“Yeah, I do,” Colt said. Greg was a wannabe biker, with a crappy little motorcycle and a bad attitude. He had stolen some money from the Vipers, hoping to make a name for himself. Instead, it had just gotten him sent to the hospital and banished from Happy once he could walk without crutches.
“He’s back in town,” Davey said. Davey’s real name was Michael, and Colt had no idea how he had come to be called Davey. Davey was a big man, ten years older and fifty pounds heavier. He wore his hair long and had massive sideburns that wrapped down to his chin before stopping.
“Where’s he at?” Colt asked. “Who were you talking to?”
“One of the River Horses saw him, wanted to know if he was still supposed to be gone.”
“He’s always supposed to be gone,” Colt said. “Where is he?”
“Rosebud Apartments,” Davey said, and Colt grinned. That was where Sherry lived, and since it was Sunday, there was a good chance she would be home. He knew roughing up a snot-nosed punk would get him riled up, and if she were there to help him come down from a fighter’s high, all the better. He wanted the woman, and he would get her.
That was a problem, though. He really didn’t want a woman, not in the long term. He had just had a taste of that, and it had been too much for him. He had tried to be good in the relationship, had tried to stay faithful, but it all went against his nature. And then the woman, a beautiful Latina named Christina, had started making demands, and Colt had called it all off.
But he wanted Sherry, and he would get her, and then he could be done with it. Fucking her didn’t mean he needed anything else.
“Let’s go pay Greg a visit,” Colt said, and he went to get dressed.
By the time Colt and Davey rolled into town, they had been joined by two other Vipers, a strong black man called Blade and a skinny bald white man they called Wizard. They rode their noisy machines over to the apartments and pulled to a stop in front of them.
“You got an apartment number?” Colt asked Davey, but he shook his head.
“Got to do it the hard way,” Davey said.
“I like the hard way,” Wizard said, speaking up as they made their way into the building. Colt knocked on the first door they came to. After a moment, a little old lady opened the door.
“You know a guy named Greg?” Colt asked. The old woman shook her head, and the bikers moved on to the next door. Eventually they found Greg himself after knocking on a door upstairs. He opened the door, his eyes went wide, and he tried to slam it shut, but Colt was already stepping forward, wedging his foot against the door so it wouldn’t shut. Greg gave up trying to shut it and turned and ran, heading into his small apartment and through to his bedroom. He slammed the door shut and locked it just before Colt could grab the doorknob and force it open.
“Come on, Greggy,” Colt called from the other side of the door. “Don’t make me break the door down.”
Sherry didn’t know her neighbor well. He was a young guy who looked too skinny, and he always had dark circles under his eyes. When he smiled at her, and he usually did, she always saw his missing tooth, the rest of which were yellow. Still, he was a nice guy, always offering to carry groceries for her if he saw her hefting them up the stairs. She could never remember if his name was George or Greg, but on Sunday morning, while she was watching TV and drinking coffee in her living room, she heard someone on the other side of the wall yelling his name and pounding on something.
Sherry set her mug on the coffee table in front of her and went to her door. She opened it a crack and peeked out into the hall, but she saw no one. She hesitated. She could tell Greg’s door was open ten feet down the hall to her left, right next to the stairs. And the banging and yelling was coming from inside. She could hear Greg, pleading for someone to stop, and then there would be sickening thuds that she was pretty sure was fists slamming into Greg’s body and face.
And then she heard a voice she recognized, and she made up her mind. She swung her door open and marched out into the hallway, over to Greg’s open doorway. Inside was Colt and three of his friends. They were all wearing their little vests with the snake and skull on the back. Colt was standing over Greg in the living room, holding him up by the collar of his T-shirt. Greg’s face looked like a pile of hamburger meat: shapeless and red.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sherry asked, and the men turned and looked at her.
“Mind your business, lady,” Wizard said, but Colt let go of Greg and turned to face her.
“Hey, I forgot you lived here,” he said slyly.
“I doubt that,” Sherry said. “What are you doing?”
“He stole from us. We told him not to come back. Here he is,” Colt said, as if that were a good reason to be beating the life out of someone.
“Leave him alone. He’s my neighbor.”
“I’ll tell you what: Let me take you out for a ride tonight, and I’ll let it slide with Greg here.”