Page 95 of The Heir

“Two things can be possible at once, Blaze. It’s a fact of life, my man.”

“Fuck you,” I laughed, earning a smile from him.

“Ah, fuck. These bastards will be here in a minute. Listen, don’t stand on the wall– Come here.” He motioned for me to move closer to the desk and gave a wild look around. There were two chairs opposite the desk, but he didn’t look interested in them.

“Can you really take that thing apart and put it back together?” he asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” I clipped, without a second thought.

“What abou–”

I reached out and opened and closed my hand, inviting him to place something in it. He handed me a beretta and nodded to the edge of the desk.

“Perch, put the forty-five on the table where you can get to it easily, and work on that thing.” He set the oil out on his desk.

“Am I gonna need it?” I had to push the question out. I was suddenly afraid to ask, and not sure I’d believe him if he answered.

“Never know,” he mumbled, opening up a ledger. “That’s why you don’t leave home without it.”

“Can I ask who we’re expecting?”

“Nick Halstaff with the Rabid Monkeys, Ti–”

“I’m sorry did you just say Rabid Monkeys,” I interrupted him, even if I knew he hated it.

His eyes tightened, but he snorted with amusement rather than bitching, “Yeah, they get pissed when Easy calls them that, so we make sure it sticks. Their patch says Red Monks, they push the red phosphorus shit that keeps the city hoppin’ all night.”

“What red phos–?”

“Oh, Jesus Fuck,” Mak hissed, wiping his face with his hand.

“Blaze— My man,” He groaned, not opening his eyes.

I didn’t really understand his lack of patience, but I pieced together the last part of what he said and asked, “Are you talking about meth?”

“Yes.” He nodded slow and hard, pinning his lips into a thin line. “Now can you never say that word in this establishment again? Thank you.”

“What word? Me–”

“Blaze,” he snapped, like I was playing with a bomb.

“Yeah- Got it, don’t say–”

He punched me in the side of my ass so hard I slid a little.

“Godda–” I laughed, holding my thigh.

“I told you, don’t fuck with me. I ain’t goin’ down for their shit. That is alltheirshit. We do not–” He pumped the air with his hands like he was trying to push the unmentionable drug away.

“You act like there are levels to this shit.” I couldn’t keep the amusement from my tone.

“There are levels to the dope game, Blaze. To think otherwise is to be naive. Do you think the court will set you down the same amount of time for weed as they will coke?”

I shrugged.

“They won't.”

“Marijuana is legal in Illinois.”

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