d start to think about how Dante spent a lot of time here and how he’d never walk through the doors again. 

Again, she was pathetic.

“Look, this is going to sound crazy, but Dante left this note and we think you’re the one who’s supposed to decode it,” Zion said. He handed her a little sheet of paper, a note addressed to someone named Thorn, and she unfolded it. There was a reference about To Kill A Mockingbird at the top of the note followed by a sequence of binary. Indy swallowed. It was written in Dante’s almost illegible handwriting. It was definitely a note, and when she took a second to read the part in English, a frown spread deep across her lips.

“It’s an insurance policy,” she muttered, slipping off her backpack and putting it on top of the bar. She looked up at the two men in front of her, eyes scanning their faces and focusing in on the unfamiliar one. “You’re Thorn?” He nodded in response. It was the dumbest name she’d ever heard. 

“Figures.” Thorn looked as if this comment was new to him. “I can decode this, but so can anyone else. It’s literally just binary. Ones and zeroes. There are translators online.”

“But you’ll do it?” Thorn asked, surprising Indigo. His voice was just as gruff as she imagined it would be. 

“Yeah, but I’ve got to make a phone call first. I hope y’all have room for one more.”

“Who?” Thorn asked, immediately on edge.

“Dante’s sister,” Indy fired back. 

“We have room,” Zion said, eager to ease tensions. “And Indy… I’m really sorry about Dante.”

She gave a nod, swallowed, and stepped outside. 

Micah didn’t deserve to be roped into this disaster. No, she should have been sitting on the sidelines, allowed to just experience her grief and pain in solitude without the knowledge that her brother was planning on being murdered. But Dante was pulling her in from beyond the grave. He wanted her to know whatever was in this insurance policy. Indy felt like she owed it to him to at least give him that.

She called Micah five times before she picked up, and when her friend answered, the line was silent.

“Mikey?” Indy asked quietly, waiting for some indication of life.

“Indy,” Micah said, her voice shaky and quiet. “You heard?”

“I was at the festival.” There was a moment of silence, and Indigo fought back tears. “I’m so sorry, Micah. I’m so sorry.” She could hear Micah crying on the other end. It broke her heart into two. She couldn’t imagine losing a sibling, much less two. Micah was stronger than she’d ever be.

“Mikey, he left a note. It’s some kind of insurance policy. And he called you Atticus. He wants you to avenge him.” There was silence on the other end.

“What?” Micah asked. “An insurance policy? Why would Dante need insurance?” Indigo sighed.

“He told me a few months ago that he was involved in shady stuff and that he wanted to skip town. And he called me Thursday saying he was finally going to do it and that he wanted to see me one more time before he disappeared.”

“What?”

“It’s a lot, Micah. But look, I’m at Jimmy’s with some biker guy named Thorn and another friend. The rest of the note is in binary, and they want me to decode it. I’m going to hang out here until you come. You should be there when I get it.”

“Yeah,” Micah said, a rustling sound from the other line indicating movement. “Yeah, I’m on my way now. See you soon.”

The call ended and Indy headed back inside. She took a seat at the bar, and someone had made her a glass of water with a little lemon perched perfectly on the edge. 

“This is very pretty, Zion,” Indy said, opening her laptop up and pulling out a binary translator. 

“It was Thorn, actually,” he replied, nodding at the other man. Thorn was leaning against the back of the bar, arms crossed. His eyes were focused intently on her, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re freaking me out, dude,” Indy told him. He simply grunted and looked away. He was like a caveman. 

Indy typed the binary from Dante’s note into a translator and clicked translate. It took a second to load, but when it did, the translation made no sense. She frowned, and Zion moved from behind the bar to look at her screen. 

“I thought you said it was a simple binary code,” he said, flustered. “Did he mess up?”

“No, Dante’s too smart to mess up,” Indigo muttered, staring at the note intently. “There’s some kind of code in the letters that came from the binary.”

“So you can’t get it,” Zion groaned. Indy looked up at him with a confident smirk.

“I never said that.”

“How long is it going to take?” Thorn asked. He’d moved from his position of being as far away from her as possible to leaning against the bar in front of her. And he was staring again.

“Considering I’ve never done this before, I’d put on some coffee,” she replied dryly. “You have beautiful eyes, by the way.” Thorn scowled, she raised her eyebrows as if daring him to reply, and he headed back towards the kitchen. 

