“What about my brothers?”
“Let foster care deal with them. They ain’t babies. Let your lazy mom get a fucking job. You’re only prolonging the inevitable. Just walk away and save yourself.”
His words make so much sense. Still angry, I refuse to consider tomorrow. I look at Lucky and hear him tell me how he’s returning to his home in Arkansas.
“Wanna come along?” he asks.
“If I say yes, what do you get out of it?”
Lucky leans back in his chair and scratches at his graying beard. “When you hit that dipshit with the rock, it made me laugh. I needed a laugh and life sent you. I figure I take you somewhere new as a way to say thanks.”
“You’ll probably kill me,” I say, eyeing Lucky. “I’ll end up in a shallow grave or in a crawlspace under your house.”
“My old lady wouldn’t like me putting a dead chick under our house. She’s real particular about smells.”
Wrapping my dark blonde hair into a bun, I smile. “What about the shallow grave?”
Lucky finishes his coffee and sighs. “I won’t lie and say I’m a good guy who’s never dug a grave. I can promise you it was never a hole fit for a girl.”
When he stands up, I realize I need to decide this second. No thinking over my options. He’s leaving town now. I can stay or I can go. I can stay stuck where I’m at or I can do something else. Like most impulsive people, I’m attracted to anything shiny and new. The future Lucky offers me is just that.
4
Ford
Rivers of Blood
Suede isn’t much to look at from the outside. A lot of people think it’s a gay bar because of the name and the blue lights around the sign.
Not just anyone can walk through the front door of Suede. From five to one, Joker’s little brother Dimples works the door. Big and dumb, the guy isn’t good for anything else.
Tonight, Dimples is on the phone with his old lady who’s tearing him a new one. Pax laughs at the sound of the bouncer’s voice.
“Never getting whipped,” Pax says, sealing his fate.
I wonder if Pax will make it to the end of the year without whining to a woman for a second chance. Life is like that. First, you tell it what you will and won’t do. Then, life tells you what is really gonna happen.
I never make such threats. I roll with the life before me. Up or down, good or bad, I don’t care. I make my bed and lie in it. Don’t whine. Never look back. Just let things happen.
Hell, I’m thinking this when we reach Joker’s table. Of course, now that I’ve claimed to have it all figured out, life is bound to kick me in the balls. I know my wakeup call will be painful since fate wears steel tipped boots.
“How’s Nick feeling?” Joker asks, grinning.
The Little Memphis club VP has a nice guy vibe. You want someone to pick you up at the airport, why not ask old Joker? He’s a pal. That’s the lie anyway.
“My guess is his old lady took him to the hospital where they’ve pumped him full of morphine. If that’s the case, the fucker ain’t feeling nothing.”
Pax grins. “Morphine wears off.”
I share my brother’s smile as we turn our chairs around and sit down leaning against the backs. Joker has a laptop out and papers spread over the table. He’s like a rough-looking, yet ordinary businessman. I don’t know what he’s doing with all those papers. Don’t care either. I signed up to be an enforcer. It’s not my job to know the little details. I don’t want to manage shit. Just give me a guy to break and I’m in my zone.
“Nick is a symptom of a bigger problem,” Joker says, taking a swig of beer. “Folks in Little Memphis ain’t loyal and they have short memories. They don’t care about what you did for them yesterday. They only respect the big dog that’ll rip their throats out in the next few minutes. Once they smell weakness, they test management to see if there’s a hole in our armor.”
“Lot of fucking imagery there, boss,” I say, taking a beer from the waitress, Livie. “How bad off is Trigger?”
Joker is a bear of a guy. Jovial with a beard and happy eyes. Our president is lean and dark in every way. He shadows everyone around him. His voice is a rumble. I know he’s charming with the ladies, but I only saw a humorless fucker who killed enough men to end up on top.
Trigger never tells people his life story. He doesn’t have a past. Not even a fucking childhood. Trigger was born a full grown scary asshole and he won’t tell you anything different. Some people said he was a demon, after he survived getting shot so many times over the year. The guy was unkillable.
Well until he didn’t watch his fucking cholesterol and ended up with a double coronary. Even demons get old apparently.