Josh

 

 

“Women love you, College Boy,” Skeeze shouts at me over the din of the bar.

Friday night has the place packed, and while Raw and I are done dealing scripts for the night – my strict No-Business-After-Midnight Rule in full affect – the weed business is still booming. Skeeze has a small, black duffel bag next to him in the booth and he’s been dealing out of it all evening. In the month since we went into business together, the Due have seen a spike in sales. Mostly college kids.

I would be getting a cut of their profits, if fair was fair.

“Not as much as I’d like,” I mutter into my beer.

Skeeze snorts. “Oh, boo-fuckin’-hoo, bro. You could slam any piece of ass in this bar tonight, but you won’t because you’re a pussy.”

“How am I a pussy?”

“You never go for it.”

“He’s got a point,” Raw agrees lazily. He’s sitting in the curve of the booth, his arms slung over the back as he surveys the club. “I’ve seen women throw themselves at you and you don’t do jack about it.”

“You’ve seen girls try to pay me for product with sex,” I argue. “That’s not exactly women falling in love with me.”

“That’s your fuckin’ problem, Romeo. You’re looking for love. That shit doesn’t exist.”

“What’s your problem with trading trim for product?” Skeeze asks. “You above paying for it?”

“A little bit, yeah. You guys aren’t?”

Raw shrugs. “I don’t know. If I was hard up enough and I had coin in my pocket, I’d pay to get off. Sometimes you just gotta scratch that itch, you know?”

“I’ve paid for it,” Skeeze answers unapologetically. “But I paid for the good stuff. Like, the whole experience.”

“What kind of experience?” I ask curiously.

Raw shakes his head. “You don’t want to ask him that.”

“I hired a dominatrix,” Skeeze tells me proudly.

“Oh damn,” I breathe. “You went whips and chains and everything?”

“Whips, yeah. Chains, no. She tied me up and tortured me for an hour.” He smiles blissfully. “Best hour of my damn life.”

“Sexually tortured you or POW tortured you?”

“Both.”

“Christ.”

“Don’t judge, man. We all got our kinks. You’ve got yours, you just haven’t told us what it is yet.”

I don’t think that’s true; I don’t have a kink. I have an obsession, that’s for sure. And I’m looking right at her.

Harlow is behind the bar tonight. She knows I’m here but she hasn’t run off like she likes to do lately. I don’t think she can. The place is packed, the girls and even Hyde is behind the bar serving drinks. It’s a rare thing for one of the boys to jump in and help out. They have to be desperate for more hands to make it happen and as it is tonight, Hyde does not look happy. He’s handling all the beer orders. If you ask him for a mixed drink, you’re getting a stern look and an eerie silence until you walk that shit back and order a Coors.

“You better get some and soon,” Skeeze warns me. “Otherwise people are going to start thinking you’re a fag.”

“And what if I am?” I ask seriously.

Skeeze looks at me for a long time, his face unsure. He glances at Raw for help but he doesn’t find any. Raw is checking out the bar again, acting like he can’t hear this conversation.

“Ar—are you?” Skeeze stutters uncertainly.

I wink at him, taking a sip of my beer.

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“That depends. How open to kink are you, Skeeze?”

“Not that fuckin’ open!”

Raw snickers, unable to contain his laughter.

I crack a smile to let Skeeze off the hook. “I’m not gay, man. I’m messing with you.”

He punches me hard on the shoulder. “Fuck you!”

I laugh, falling away to dodge another swing. “Stop hitting me!”

“I’ll break your goddamn face again, pretty boy.”

“Easy, Skeezey. You’re coming off a little homophobic.”

“Hell yeah, I’m homophobic! Proud of it!”

“He hates Jews too,” Raw tells me dryly.

“I don’t hate them. I just don’t trust them.”

“Yeah, that’s better.”

“You guys are assholes.”

Raw’s normally sedate expression darkens as he looks to the door. “Speaking of assholes,” he growls.

I sit up straight to look over the crowd. The door is open. A cold wind rushes through the muggy air inside the bar. With it comes a group of guys all dressed in black riding gear. Yellow bandanas are wrapped around heads and arms. A young guy barely older than I am turns around, checking out the club. On his back I catch a glimpse of ornate writing surrounding a large, angry bird sewn in black with sickly, violent yellow eyes. Black Hawks M.C. Culver, Nevada wraps in a circle around it, trying and failing to contain the bird of prey.