The sound of the door opening made the two remaining in the room jump, but it was just Micah. She looked about as put together as Indy felt-- trying her hardest not to cry and having to settle for a perpetually quivering lip. Indy slipped off her barstool and made her way over to her friend, wrapping her arms around her as she sobbed into her sweatshirt. Thorn was already back with a pot of coffee by the time Micah pulled away, wiping her nose and eyes on the sleeve of her hoodie.

“Come sit next to me,” Indigo said softly. “I could use a friend who knows how to utilize the English language properly. Zion is freaked out and talking too quickly, and Thorn only responds with grunts.” This made Micah giggle, and she took the seat next to Indy’s at the bar. “Here’s the note. I thought you might want to read it.” Micah nodded and slipped from her chair to read the note in a booth on her own. Indy tried not to pay attention to the sobs and stared at her computer screen, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see Zion bringing her a cup of coffee. 

This was a challenging code. The most obvious key shifts hadn’t worked, and now she was having to think a little more creatively, which was hard to do with Thorn continually staring at her.

“Do you want to watch?” Indy finally asked. “If not, you’ve got to stop staring at me. Just because I can type fast doesn’t mean I’m some kind of superhuman.” He gave a shrug, as if he thought she might be an alien regardless, but moved around the bar and took a seat next to her. It was apparent that he had no idea what she was doing, but she didn’t expect him to. It felt like a small child was watching her work and it was somewhat endearing. 

“I don’t get computer stuff,” Thorn muttered, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to,” Indigo replied. “It’s not for everyone.” But she talked to him while she kept working, making small comments about why she was doing what she was doing or how she got to be such a fast typer. There wasn’t as much pressure to decode this message while explaining things to him. It just reminded her that if Dante could write this code with his limited knowledge, she could crack it with her wealth of knowledge.

Limited knowledge.

“I’m thinking too complex,” she said softly, her fingers hovering over the keys as she paused her typing. “Dante doesn’t know a thing about this crap.”

“Yeah. I’ve never heard him talk about letter code before.”

“Maybe the shift is actually in the binary,” Indy mused. “You’re not supposed to shift binary, but Dante wouldn’t know that. Or maybe he would and knew no one else would think about it.” She plugged in her binary to a program and applied a shift. 

The paragraph that appeared in front of her was in coherent English. Dante was a genius, just like she always knew he was.

“Micah, Zion,” she said, scanning the message. “You’re going to want to see this.” Micah practically ran over and Zion followed close behind. The four of them crowded around her screen to read the note:

Micah, Indy, and Thorn: The Salemsville Police are corrupt, and they’re the ones who killed me. They want to wipe out the biker gang entirely. I have the dirt on them you’ll need to take them down. It’s hidden all over town. The info is on a flashdrive in my apartment. Find it.

There was a long silence. Indigo wasn’t sure how to process this. She was a full-time college student with two hard majors and a million other things to do, and he wanted her to go on a treasure hunt that would lead to them dismantling the entire police force? It seemed insane. But she trusted Dante, and judging by the look of mild panic on Micah’s face and the one of stoney determination on Thorn’s, they did too.

“My name isn’t on the note, but you can count me in anyway,” Zion said, ending the silence. “I didn’t know Dante, but I’ll do it for Jimmy and Eden.”

So Jimmy, the president of the biker club, and Eden, Zion’s older sister and Sheriff Magnus’s wife, were having an affair after all. It made sense. 

The three others just nodded, and it was decided then and there: they were going to find that information and make sure the Salemsville Police Department paid for what they did to Dante.

[chaos-weekly]

Micah fell back against the wall, clutching her phone to her hollow shell of a chest. There used to be a heart there. Now it was a beating mass of broken promises and unhappy endings.

Ginny’s heart didn’t beat anymore. She’d succumbed to her cancer two years ago. Micah’s sweet baby sister, sixteen and never kissed. Sixteen forever now that was was dead.

And Dante. Oh, her genius little brother. The smart aleck brainiac with a penchant for love and w.eed. Her little brother, executed in the same fall festival she’d been tabling at earlier that night.

Her little siblings were dead. Micah’s two favorite people, both gone forever.

