Jester nods along as I talk, taking mental notes. If there’s one thing about my friend, he’s dependable. Annoying at times, true, but loyal to his last breath. He’s made it his mission to make people laugh because the world is in chaos, and most people are miserable. Okay, and yes, he’s also a psychopath, but so are most of the Unholy—me included. You can’t do the things we do and have a stable psyche.
It doesn’t work that way.
We’re wired differently. Whether by nurture or nature.
I’m a prime example of how twisted a person can be and still function in society. Then there’s my brother. Discord’s brain is a science project gone wrong. The things he suffered during our childhood left him damaged. One day, I’m going to find the sonofabitch who hurt us—who hurt him—and I’m going to torture him. Medieval style. Then I’m going to kill him. After he’s dead? I’ll piss on his corpse.
That’s the plan, and I’ll never deviate from it.
“Consider it done,” Jester says.
I steer the cart down one more aisle, wishing I could wring Kerri’s pretty neck for what I have to buy her. “Do I need to remind you to keep our presence here private?”
Jester rolls his eyes. “Do I look like a dumbass?”
I lift a brow. “Is that a trick question or another one of your rhetorical ones?”
“You’re a dick,” Jester snaps, then he realizes where we are and lets out a loud laugh. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
“You can at least help,” I growl.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Fuck no. This is all you, my friend.”
No, seriously, one day, I’m going to accidentally kill him on purpose.
I glance at the list one more time and bite back a curse before crumbling the paper and shoving it in the pocket of my O’Neal jacket. Here I am, an Unholy. An enforcer with a body count a mile fucking high…
…inspecting tampon boxes for the exact brand, so I don’t get it wrong.
“Stop fucking snickering,” I snarl at Jester.
Still laughing, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, I feel your pain. I’ve had to buy Faith tampons.”
“Then get your ass over here and help me—take one more fucking picture of me, and I’m sticking that phone up your ass,” I threaten as he happily clicks photo after photo of me sorting through tampon boxes.
“Fine,” Jester grumbles. “You’re no fun.” He comes over and peers at a product I’ve selected. “That one looks right.”
Before he’s even finished with his confirmation, I toss the box in the cart, and I’m already halfway down the personal hygiene aisle by the time he catches up to me. While I’m here, though, I grab a few more things I think she’ll need. Items Jester tries to tease me about, but a single glare from me shuts him the fuck up.
Once I’m satisfied I’ve got everything, we go to an empty register, and I unload the groceries on the belt. “How you doing?” I greet the familiar clerk.
The elderly gentleman, who I’ve gotten somewhat familiar with over the last year, gives me a slow smile. “Can’t complain. You?”
“Same old. You know how it is.”
I keep it friendly but impersonal. Up here, if you’re too standoffish, it draws red flags. I walk a razor’s edge to keep it casual.
“Don’t I know it.” I begin bagging.
Jester hangs back, keeping a watchful eye on the door.
“How long are you up for this time, son?”
I give the man a one-shoulder shrug. “Not sure.”
He goes to scan the tampons, then looks at me when he realizes what he’s holding. “Finally got a lady friend, do you?” he asks with a lifted brow. He’s never seen me with a woman, so I can understand his curiosity. Actually, he’s never seen me with anyone else except for today.
“Something like that.” I keep my eyes on the groceries as I bag them while mentally tallying what I bought.
