“Carmelita?” My brows pull low.
“She’s Pops’ baby. ‘67 Camaro. It was wrecked in an underground race, like that shit from Grease. Anyway, he got it for a song and he and his father fixed her up.”
“How come we’ve never heard of this?” Judge asks.
“Because and I quote, ‘I dont need no fucker drooling over my baby. She’s for me and me alone.” Gus says, mimicking Pops.
“Well, looks like she might be Marx’s now,” Saint says, slapping a hand on Gus’s shoulder and cackling like an Ol Lady.
Fuckin’ great.
Joy
“Cowabunga!” Ana yells before downing another pink drink.
“Ugh, I swear that I’m kicking Tav out if he makes the kids watch any more ninja turtles.” Blanche whines.
“What’s a ninja turtle?” Loyal asks, one eye looking saggy from the drinks. Or is it my eyes making her eyes look saggy?
I close my eyes tight and count to four before blinking them open. I’ve never really drunk much before, probably because my father was a raging alcoholic but I feel like here, with the girls, I’ll be fine. I just have to not touch anything sharp. Like the knives that Chewy has laid out.
“Whoa, where did that axe come from?” Kaia mumbles.
“This? I found it over there. Switch’s family actually has a whole range of them. I’m adding them to the table of sharp things we can throw,” Chewy says while waving around the tomahawk.
“Whoa whoa, preggo, there will be no throwing of sharp things.” Mercy says, her long legs eating up the space between her and Chewy to take the extra weapons from her.
“Oh no,” Mira says with concern, sliding her sunglasses down her nose as she waves her drink around in the air. “Don’t take the extra sharp pointy things away.”
“Wait, you too?” Kaia says, swinging to look at Mira. “Are you into throwing knives?”
“I wasn’t before. But now I am.” She nods toward the targets Chewy has set up.
Each of them has a face taped to the bulls eye. Wait. I close one eye to get a better look, and then I freeze. Is that Travis? I move forward to get a closer look, happy that I’m not weaving around or stumbling in my sneakers. Obviously the alcohol only affects my eyesight.
“Joy! The drinks are back here, girl!” I think that’s Reid’s sister Martha calling me, but I keep moving, eyes on the target.
A gasp catches in my throat as I get a better view of the bullseye. Right there, in the middle of the target is Travis’s smug face. Looking around there are more faces in the other targets, but this is the only one that interests me. The man who made my life a living hell. Marching to the table that Chewy has set up I slam my half empty girly drink down on the table and pick up a knife. It’s a big meaty one, a cleaver I think it’s called and it doesn't feel right in my hand. So I put it down and run my gaze over the set up.
“Ah, Joy, you OK?” Lovely asks gently as she watches me weigh the knives in my hand one by one.
“I think I’m about to be better than OK,” I murmur before turning on my heel, lining up and flinging the knife in my hand at Travis’s stupid, fat face.
The knife bounces off and I storm toward the bullseye to pick it up before moving back to the line to try again.
“What the hell? That’s my father!” Blanche says, putting her drink down and squinting at her bullseye.
“Yup. And your uncle, and Loyal’s father is down there. Mira, that crazy woman that sent you body parts -”
“What?” Mercy and Gallows bark at the same time.
“- and Vi that crappy ex of yours. Kaia, your ex is down there too, so is yours Jazz. Nat, that man who tried to traffic you, and Ana, your old bodyguard. Pretty much every shitty ex or parent is all down there.” Chewy finishes off looking proud.
“Ah, Chewy, why is Tank on your bullseye?” Mira asks.
“He ate the last Twinkie, Mira. And I’m not taking that shit lying down.” With that Chewy lifts a knife, tosses it in her hand and then spins, her arm shooting right out as we all watch as her knife lands directly between Tank’s eyes.
“Daaaaamn,” Nat whispers.