She heard her mother’s screeching sobs over the phone. Micah hadn’t hung up, still clutching the device against her aching, empty chest. She even heard her dad whimpering in between her mother’s anguished screams.

Donny was dead.

Ginny was dead.

Micah was the last surviving Alighieri child. She was the oldest, and at 23 she was the only living child. 21 and 16. Both gone forever. They were both so young, so good.

It wasn’t supposed to work like this. She was the oldest. She was supposed to die first, long after her parents went to the Earth. She was supposed to be the first sibling to die, since she was the oldest. Donny and Ginny were supposed to follow her example.

Now she’d be following theirs one day.

Micah’s only brother, only surviving sibling, was dead.

She wondered if in two years she’d follow. Make it a pattern. Only last so long. Her parents didn’t deserve to bury another child, or any children, but Micah couldn’t imagine going on without her little brother.

Dante was the most irritating human to walk alive. He was self-serving, wicked smart, and absolutely ridiculous. He loved to tease her. He always called her Mikey, which she pretended to hate. He antagonized her so much. With their busy parents, Micah and her siblings had always been close. Dad was a poet and English professor, and Mom had the bakery and speakeasy that ran on weekends. Their parents loved them so dearly, evidenced by her still shrieking mother, even if the screams had turned silent in a horse voice. Their parents loved them, and Micah and her siblings had always known that, but now they’d never be able to return the favor.

Only Micah could show her parents how important they were to their children. How impactful and inspiring and incredible.

Only Micah could do this, because Donny was dead.

When she’s first gotten the call, her instinct had been to laugh. That’s how Micah reacted to finding out about Ginny’s last breath. It never felt real. Two years later and it still didn’t feel quite real. Two years, and Micah still struggled to accept her baby sister was gone. How would she ever accept her second sibling was dead? How could she ever accept that? It felt like giving up on all their goals and dreams and hopes.

Leukemia, execution, Micah wondered what would do her in one day. She hoped it would be merciful. The leukemia hadn’t been, and Micah didn’t want to pull anyone through that with her.

At least Dante didn’t suffer. The police said there’d been no injuries, no self defense wounds, no scratches, even. A simple gunshot wound between his eyes. A hole in the back of his head. Blood everywhere.

Finally, Micah thought she might actually be crying. Her phone had gone quiet, so she or her dad must have hung up. The tears on her face, the moisture, said she was crying.

This wasn’t real.

This couldn’t be real.

Dante couldn’t be dead. He had graduation in just a few months. Then he was going to med school in the city. He already had been accepted. He’d been working on financial aid and loans to pay for it.

Dante would never be a doctor now. He’d never cure cancer in Ginny’s name. Dante was too dead to do that. Just like Ginny was too dead to ever have her first kiss.

Micah shriveled up against the wall even further, and when her phone buzzed with an incoming call, she sent it to voicemail without looking at it. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t handle the pity, the worry, the love. She couldn’t go through it again.

But it wasn’t like she had another option.

Tomorrow. Micah would cope with this tomorrow. Tonight she would sit against the wall, alone with her thoughts, and hope that tomorrow never actually came.

[chaos-weekly]

Thorn wasn’t quite sure how to react. Zion had come into the bar on his night off looking dazed, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“This is for you,” his coworker said, pushing forward a folded and crumpled piece of paper. His road name was scrawled on the front in Dante’s chicken scratch. Thorn had only ever seen it in communication for w.eed, but it was unmistakably messy.

Thorn raised an eyebrow at Zion, asking a million questions and wanting no answers. Not yet. He opened the note, filled with numbers and digits in what had to be a code. How on Earth was he supposed to decipher this? He knew numbers, but only in math, not in computers and codes. But Dante must have known someone who could figure this out.

The girl. The one he never shut up about when he’d come into the bar at the end of the summer. Went on talking about her and her big brain and big eyes for an entire six hours until last call when he’d be pushed out the door. The girl could figure this out.

Thorn pulled out his phone and sent a text to his father’s VP of the motorcycle club (they were technically a club, but their criminal activities earned them the title of gang). Billy knew everything about everyone in Salemsville. If they interacted with the club, or with people who interacted with the club, then he knew even more.

