The woman looked at Andi with a blank expression for a moment, lips parted. It was the perfect "what the fuck" expression if I'd ever seen one.
"And on that note, who is coming with me to the emergency clinic tomorrow?" the woman asked, looking around. When her gaze landed on me, she snapped her fingers. "Oh, right. You're why we're here. I'm Violet," she explained. "Daughter of Lou and Adler, if you're keeping track."
"I like what you did there," Billie said, smirking. "Mom's name first."
"Smash that patriarchy," Violet agreed.
I hadn't met Lou personally, but I knew that she was a bond recovery agent. Which sort of explained why her daughter came out seeming very strong and capable.
She was stupid pretty, too.
They all were in their own ways.
And Violet was on the tall side, long-legged, with a killer rack and a somewhat delicate face with a cleft chin, strong brows, and honey-brown eyes. She, like Hope, and like me, preferred the color black and comfortable and efficient clothes.
"Violet just got back into town," Gracie explained. "She's been covering for her mom who is caring for Uncle Adler. She was off chasing a fugitive in... where was it?" she asked.
"Well, it was supposed to be California. But the prick hopped a plane to a family farm in Iowa. Found him trying to hide behind a pig who was bathing in the mud. That fuckhead owes me a new pair of Docs," she grumbled. "So, what were we talking about?"
"How Hope and Danny are bitches," Billie supplied.
"Yeah? Me too. Three fucking musketeers here now," she said, shooting me a smirk.
"This is far from the 'if you hurt our cousin, I will gut you' talk I was expecting," I admitted.
"Oh, make no mistake," Violet said, leaning back on her chair. "If you hurt Fallon, we will be looking for places to bury your body."
"After digging out all your organs," Sweet Luna, of all people, piped in.
"You know, Dezi told me that when they autopsy you, they sew your brain back up in your chest?" Violet said, shaking her head. "That's fucked up."
And, really, that was what it was like for the next several hours.
Conversations started linear and pointed, but segued off into fifteen different directions before circling back to the original topic. Not used to that, I felt a bit disoriented as it went on, but after Violet and Hope dug out the alcohol, I loosened up a bit enough to just sit back and enjoy it.
"Look at this shit," Fallon said, walking in many hours, countless drinks, and more pizza than a small group of human beings should have ever been able to put away, later. "Next thing you know, they'll be dragging you to karaoke in Malc's truck," he said, moving inside. "Vi, hey, long time," he went on, grabbing her shoulder to give it a squeeze as he moved past. "You seemed to survive," he said, giving me a smirk.
"You knew?" I hissed, annoyed on principle, even if it had all turned out alright. "You knew, and you didn't warn me?"
"You done fucked up," Hope said, clucking her tongue.
"He needs to be punished," Violet agreed.
"Maybe I should have warned you, so you could have fled, and I could have avoided this," Fallon said, shooting me a smirk as he nudged me to the side to let him drop down, then half-pulling me over his lap. "Figured you would handle this better if you had no idea it was coming," he told me, running his hand across my lower back. "No time to make yourself anxious about it."
"Yeah, it was—" I started before Dezi came walking out of his room, still hunched over to his bad side.
"You were partying without me?" Dezi asked, looking hurt, pressing a tattooed hand to his heart. "Vi, you're back."
"I am. You look like shit," Violet said, shaking her head.
He kind of did. It was strange to see the usually so animated Dezi being slow and careful. His hair was all over the place because he was struggling to raise his hands up to wash or brush it. And he was pale.
"Yeah, well, if he would stop ripping his damn stitches open," I said, giving him raised brows. "He would look a hell of a lot better."
"It was an accident," Dezi insisted.
"Fucking someone is not an accident," I reminded him. "And maybe I'd forgive it the first time, but twice?" I asked. "I heard screaming," I told the girls. "And not the good kind. So I grabbed my gun and went running. Yeah, well, he'd torn his stitches and was bleeding everywhere. Including all over the girl he'd been railing. Who is probably traumatized for life now."
"And now," Dezi said, dropping down on the arm of Violet's chair, "they sicced Brooks on me. He's a tyrant. Won't let a woman within fifty feet of me."