Chapter Thirteen
Prince's eyes connected with clear blue eyes fogged in a haze of smoke. He'd known those eyes for most of his life. He'd seen them glint with triumph as Chief took down a bully twice his size for daring to extort kids on the playground for their lunch money. Prince had seen those eyes sparkle with false sincerity as he assured first one and then another girl that his feelings were true and solely for her. Prince had seen those eyes narrow with focus as he stood side by side, ready to back him if anyone dared cross his closest friend.
"What's up, brother?" Chief drawled.
Prince's jaw tightened as he looked down at Chief lounging back with smoke swirling around his head like a crown. There was a small smile on the man's lips that belied casualness. Prince knew Chief was alert and ready to strike at any moment.
They studied each other. Prince noted that Chief looked the same as the last time he'd seen his friend over a year ago. Same shock of red hair. Same devil may care grin. And just like old times, he held a joint in his hand.
Chief wore his Baztards MC President kutte in the warm evening air. The cut off jacket made Prince feel tight and stuffy in his tailored suit. His VP jacket was in the back of his closet at home where it had hung since the last time they'd rode over a year ago.
"Are you trying to get arrested?" Prince pointed to the joint. "That's felony possession and distribution in your hand on government owned land."
"Relax," said the other man. Prince recognized him as the governor's son, Russell Drummon. "I have a medicinal license for this hypoglycemia in my eyes."
"Do you mean glaucoma?" Gabby offered.
Russell frowned, and then a full five seconds later, he snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that's what it's called. I've been having a shit of a time remembering. I kept saying guacamole for a while."
"But you don't have eye problems," Prince turned his attention back to Chief.
"No, dad, I don't." Chief took a leisurely pull of the joint before passing it on to the governor's son. "What are you gonna do? Arrest your brother for partaking of an ancient ritual of healing with his fellow man?"
"Whoa," said Russell as he blew an O of smoke from his lips, looking at Chief with admiration. "That's like some deep, shaman shit."
"I should," said Prince, ignoring the half-baked blond kid and focusing on Chief. "Then you would finally realize there are consequences to your actions."
"Like jail?" said Chief. "Been there, done that. And I ain't going back. Besides, his pop's gonna legalize it."
"Oh, no," said Russell with a slight cough. "That's never going to happen. He just said that at his one and only college rally. The conservatives that surround him will never let weed fly. Especially not that holy man Chief of taff, Voigt. My dad's an old, rich, privileged asshole." Russell took another hit and spoke around the smoke he exhaled. "He's not progressive despite his number of marriages and philandering."
"I've heard Pastor Voigt's congregation is pretty exclusive," said Chief.
Chief's tone was casual as he turned his attention back to Russell. Prince knew better. He was up to something. Chief liked to play the charmer, but he was as sneaky as a snake when it mattered to him.
"Some of the members have been linked to the Klan." Chief took a toke as he leaned back, eyes on Prince as though to challenge him to either take the joint away or take a hit.
"You haven't heard the half of it," said Russell. "Dad dragged me to a sermon once. Totally killed my buzz with all the BS Voigt spewed. I think my dad fell asleep in the pews."
"BS like what?" Chief asked.
"Does his son attend the church?" asked Prince.
Russell screwed his face in concentration as he looked between the two men. Two questioners were obviously too much for the stoner to handle.
Voices sounded inside. A voice much like the pastor and father in question. Chief handed the half-smoked joint back to Russell.
"Sounds like it's time to go," said Chief.
Prince took Gabby's hand and followed Chief towards the stairs off the deck that led down into a yard.
"Wait," called Russell. "Did I pass initiation? Am I a Baztard now?"
Chief tossed a grin over his shoulder as he took the stairs. "You definitely are bastard material. But I gotta check with the other guys. We're a democracy. Give me a call next week and I'll let you know the vote."
"But I don't have your number," called Russell.
"Sure you do," said Chief. "I gave it to you. Remember?"
"Oh," drawled Russell as he put the joint to his lips. "Right."
Once they were all down the stairs and making their way across the yard towards the front of the house, Prince let go of Gabby's hand and went in on Chief.
"What the hell was that?" Prince asked.
Chief didn't slow his stride. "Someone graffitied the community center."
That pulled Prince up short. The center was under Baztard protection, had been since the two of them were kids and hung out there.
"I'm trying to figure out who," Chief continued. "Nobody from the neighborhood would dare."
"What did it say?" asked Gabby.
"There was a swastika, and…" Chief pursed his lips. "The words 'Take your taco trucks back to Mexico.'"
There were a lot of kids of Hispanic origin at the community center. The majority of them were from El Salvador, not Mexico. But the message was clear and would deliver a devastating blow to the children who sought a safe place at the center.
"You think it was someone from the governor's camp?" asked Prince. "Or the Henchmen?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out." Chief turned his gaze to Gabby who stood pensively beside Prince. "What about you? Gabby-Gabs finally roped you into playing house for real?"
"No, he's still resisting my charms," said Gabby. She grinned, leaning into Prince's side like she belonged there.
"He has his business face on," Chief nodded at Prince, but still addressing Gabby. "So I'm guessing this outing isn't about pleasure."
"Crow was in an accident," said Gabby.
Playtime left Chief's face, and he turned serious. "He okay?"
Gabby nodded. "Prince thinks it was personal. The guy who did it is the son of the Governor's Chief of Staff. We were hoping he'd be here tonight, but he wasn't."
"Roman Voigt?" Chief addressed this question to Prince, who nodded. "President of the Henchmen MC?"
Prince nodded again.
"So they're fucking around in our front and backyard," Chief growled.
"Watch your language around Gabby," snarled Prince.
Chief turned his gaze to Gabby and looked her up and down. "You do realize she's a grown woman now. Or has D.C. blinded you?"
"I'm not blind," said Prince. "I see the bag of weed in your pocket and that you're strapped."
"Fuck yeah, I'm strapped. And my gun license is in my back pocket."
"Carrying a gun during a drug sale can get you seven years."
"I wasn't selling, I was sharing."
But Prince ignored his friend. "You keep putting me in these situations."
"It had nothing to do with you."
"That's why I left. You think I want to be the bastard to bust my best friend? You fucked up what we built."
"No," said Chief. "That was you. I'm still here holding shit down while you're out playing cops and robbers."
"You know what? Fuck you."
"No, fuck you."
Prince held up his middle finger. "Put this in your pipe and smoke it."
Chief grinned and backed off. "You know what, I will." Chief headed through the maze of cars and found his bike. He hopped on, turned the engine over. When he took off, it was with one middle finger in the air.
Prince ground his teeth as he watched the man retreat into the night. Then he turned back to Gabby. "Come on, I'll take you home."