He scanned the rest of the note, looking for more information. At the bottom, written in an even more hurried state, read, “Atticus couldn’t save Tom Robinson, but he could avenge him.” Thorn paused as he studied the words. What did To Kill a Mockingbird have to do with numeric codes? Before he could question it more, Billy responded with a detailed profile of Dante and his associates. The girl in question, the one who’d help solve whatever mystery they’d been dragged into? Indigo Blue Davis.

He held her picture out to Zion, who had set himself up with a much-needed glass of wine. It was from the best bottle, according to Zion. This couldn’t be pretty, whatever Dante had done.

“Know her?” Thorn asked, shaking his phone to get Zion’s attention.

“That’s Indy. She dated Dante. And now Dante’s dead.”

Thorn didn’t have the proper expletives to express his emotions. Dante was dead. He’d left a note for Thorn that only Indy or Indigo or whoever she was could decode. He knew the local dealer was involved in some deep stuff and wasn’t necessarily loyal to the club, but he hadn’t realized it was murder worthy.

Someone killed Dante. Someone murdered him because of information he shouldn’t have had, knowing Dante and his wily nature. And now the deadman wanted Thorn and Indigo to avenge him.

“Get her here,” he directed Zion, showing the numeric code to his coworker and (only) friend.

Zion took half a second to process—must have still been in shock—before pulling out his phone and dialing the woman.

Whatever had happened to Dante, and therefore Zion, Thorn, and this Indigo woman, he had a stinking suspicion that it wouldn’t be over anytime soon.

[chaos-weekly]

indy blues

“You’re the best anyone could ask for, Indigo.”

That last text from Dante kept ringing in her ears. She couldn’t get it out. It was midnight and she was staring at her ceiling, unable to close her eyes without seeing his brown eyes. She’d spent thirty minutes in the shower scrubbing every inch of her body, trying to wash away the guilt that clung to her. She rubbed her skin so raw and red that it matched her eyes. Indy couldn’t get him off of her.

She sat up with a sigh, rubbing her tear stained cheeks with her hands. This was pathetic. She was absolutely pathetic. She got up, pulled on a sweatshirt from her drawer, and headed outside to sit on the swing strung up under the big oak tree in their front yard.

The cold air felt nice on her warm cheeks. The cool weather the start of Fall brought around was probably the town’s only saving grace. Now, Salemsville was marred by the murder of an almost boyfriend who she cared deeply about.

There wasn’t a doubt in Indigo’s mind that Dante had been murdered. He’d told her shortly before she’d gone back to college that he was involved in some dangerous stuff that he wanted out of. Then, this past Thursday, he’d sent her a text asking her to come home for the fall festival. He “needed to see her,” and even though he hadn't said it, she knew it was missing, “for the last time.” He was skipping town, getting out of his mess and Salemsville for good. 

The first time Dante brought up leaving Salemsville was when she’d broken up with him at the end of July. 

“I get it, you don’t like my life,” he’d said, begging her to reconsider. “I don’t either. I swear. I’ll quit the weed, quit the sketchy business, and skip town. No one’s gonna care if I leave, Indy.”

“What about your sister?” she’d retorted. “She’s going to care if you bail. And your lifestyle isn’t the only reason I’m ending this thing, whatever it is. It’s us, Dante. We don’t work.”

“That’s bullsh-t and you know it,” he argued. He had been more frustrated than she’d ever seen him. “We don’t work because of this stupid town, this town where no one gives a sh-t about me. I could leave tomorrow and no one but Micah would notice.”

But people did care. And people did notice that Dante was going to leave Salemsville. He was wrong about being unimportant; he was so important that someone decided he needed to stay in the Hellhole that was her hometown permanently. 

They were supposed to meet by the storage shed by the corn maze. It was a classic hookup spot for them, and even though everyone knew what kids did in the shed, no one cared enough to put an end to it. But as she approached their rendezvous point, Indy started noticing the cops swarming the shed. She started to see the yellow tape. She saw an ambulance. She saw a mass being wheeled out on a stretcher. Indy broke into a run towards the shed, heart pounding. 

“What happened?” she asked the first cop she saw, voice panicked. “Is that a body? Who is that?” The cop didn’t respond, pretending like Indy was invisible. 

“Please,” Indy begged, grabbing the cop's arm only to be promptly shoved off. “Have you seen Dante? Please tell me that isn’t Dante.” It was only then that the copped turned to her, a look of pity in her eyes. 

