Page 26 of Riot Reunion
“We didn’t really have a choice, though, did we?” Elodie hisses. “You told us you were coming up here to kill someone, and the way you said it gave us the impression that you meant it. So, unless we made our peace and let youmurdersomeone—”
“I could have made my peace with that,” Wren interjects. “A man’s homicide list is a private thing.”
Elodie glares at him. “I’m not about to let him murderPresley, now, am I?”
A bark of laughter rips out of my throat, forming a burst of fog in the frozen air. “Fuck you, Stillwater. If you think I’d lay a finger on her, even if shewascheating on me…just seriously. Fuck you.I would never.”
Wren’s pint-sized girlfriend has the decency to look chagrined. “I know you wouldn’t. Sorry. But what do you want me to say? It seemed prudent to come. Sometimes things get out of hand when emotions run high and—”
“So, youdothink she’s cheating on me, then.” I let my head hang as I shove my way inside the stupid fucking Europcar porta-shed, wincing at the blast of stale heat that slaps me in the face. Pretending like Elodie’s answer doesn’t matter is vitally important for some reason. She knows Chase as well as anyone. Better, maybe. They’re girls, and girls talk about personal shit all of the time. Could be that Chase confessed what’s been going on to her after that weird ass phone call and that’s why she insisted on crashing my little trip up here. She swears blind she hasn’t spoken to her since—I made her promise not to reach back out when Chase didn’t return her call yesterday evening—but who fucking knows if she’s telling the truth.
It’s not that I don’t trust Stillwater. I don’t trust anyone. Right now, I’m having trouble trustingmyself, and that’s a pretty frightening prospect.
“She’s not cheating on you, dipshit.” Wren surveys our surroundings with the level of contempt one might direct at the sole of their shoe after stepping in a pile of dog shit. He picks up a Styrofoam cup from the coffee station, standing beside an ancient vending machine in the corner—it still has a button forTab Cola, for fuck’s sake—peers inside said cup, as if inspecting its worthiness as a potential caffeine receptacle, grimaces, then sets it back down, disgusted.
I ignore the display of snobbery, choosing rather to focus on his comment. “How the fuck wouldyouknow? When was the last time you saw her? Fucking graduation?”
“Yes. Fucking graduation,” he says airily.
“I suppose you’ve been chatting up a storm on IG, then.” Petty. So fucking petty. I sound like a butthurt thirteen-year-old. I don’t know what the fuck is going on inside my body right now, but I know one thing for sure: I do not appreciate this new, reactive, emotional side of myself. The idea that Wren might have messaged Chase on Instagram is fucking ludicr—
“You’re fucking ludicrous.” Wren smirks savagely, the corner of his mouth tugging up to form the smuggest of smiles. “Remember when you gave me shit for gluing that bird back together for Elodie, asshole?”
I glower at him. “No.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“No.”
“How about when you tried to knock me out at our last Riot House party, for developing feelings for a girl and breaking our pact?”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Really? How convenient for you.”
“I don’t think any of this is fucking convenient. I’d say all of this is decidedlyinconvenient. We’re inAlaska. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out there.”
“I stand by my statement. Presley Chase isnotcheating on you.” He picks up the Styrofoam cup again and quickly looks inside, as if he might find something lurking at the bottom of it this time. Elodie snatches it from him and sets it back down on the coffee stand, rolling her eyes.
“What Wren’s trying to say is that Pres is madly in love with you, the poor girl, and the very last thing she’d ever do is betray your trust like that. Anyone with a pair of eyes in their head can see that.”
Jacobi pulls a face—looks like he just swallowed a bee. “The girl has emoji love hearts in her eyes when she looks at you. It’s fucking sickening.”
“Excuse me, guys. Is there…can I…haha…is there something I can help you with this afternoon? Are you looking to rent a vehicle, or…?”
Well, hot fucking damn. There’s a person behind the desk. A young, acne-ridden guy in his early twenties. His white button-down shirt is so thin that I can see his nipple hair through the cotton. He smiles sheepishly, giving us a small wave that says,sorry to interrupt but Idofucking exist and why the hell are you bickering in my porta-cabin like morons?
Elodie steps toward him, gesturing with one hand that me and Wren should stay exactly where we are. Probably a good idea; neither of us are known for our civil tongues. “Yes, we actually have a booking. It’s under the name Davis.”
“Ahh, yeah. Davis. We’ve finished cleaning the SUV you requested. Four-wheel-drive. We’re just putting snow chains on it at the moment. Shouldn’t be long. If I could just grab an ID, I’ll take a copy and we’ll have you guys on your way.”
9
PAX
Once,when I was eight years old, my father took me on one of his many ‘business trips.’
Hawaii. A week-long stay at one of those shitty, cheap all-inclusive resorts, where the breakfast buffet serves powdered egg, filmy slabs of sliced spam, and endless trays full of overripe melon. I’d been so excited to go—excited that he wanted to take me with him. Foolish enough to think that he actually wanted to spend time with me.