“Fuck, not tonight,” Skeeze mutters. He immediately shoves the bag to the floor, kicking it under the seat and out of sight.

“Are they a problem?” I ask tightly.

Raw is already standing, leaving the booth. “They’re a gang of meth heads from Culver who have tried for years to edge us out of the weed sales in the area. They’re pretty much our only problem.”

Across the club, Hyde is slowly moving out from behind the bar. His eyes are latched onto the group still hovering near the door. The crowd inside feels the shift in the air, the tension between the two gangs, and movement across the room slows to a crawl. Lila has disappeared from behind the bar. My guess is she’s in the backroom getting the rest of the boys. Luckily, they’re all here tonight. Everyone but Bear.

I follow Skeeze and Raw through the crowd toward the door. Hyde hovers closer to the front, flanking the group.

An older guy, short and balding with a yellow bandana wrapped around his temples, smiles thinly when he sees us coming. “Looks like you got a full house tonight.”

“Too full,” Raw tells him coldly. “Club’s at capacity. Sorry, guys.”

“Really? It doesn’t look that full.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“I need to have a conversation with Bear.”

“Bear isn’t here. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“You tryin’ to get rid of me?”

He shrugs, like he doesn’t give a shit about any of this. “Why would you want to stay?”

“Maybe I’m enjoying the charm of this backwater shithole you call home.”

Hyde takes a large step forward, closing in on their right. “Open wide, you toothless fuck. I’ll show you charm.”

The man’s eyes darken dangerously. “Watch your mouth when you’re talking to The Black Hawks, boy.”

“Boy?”

“Who are you? Where’s your VP?”

“Right here,” Kill answers quietly. Even low, his voice booms like a bass line through the bar. He thumps heavily into the room until he’s nearly toe to toe with the much shorter, smaller, older man. “If you wanna talk to me, we talk outside.”

The Black Hawk tries to look nonchalant as he nods, turning toward the door. He doesn’t want his actions to look like a retreat, but when you’re staring up at Kill, your body screams at you to run. I don’t care how badass you think you are. Instincts are there to save your life and Kill looks like a big murder machine bearing down on you.

“Run, run, run, little bitch,” Hyde sings quietly behind the men.

“Hyde,” Devo cautions, his voice measured and low.

Hyde rolls his head to the side, stretching his neck. Veins stand out starkly under his skin, throbbing with anger and adrenaline. He looks like a bomb about to go off.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I follow without thought. Without debate. Skeeze sees me coming out the door behind him. He hesitates just a half a second before shoving the door open for me. It’s all the invitation I need.

As I pass through the doorway, I glance over my shoulder at the bar. Harlow is there, watching me. Her face is tight with worry, her eyes pleading for something I can’t understand. But no matter what she wants, this is something I have to do, so I nod to her stiffly and let the door slam shut between us.

It’s dark out, the neon on the front of the building brighter than the moon and stars combined. It paints the world in retina searing orange and red that runs down the faces of the men gathered on the gravel. Each group forms a sort of arrow with Kill and the old guy at the heads.

“Why are you here, Styx?” Kill asks point blank.

Styx looks up at him, trying to play it off like it’s not that hard to do. “I’ve got this situation back home. We’re having a little trouble with our trade.”

“Why is that my problem?”

“I’m not sure it is yet. But nothing’s changed in Culver. No new sellers are cutting into our territory. No new product is hitting the street without our say so. But somehow our profits are dropping off.”

“Maybe people are getting clean,” Devo suggests.

“All at once? In the span of a couple weeks?”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t know a lot of meth heads. I don’t exactly know how they tick.”

“They like getting high. They love it. That’s why it’s weird that all of the sudden we’re not seeing as much action as we used to. It has us talking to our friends in other clubs, asking if they have any answers for us. If they can maybe think of something new that might have our buyer’s attention.”

“Like what, for instance?”

“Aliens?” Hyde guesses. “Big Foot? No, no, no. I got it. Stranger Things. That show is sick. You don’t have to be high to go on that trip.”

Styx jerks his head toward Hyde, addressing Kill. “Can you shut him the fuck up?”

“Would if I could.”

“We aren’t dealing meth,” Devo tells Styx plainly.

“You sure about that?”