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, and Indy knew. 

Dante was dead, and someone in Salemsville had murdered him.

Indigo used her hands to wipe the tears that had decided to flood her face again, but it was useless. She tilted her head towards the night sky and let them flow. She let out another sigh, her voice shaking.

“F-ck.”

[chaos-weekly]

jr. detective

Everyone has at least one moment in their life that’s unforgettable. For some people, it’s their first kiss. Others may remember a moment with friends, a family vacation, or maybe even a really cute dog on a really bad day. 

Zion would never forget the moment he saw a de.ad body for the first time. 

The body was in the storage shed out front of the corn maze the the Salemsville Fall Festival, an event Zion had spent the last four months planning and organizing. It was slumped in a dark corner where it would have been hidden from the eyes of anyone who was just simply scanning the shed for a tool. But Zion wasn’t looking for a tool. Zion was making sure that there weren’t any high schoolers going at it in front of the corn maze. 

The only hooligan he ended up finding had been sh.ot right in the forehead, exec.ution style.

Zion felt like he might throw up, but he crept closer, too curious for his own good, to examine the body. It was a male maybe a little younger than he was, with dark hair, tan skin, and dark eyes that were wide open and staring deep into his soul. The blo.od around the wound seemed to still be wet. This was recent. Stomach churning, Zion looked around quickly for a gun. When he didn’t find it, he realized his worst nightmare was coming true-- this man had been murd.ered at his very own fall festival. 

He instinctively reached for his phone to call the cops. As his finger hovered over the emergency dial button, Zion paused. There was something about the Salemsville Police that seemed off. It wasn’t anything they’d done, but there were men like his brother-in-law Magnus and Magnus’s lackey Roy on the force, and that didn’t sit right with him. But it wasn’t like he could just leave the body for someone else to hopefully one day discover. So he did the only thing he could think to do-- take pictures. Zion took photos on his phone of everything: the body, the bu.llet hole, the crime scene. There were some footprints that he knew weren’t his, so he took a picture of those. And he took a picture of the bottom of the guy’s shoes, too. They weren’t his footprints, either. 

Upon closer inspection of the body while playing crime scene photographer, Zion noticed a note sticking out of the body’s shirt pocket. There were some words written on it, but it was too dark to make them out, so Zion turned on his phone’s flashlight. 

“To Thorn.”

Zion felt dizzy. This kid was involved with the biker gang. If Zion knew one thing about the dynamics of the town, he knew that the biker gang and the cops didn’t necessarily get along. If the cops got ahold of this note, Thorn would never see it. 

He didn’t think twice about taking it off the body. It was fortunate that he knew Thorn-- he was a fellow bartender at the bar his sister’s lover had given him a job at-- but Zion told himself that he would have tracked down this stranger anyway. It was like giving a big middle finger to Magnus and the other skeezes on the force, and Zion didn’t miss any opportunity to be petty.

It was only then that he called the cops, telling them the location. He didn’t have to try to sound disgusted or shocked or sick. The whole situation was horrific. 

The rest of the evening was a blur. He gave a brief statement to the police, closed the corn maze, and made sure everyone knew the Salemsville Fall Festival wouldn’t be shut down because there was a de.ad body in the storage shed. The night ended, the festival drew to a close, and Zion cleaned up. It was only when he sat down behind the wheel of his car at midnight that everything came flooding in. He knew what he had to do. 

///

Zion pushed open the door of the crowded motorcycle bar. His stomach felt the same way it did when he first saw the dea.d body as he approached the bar. Thorn watched him silently the entire way up, as if he already knew what was coming. 

He pulled the wrinkled note from his pocket and pushed it across the bar.

“This is for you.”

[chaos-weekly]

A year had passed since Liya left her family behind. Instead of celebrating how she wanted to—dragging Cerin and Gray out for drinks—she was stuck at freaking Zaira Bram’s 27th birthday party. Who even threw themselves a birthday party for turning 27? Liya hadn’t had a birthday party since she was seven. This was ridiculous. But nope, Zaira loved attention. All of it. All the time.

And she wondered why everyone hated her.

To be fair, there were other reasons Zaira sucked. She was impulsive, hot headed, arrogant, the list continued.

