Vic Vaughn is Vicious by J.A. Huss

CHAPTER THIRTY – DAISY

“What the hell just happened?”

But I’m talking to no one because I’m sitting at the table alone. My eyes immediately go up to Vic, who is still on the stand. He stands up, wide grin on his face, and walks himself back over to the table. I expect someone to stop him—the bailiff, or one of the cops assigned to security, or hell, maybe even the prosecutor. Who wasn’t called into chambers, even though his witness—Lucille the Liar—was.

But no one does. He slides into Alec’s chair next to me. And then… then we’re kissing.

I vaguely notice that Veronica and Spencer are behind us asking questions. But we don’t pull away.

It’s been two weeks and I have missed him so much more than I realized.

It’s a soft kiss. No hands. His are in cuffs, but also I’m thinking getting hands-y in a courtroom is probably bad form.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, but also like no time passed at all, we pull apart. Reluctantly. Foreheads touching.

I speak first. “Are you OK?”

“Fine,” he says, still grinning.

“What was all that up there? Need-to-know?”

“Yeah, well. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you either.”

“So it’s true?”

“Did you see the general who came storming through here?”

I did. But it all feels very surreal. I look over my shoulder and sure enough, his mighty band of escorts—six very big men in a serious kind of uniform—still line the aisle near the door.

“I can give you a hint though,” Vic says. “I’m not a terrorist. It’s just a job that my friend and I kinda fell into because his little brother, Trev”—Vic nods his head towards the soldiers—“is that guy in the middle on the right.”

I look over at the soldier. He does not look at me. Doesn’t even move his eyeballs. But I catch a wink, like he knows we’re watching him. His uniform is special somehow. These men are not wearing fatigues or any other kind of daily uniform one associates with soldiers. They are dressed up in… regalia. That’s the only word I have for it. They have lots of medals on their chests and braided gold cords hanging all over them. They even have swords.

“Who are they?”

“Top-secret shit,” Vic says. “And I’m not being a dick about this, but I don’t actually know what’s going on up in the mountains. All I know is that every once in a while, Bobby gets a phone call and we get our asses up there. We provide high-tech security and land. That’s about it. We don’t even get to watch what the military is doing. Our cameras and drones only scan the perimeter of the property and we have been given permission to shoot after failure to respond to one verbal warning.” He pauses to look me in the eyes. “We haven’t shot anyone. No one comes up there. Or so we thought. Obviously, people know something is up. And by people, I mean Lucille. She’s in a lot of trouble for this court hearing because this general is not fucking around. This is all black-budget stuff. That’s why we get cash.”

“Oh.” I nod. Because things are starting to make sense. “This is where you got the money for the property?”

“Most of it. But never mind that. Those charges are bullshit and that judge is getting his ass handed to him in those chambers as we speak. To be honest though, that general will be screaming at me tonight too. Even though I didn’t do anything wrong, this is a huge fuck-up in his eyes and our easy-cash gig is probably gone now, thanks to Lucille. Why is she being so insane?”

“Oh, my God,” I say, swiping some hair out of my eyes. “She’s trying to steal Vivi! Because she’s jealous that we’re in love.”

Vicious Vaughn grins like a teenage boy. “We’re in love.”

“Mmhmm.” I nod. “We are. And she hates it. She’s trying to steal my life, Vicious. She’s the one who told me you were a bad person back when I was first in school. Remember? She was my TA?”

“I remember. And let me guess. You turned in that sketchbook with the picture of me in it and she lost her mind.”

“How did you know about that picture?”

“Vivi left it at my house. I went snooping.”

“Oh.” I blush. “So you had someone drop Vivi’s backpack off at my house?”

“What?” He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t do that. I was hoping to keep that sketchbook my little secret. I love looking at your drawings.”

“Don’t judge my talent.”

“I think you made me look hot.”

I giggle. “No one has to make you look hot, Vic. But seriously, if you didn’t drop her backpack off, then who did?”

He stares at me for a moment, his smile falling in increments. Then, in a serious tone, he says, “I don’t know. But she’s not going to win.”

“Well.” I huff out some air. “Five minutes ago, I’d have disagreed. But after that whole ‘cease fire’ thing”—we both erupt in laughter—“I can now picture her losing.”

“She’s getting her ass handed to her in chambers too.”

“But why did she freak out like that?”

“I dunno,” he says.

Then the doors bang open again. But this time it’s not a general with a crew of killers. It’s a… biker. He walks right up to us. He even pushes through that little swinging gate thing and sits right down in the third seat where Vic originally was.

I just look at him. But Vic says, “Jeeves. Dude. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’ve been given the go-ahead to let you know that your shit has been taken care of. Courtesy of the Moran clan.” He clicks his tongue against his cheek. “Because we stick together.”

“Sounds like a tagline,” Vic says.

“Yep.”

Veronica and Spencer lean over the railing separating us from the gallery. “What the heck is going on?” Ronnie asks.

“I was just about to ask the same question,” Vic says. He glances over at this biker guy called Jeeves. And then it clicks into place.

I point at him. “Jackalope guy.”

He pretends to take off a hat and bow. “At your service.”

“All right, spill, Jeeves. What did you guys do?”

He shrugs. “We’re recalling the mayor.”

“What?” I chuckle.

“That’s right. Started the paperwork this morning. There are a few more administrative steps before you actually get to the collecting signatures part, but we skipped ahead. Figured, what the hell, right? Might as well let that threat sink in. So we rallied the town.”

“What town?” Vic asks.

“This town, you moron.”

“I hope you didn’t tell anyone this is for me. This town fucking hates my guts.”

“Aw. You’re so sensitive, Vicious. Look here.” And then he pulls out his phone, taps on it, and a video starts playing of a huge crowd in downtown Fort Collins. “Who’s that?” Jeeves points to a man on the screen.

Vic squints. Then takes the phone and puts it right up to his face. “Is that Pops? And my brothers? What are they doing?”

“Free tattoos if you collect fifty signatures before five o’clock today.”

“Is that even legal?” I ask.

Jeeves looks me straight in the eyes. “No one cares if it’s legal. We’re just here to make a point. If the mayor’s witch of a wife wants to threaten private citizens for her own personal vendetta, then private citizens will threaten her for their own personal vendettas back. And now they know their place.”

“How many signatures did you get?” Vic asks.

Jeeves grins big. “Over twenty thousand so far today. We only needed twelve thousand. The entire city council is shitting their pants right now. And that general?” Jeeves nods his head. “Nice touch, Vic. Nice touch.”

“All rise!” the bailiff calls.

“That’s my cue,” Jeeves says. Then he tips his imaginary hat to me again and walks back out of the courtroom just as the judge, the general, Alec, and Lucille exit chambers.

The judge doesn’t even sit down. He picks up his gavel and yells, “Case dismissed,” and then walks back into his chambers.