Page 119 of Scatter the Bones

“I think you’ll find joy in knowing that she calls me out on my bullshit.”

His lips twist with amusement. “Those must be some fun conversations.”

“They’re both terrifying and arousing.”

Dex presses his hand over his mouth like he’s trying to keep something from escaping—amusement or disbelief, it’s hard to tell. His shoulders shake once before he drops his hand. “You worried partying with porn stars might be too much for her?”

“You heard how she pulled a knife on Dee-Dee at the bonfire, right?”

“That seals it. She’s definitely the right woman for you.” There’s nothing but approval, maybe even admiration, in his tone.

“I think so too.”

“Good.” He reaches out and slaps my shoulder. “Gonna make it official?”

“In due time.” He’s been so helpful, I figure I owe him the same. “Areyouworried about Emily partying with the porn stars?”

“I warned her ahead of time.” He shrugs. “After Swan and some of the other dancers pulled their crap, I think she canhandle Stella and her crew.” He holds up both hands. “And I never had any serious ties to any of these women.”

A twinge of guilt pokes at me. I could’ve been more welcoming to Emily when they first got serious. “That situation with Swan get any better?”

He tips his head side to side. “I don’t think they’ll ever be besties, but they’re civil. For now.”

“Swan’s tight with some of the other ol’ ladies. That causing any tension?”

He opens his mouth, then hesitates. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “She hasn’t said so. Serena was her best friend before Grinder or I came along. So, they’re fine.”

“Maybe we should swap charters,” I joke.

Dex gives me a long stare like he’s trying to decide if I’m the dumbest motherfucker alive—or a fucking genius.

MARGOT

“Ready to go inside?” Jigsaw slides his arms around my waist, pulling me back against him.

His solid body surrounding me finally helps me draw my first full breath in minutes. The steady weight of him quiets the static in my head.

I’m not new to people. I talk to grieving families for a living. I navigate strangers’ worst days with steady hands and a gentle voice. Small talk and surface-level connection? I can do that all day, every day.

But tonight is different. It’s personal. These people matter to Jigsaw. And I want them to like me. I want to fit in and be accepted.

Wanting something I’ve only experienced once before—at the bonfire—keeps me wound tight with anxiety. They acceptedmy weirdness then. Surely, they’ll notice how awkward I am this time?

No, these nerves twist my insides with a different kind of tension. Why?

The porn stars? Maybe. I have zero experience or knowledge about that industry. Coffins, embalming, formaldehyde ratios, flower arrangements, grief management—those I can handle in my sleep. I can sew a shattered jaw shut and make it look like it never happened. But sex on camera—lighting, angles, what positions look the best for an audience? Nope. That’s a whole different universe. One I have no map for. No script. Just insecurity and a lingering fear that I’ll be the weird, awkward outsider who wandered onto the wrong set.

My creepy doll story probably won’t help me at this party.

Hope reaches out, giving my arm an affectionate squeeze. “Go ahead. We’ll be in soon.” She flicks her gaze to Jigsaw. “Wait until you see what the guys did to your clubhouse.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“It has to be seen to be believed,” Hope promises.

As we step inside the doors, a black curtain blocks our view. Red glows around the edges. A biker standing to the side pulls the curtain back, motioning for us to move forward.

“What the fuuuuck?” Jigsaw mutters.

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