“Will she ever become tolerable?” Cerin grumbled, coming up behind Liya and handing her a beer. She preferred vodka, for obvious reasons, but even Irish Americans loved their beer. Then again, she was Russian American. The stereotypes were based in truth.

“Beats me. You’ve known her longer,” Liya pointed out.

“Regrettably.”

“What’s regrettable?” Gray asked, walking up to the two roommates.

“Zaira’s entire existence,” Cerin answered glumly.

“Or the fact that she exists in our vicinity,” Liya amended. Cerin weighed the the thought before nodding.

“One day you two will learn to have respect for your leaders,” Gray chuckled.

“Hey, I’m technically not sworn in. She’s not my leader,” Liya countered.

“And she won’t be at the rate you’re going,” Gray shot back. She snarled at him playfully, earning another chuckle.

“What did you get the Princess for her birthday? Same card?” Cerin changed the subject, looking between his two closest friends.

“My old Starbucks gift card. I think there’re ninety two cents on there? It’s enough for tax.” Liya shrugged. She was on limited funds, since all her money was either stolen, gifted, or her share that Cerin unlawfully gave her after every assignment succeeded with her intel. Joe Bram and Landon Moon didn’t know how she was making money, nor did they want to know. They didn’t want anything to do with her, actually, but they were starting to appreciate her intel. That was what Cerin said, and he only lied when it worked in his favor.

“Generous.”

“I spare what I can.”

“Did you get her the same card?” Cerin asked, turning back to Gray, who nodded.

“Same card?” Liya was still getting to know Gray. He was easier to be around then most of the mobsters Cerin had introduced her to, but he was also more terrifying. Then again, Liya wasn’t outright terrified of him. Intimidated? Concerned? Yes to both. But not scared. She could take care of herself, and Gray had no assignments to take her out. She’d be dead before she realized if he did.

“Zaira and Gray exchange the same card each time they get the other a present.”

“And the spare change from my last assignment,” Gray added.

“Wasn’t she Canadian?”

“Yes.”

“Even better. Zaira will be annoyed,” Cerin said. Even though he didn’t smile, he was definitely amused. Liya had spent enough time around her roommate to read his moods.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Some generic Hallmark card.”

“Did you give her an envelope to go with that?” Gray asked.

“No, why would I do that? She means nothing to me and deserves to know as much.”

Yup, Cerin didn’t lie unless it was for his own advantage. That much would never change. He was as selfish and self-centered as could be. At least his goals usually worked out in Liya’s favor.

Gray rolled his eyes and sipped his beer.

“I just hope I don’t have to talk to her,” Liya grumbled. She’d had three conversations with Zaira in the last year, and each had ended in disaster. The first time, Zaira thought she worked for catering or was a maid. The second time, Zaira thought she was Cerin’s sex slave (and told Cerin as much) because Liya had the audacity to grumble in Russian. The most recent time? Zaira had pulled a knife on her for accidentally walking too close. Yes, Zaira had been drunk and possibly high with her partner in crime, the certifiably insane Fiadh, but it still didn’t rectify Liya’s negative opinion.

“You will one day if you want to work with us, sweetheart. She’s your future boss, sweetheart,” Gray chided with a joking edge to his voice. Liya rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Убийца.”

“You’re never gonna tell me what that means,” Gray sighed.

“I won’t tell you either,” Cerin promised, earning a glare from his best friend.

“Just google it,” Liya suggested. She winked at Gray.

“With what alphabet?”

“Cyrillic.”

“And I’m supposed to know that.”

“Obviously. Cerin does.”

“Cerin learned because you texted him the name when talking about me.”

“Then steal Cerin’s phone,” Liya said with a roll of her eyes.

“Cerin, give me your phone,” Gray said, turning to Cerin and staring him down. He cocked an eyebrow at his assassin best friend.

“No.”

“Cerin.”

“Gray.”

“Убийца,” Liya added, smiling deviously. Both men looked at her; both were hiding amusement (and failing). Liya grew up around macho men who didn’t show emotions. She could read people well.

“Cerin!” Someone boomed his name, and Cerin’s typical scowl resumed its place. His father was calling. Probably to ask why Liya was here.

“Good luck. I’m getting another beer,” Gray announced, slinking towards the bar. And that left Liya all on her lonesome, which wasn’t the end of the world. As long as she didn’t have to deal with Zaira, she’d be perfectly fine.