“It’s not our MO. But even if we were and it was somehow fucking up your flow up there in Culver, that wouldn’t be our problem. Opal is our turf. We can do whatever we want down here. If you got a problem with that, you better set up a meeting with Bear instead of showing up unannounced, but I’ll tell you something; he’ll tell you the same thing I am. We don’t give a shit how our business affects yours.”

Styx stares at Devo silently. He doesn’t like that answer. The tension between the two tribes escalates in the stillness between us, rising like waves of heat on asphalt.

For the first time since I started hanging with this crew, I wish I’d brought my gun.

“Like Raw said in the club,” Kill tells Styx patiently. Heavily. “I’ll tell Bear you were here.”

“You do that,” Styx spits angrily. He signals his men with one jerk of his hand. They immediately disband, heading for their bikes like a line of trained soldiers.

The Due hold their huddled formation. They watch stoically as The Black Hawks mount their bikes, taking to the road.

Heading straight into Opal.

“Fuck,” Kill growls. He pulls out his phone, making a call from speed dial.

Devo turns to face the group, frowning when his eyes meet mine. “What the fuck are you doing out here, Strat?”

Skeeze steps up for me. “He had our back the second they walked in the bar. I figured another body wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“Bear,” Kill says sternly into his phone. “We got a problem. Black Hawks came into the bar looking for trouble. They’re headed your way.”

My stomach knots painfully, like a punch to my gut. I turn to Raw to see my own worry in his eyes.

“Isn’t Ava—”

“She’s at Bear’s, yeah,” he interrupts grimly. “They fuck with him and they’re fucking with my daughter.”

Raw is ready to kill in that moment. He’s such a chill guy, I’ve never seen his rage before, but it’s obvious now. His shoulders are squared, his face rigid, his hands loose and fluid at his sides, ready for a fight. He’s a soldier prepped for war. He’s a weapon ready to be fired.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold on.” Kill hits a button on his phone. The speaker comes alive as he holds it up and out for to hear.

Bear’s voice bursts thin but commanding over the small speakers.

“Close up early,” he says immediately. “Get everyone out of there and put the place on lockdown. No one leaves tonight. None of you, none of the girls. And definitely not Stratford. Do you hear me, kid?”

I step forward so he can hear me better. “Yeah, I hear you, Bear.”

“They know our faces. You’re new and so is this dip in their sales. They’ll put two and two together. If you go home tonight, you’ll lead them straight to our stash and Raw can’t get that shit back from the Black Hawks.”

“I’d be happy to try,” Raw vows.

“I bet you would, but I’d rather you stayed alive. So would Ava.”

Raw’s jaw clenches tightly. “How is she?”

“Fast asleep.” Kill’s hand is buffeted by the wind, Bear’s big voice warbling across the current. “Angela already has her down in the cellar. If these assholes show up, she’ll never know they were here.”

He nods solemnly. “Thanks, Bear.”

“Family first, Raw. You know that. Get some sleep tonight. We’ll expect you at first light.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’ll ride with him,” Skeeze offers.

“Me too,” Devo agrees.

Kill snorts. “You all are jumpin’ ship and leaving me here to manage a bunch of bitches?”

“Hyde will help hold down the fort,” Devo reminds him. “And you’ve got Strat.”

“He’s not even carrying.”

“Put a gun in my hand and I will be,” I tell him defensively.

Kill narrows his eyes at me. “You can handle a piece?”

“I have one at home. I just don’t roll with it.”

“Stupid move.”

“This is the first time it’s been an issue.”

“Really? It wasn’t an issue a couple weeks ago when you got your face kicked in?”

I feel like hitting him. It comes out of nowhere but the idea is so satisfying I actually have to stop myself from taking a step toward him. From getting myself killed for my pride.

“Strap him,” Bear barks from the phone. “He’s a friend of the club and what went down tonight concerns him. And we could use the extra manpower. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Kill grunts.

“Hold tight. Keep the girls safe. The Black Hawks aren’t going to do anything tonight. They want to scare us. They want us to know that they know we’re up to something, but it’s none of their goddamn business what.”

Devo nods, his eyes on the ground. His hands clenched tightly together. “Yeah, Bear. We got it.”

“Good. I’ll see you boys in the morning.”

He disconnects the call without waiting for a reply.

Kill breaks the ensuing silence with a sharp snap. “You fuckin’ heard him! Get this club cleared and lock it down!”