“Why the fuck did that sentence start with SPEAKING OF TITS?” King asked, tacking his sketch onto a board beside the window and glaring at me like I just told him I fingered her in his bed.
“’Cause your girl was up there feeding your kid. She was in the living room. Calm down dude, it’s not like I saw nip or anything.”
“You’re starting to sound like Preppy,” King said. “And the only reason why you’re not dead right now is because you are about to tell me that you covered your eyes, turned your ass around and walked right out the fucking door when you realized she had her tit out.”
“Sure. Sounds good. That’s exactly what happened,” I said sarcastically. “But seriously you got any weed? I’m out and I need it for something.”
“Like getting high?” King asked.
Smartass.
“Yes, motherfucker, like getting high. But it’s not for me, it’s for Ti. She asked me why I was doing blow and I told her to check out of reality for a bit and she surprised me by begging me for it so she could forget too, I damn near gave in.”
I neglected to tell him that I also needed it to apologize for tonguing her down without finishing. For promising to help her forget and instead running away right when I was getting to the good part.
“Why didn’t you let her? Never seen you stop a girl from a good time before,” King said.
“I didn’t have any left, but it didn’t feel right anyway. She’s not some club whore.”
“You finally decided she’s not out to get you?” King asked.
“I guess not.”
“You figure out what to do with her yet?”
“Plan hasn’t changed. And I made a call which should help.”
“What kind of call?” King asked, eyeing me warily.
“Bethany Fletcher,” I admitted.
“Wow.”
“Can’t call club lawyers, they don’t work for me any more. Figure if I can get Ti off the hook for shooting her parents then I can sneak her out of here and drop her off far enough away where the MC won’t ever look for her.”
“I still can’t believe you called Bethany,” King said.
“When you’re at war with the devil sometimes you gotta dial up a demon,” I said.
“Hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
I had no fucking clue.
King walked over to the wall where a big painting of a melting clock hung from the ceiling to the floor. He shifted the painting, revealing a hidden safe. He turned the dial and when he opened it there was another safe inside, this one requiring a code.
“You want me to wait while you dig a key out from the backyard to open safe number three?” I asked.
“Fuck off,” King said. “Got kids running around here now. Things are different. Can’t have shit everywhere like we used to.”
It was hard to imagine King, a man who did what he wanted his entire life without giving two shits if it was right or wrong, sneaking off at night to get high in the garage after the kids went night night.
“My mom did everything and everyone in front of me,” he continued. “I don’t want that for my kids. Want them not knowing about the bad shit. Want them believing in Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and the goddamn tooth fairy until they’re fucking forty.”
“Why?” I asked, not understanding what he was trying to get at.
“’Cause they’re kids. Want them to just be kids. Play with toy guns and not have to worry about using the real deal before they’re old enough to drive. I want their biggest worry to be about whether we’re having pizza or hot dogs for dinner. You and me? We didn’t get the chance to be kids. It was stolen from us by our shit parents, and instead of a childhood we were given a big plate of harsh fucking reality. Not gonna do that to them. I won’t.”
Since I’d gotten back to Logan’s Beach I was under the assumption that King had gotten soft, but I was wrong. Wanting to protect his kids didn’t make him soft. It made him even more fucking crazy, just in a different way.
Because he had a different purpose.
“You’ll get it one day. You’ll have your own to worry about, and then you’ll realize that the psycho you thought you were, the one no one was stupid enough to fuck with, should be very fucking afraid of the psycho you will become to protect your family.”
“Right now I can’t see past tomorrow, never mind that far into the future. My days are numbered anyway. The MC is gunning for me the second I step out onto their turf. May not live long enough to knock someone up.”
King tossed me a small ziplock bag and I shoved it into my back pocket. He closed the safe and leaned against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d turned into a big fucking * while you were gone.”
“Fuck you,” I spat.
“The old Bear would have phrased that shit differently. Tell me something, man. You still want it? The gavel? Because a few months ago you said you didn’t want it yet you’re wandering around here like you’re a lost fucking puppy dog.”
“Now the answer is ‘I don’t know,’” I said honestly. “Been asking myself the same fucking thing.”