Candace cleared her throat in the same mucus-hacking way she’d done when Ash acted up as a child. To this day, it rattled Ash, made her feel like a criminal.
“Go home. Now.”
Ash fought the temptation to turn back and instead held up her smooth stump. “You expect me to live with this?”
“I expect you to find closure and move on.”
“You’re the one who needs to move on, Candace. I’m trying to tell you—this is our chance to free everyone.”
“More likely, you’ll get everyone killed.”
“We can save what’s left of their lives.”
“My decision’s final.”
“Who made it your decision? What about the other Traders? Don’t they get a say?”
“Stop pretending you care about them. It’s always been about you, Ash. Always. I’m not letting you throw my Traders around like money at the horse track.”
“At least give them a choice.”
“Choice?” Candace smirked. “Here’s a choice: either walk downstairs or roll down. Go on, make your selection.”
“Ashlee, please,” Dad called.
Meeting Candace’s eyes, Ash said, “The Traders deserve to hear this offer. They should have a say. You said it’s all about me? Wrong. It’s all about you. You just want to keep playing queen in your cozy little kingdom.”
Candace folded her thick arms. Though the chandelier gleamed nearby, it did nothing to brighten her hard gray face. “This is about protecting lives.” She lowered her voice, speaking through gritted teeth. “Fifteen years ago my husband was murdered for his traded part. You remember that, don’t you?”
A lump formed in Ash’s throat. She nodded.
“Good. Then you know why I take this shit seriously. Why I do what I do. Because fifteen years ago I got robbed of the greatest man I’ve ever known. And I won’t…” Candace looked away, her eyes glossy. She took a breath. “I won’t let anyone else be at risk.”
“They’ll always be at risk.” Ash steeled herself, clutching the banister. “I bet if you asked John MacReady, he’d tell you to take Snare’s offer.”
Candace narrowed her eyes. “I don’t appreciate you using his death as a debate tactic.”
“I’m just saying. You can’t protect everyone. Nobody can.” Again, Ash fought the urge to retreat downstairs. “All I’m asking is that you give the Traders a say.”
“I speak for them. And the answer is no.”
“At least tell them about the offer.”
Candace glared back, but Ash matched her, eye for eye.
“If you don’t,” Ash said, squeezing the wooden banister till it creaked, “I will.”
20
When they returned home, Ash headed straight for the fridge. Holy fuck, do I need a drink. When she was growing up, only one person on earth terrified her, and that was Candace. Even now, as a grown woman, Ash felt small in her presence. Imposing as Candace was, what truly worried Ash was the woman’s conviction. Candace showed no sign of wavering. With Snare’s deadline looming, Ash needed Candace to wise up fast.
In the fridge Ash found nothing harder than club soda. Dad going sober turned out to be good for him but bad for her. She checked the stove clock. She’d have to wait another hour before Narducci’s opened for lunch at noon. For now, she could start recruiting Traders and mellow out with a six-pack afterwards.
Five parts, she thought. Jaw, ribs, leg, kidneys, skin.
It seemed easy enough, but she had to be careful. Telling the wrong person could expose Traders. And if that happened, Candace would push harder against her.
The doorbell rang. Probably Trent. Maybe they picked up wine while they were shopping. Ash hurried to the door. When she opened it, she stifled a gasp.
“Yo, Ashes!”
“Cheeto?” For a moment she was relieved to see him on the porch. Then she remembered her missing hand. She flung her arm behind her back. “What’re you doing here?”
“Just popping in.” He lifted a bulging plastic bag with the Downhill Diner logo on it. “Grabbed us some buffalo turkey subs.”
“How’d you know I live here?”
“I asked at the diner. You told me Hollow Hills, and I figured, hey, small town, maybe somebody knows.” He grinned. “Yo, there’s some really friendly people around here. Even this one guy who was giving me weird looks ended up shooting the shit with me for ten minutes. He bought our album too! How cool is that?”
“Great.” Her wrist felt emptier than ever. She needed him gone. He couldn’t see her like this. If he did, he’d freak out. Then he’d tell their bandmates, the music bloggers, and eventually the whole civilized world. “Cheets, now’s a bad time.”
“Oh, come on!” he said, playfully shoving the door. “Don’t worry about having no makeup on. I like you natural.”
Her cheeks burned. “Seriously, you can’t be here.”
He made a comically sad face, then lifted the bag. “But, Miss Hudson, I brought you a spicy, high-calorie lunch.”
“I can see that.” She forced a smile. “And I appreciate it. But now’s a bad time.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Some family shit.”
“Oh? They home? I’m sure they’d love to meet me.”
“Look, let’s eat later.” She went to shut the door, but he slid his foot inside. He laughed as she tried kicking the toe of his shoe. With her hand hidden behind her back, she was off balance. She stumbled, giving him an opening.
He stepped inside.
“Cheeto, fuck off!” Her voice rose to a shriek, and he froze. She exhaled and tried to calm herself as a chilly breeze blew in. “Look, I didn’t mean to snap. How about we eat later?”
Cheeto frowned. The bag of subs dangled at his side. He looked her up and down, not in a sexual way, but as if he were trying to diagnose something wrong with her. He squinted for a moment, chewing on his lower lip. “Can I say something?”
“What?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Me?” She fake-laughed. “I’m fine. Just lots of shit going on.”
“Such as?”
“Well, my…”
Hand. That’s what’s she wanted to tell him about. If she sat him down and explained things, everything would get easier. Assuming he didn’t freak out. He was never good at keeping secrets. Plus, it was humiliating. She didn’t want him seeing her like this. He’d always known her to kick ass onstage and manage the band with attitude. She didn’t want him to think of her as an amputee. Even temporarily.
“My…one neighbor died.” It was the first thing that came to mind. “The guy babysat me when I was younger.”
“Oh, shit,” Cheeto said, and before she could back away, he threw his arms around her and squeezed tight. She didn’t resist. She always liked his hugs, even the annoying surprise ones when he snuck up on her. They made her believe he could hold her together.
Like right now.
Slowly and carefully, she reached behind him and hugged back. She made sure not to let her empty cast touch him. The smell of his ocean-scented shampoo soothed her. The way her chin rested on his shoulder felt great. Felt normal.