Page 91 of Wilde's End
“Yes. There was talk about some of the other towns hosting, but it’s convenient. Especially with Booker. He organizes the matches, the betting pool, and is ready for any injuries.”
“The betting pool?”
I’m still hesitant to tell him details about the town. It requires a level of trust he hasn’t earned and, if I’m honest with myself, he probably nevercouldearn. It goes against all my natural instincts, but I have to give him something. “It’s how we make our money. There are matches throughout the afternoon and into the night, and people bet on who they think will win, whether there are any injuries, how long each match will take … there are endless options. Booker takes a brokerage fee, and the winners take a percentage of the betting pool and door charge. It’s where we make our money. Especially when it comes to a fight like mine and Foley’s.”
“Who’s Foley?”
“He’s the mayor of Dale and my sworn Peril enemy.”
“You?” Hudson chokes back a laugh. “You have a sworn enemy?”
“We’re two of the best, and every month, we challenge each other. The wins have been fairly even, but I lost last time”—it takes all my restraint to not point out that the loss was from dealing with Hudson every day—“which means I lost a big chunk of cash the town needs. And now I’m injured, so it’s unlikely I’ll win next week, which means I’ll lose us even more money.”
“Someone else can fight for you this time.”
“Sure. But they’d lose. Foley and I are the best.”
“And then you use your winnings for the town?”
I nod, steering down a narrow road before I pull to a stop within eyesight of the crop fields. “Capitalism isn’t a thing here. We share resources. The electricity is solar and we have a battery farm in the containers down there.” I point toward the shipping containers that are locked up tight. “Our crop fields are managed by Lynx, and in exchange for food, people help tend the land. If something’s broken, we fix it together. Living shouldn’t cost an arm and a leg. You need a house? We’ll build it for you, but you’re going to work hard for it as well. Nothing is free, but it doesn’t cost money. Time, energy, teamwork—those things are more important out here.”
“Then why bother with Peril?”
“Because the rest of the world doesn’t work that way. We can get a lot that we need out here, but things like building supplies, hygiene products, Booker’s medicines … that’s what the Peril fund goes toward. I earn the money, Rooney takes it and gets whatever we need.” I glance at him as he turns it all over in his mind.
“You have it all worked out.”
Wedid. The kind of frictionless community that can be built when no one wants for anything. When things likemoreare talked about, it’s only the difference between Ziggy having an old TV or the Raylon kids having phones with internet. Both of those things aren’t a need, and most of us aren’t interested in them. These brothers though … I’m not being dramatic when I say how delicate the arrangement up here is.
New people coming into town, wearing brand labels and driving Range Rovers and posting pictures of Wilde’s End all over the place, could easily be the tipping point. It doesn’t take much to turn the most level head envious, and while most of the families moved here willingly, the kids have grown up onlyknowing this, and they’re the ones who are vulnerable. They don’t know what the rest of the world is like.
And the rest of the world definitely doesn’t know what we’re like.
But Hudson and his brothers have a plan, and I don’t have a workaround for them. They have money tied up in the place, and they need a return on that money.
Even if it makes him the bad guy inmyeyes, he’s right. He’s not a bad guy. This is all a matter of circumstance.
“Viv wants to meet you next,” I tell him, pulling back out onto the road. “Don’t worry, she’ll love you. She’s the adoptive mom type who loves everyone.”
Plus, if today has made one thing clear, it’s that Hudson is apparently an easy guy to like.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
HUDSON
I’m buzzing. All day, so many faces and too many names, every single one of them with personalities too big to hold in one tiny town. The way Viv took me under her arm and showed me around her house and land, the obvious pride in her voice, really smacked me in the face with … something. Something I’m not smart enough to recognize. Gracie and her intense curiosity about everything. Jean and Cookie and their exhibit of wooden sculptures. Bashful Nixon and his five younger siblings. Queenie, who insisted on reading my tarot cards. Nox, and the chess game they challenged me to.
I give my head a shake as I work through the muddled feelings that are warring for space in my chest.
No matter how different these Wenders are from each other, they have one thing in common. They’rehappy. Not the type of happy I put on to cover the crushing disappointment of life. The kind of happy that is bursting out of them. And when Wilde isaround them, it softens him. Those hard edges melt, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes.
I’d been expecting hostility and intense questioning, not being made to feel welcome.
It’s probably the worst thing I’ve experienced here so far.
Wilde’s watching me over the hood of his truck. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”
