Page 16 of Minus

“Come see for yourself,” he said, producing a set of keys from his kutte pocket, and tossing them to me.

“What the fuck are these?”

“They’re keys, shithead. Come on,” he said.

I grabbed the coffee and handed the iPad back to Clutch. “I still haven’t agreed to help you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, and I followed him out to the garage. Clutch hit the lights, and I could see his old shovelhead parked next to a brand-new Harley Davidson Fat Boy.

“You get a new bike?” I asked.

“Fuck, no! I could never replace Charlene,” he exclaimed. “That one’s yours. Grover and Socks brought it over this morning.”

“Please tell me they didn’t steal this for me?”

“No, you idiot, it’s a gift from Cutter. There’s a card around here somewhere, too.”

“A card? What is this? A fuckin’ Hallmark moment?”

“I dunno, man. After all the shit Cutter said last night, all fuckin’ bets are off. Maybe he’s goin’ soft because he’s dying.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I replied.

“Well, you can ask him yourself in twenty minutes.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Because we’re going to see him.”

“Seriously?” I groaned.

“Yup. Cutter told me last night before I left that he wanted us at the Sanctuary by ten o’clock this morning. I let you sleep in as long as I could, but we’ve gotta go. You know how the Prez gets when we’re late.”

“You’re killin’ me, brother. I’m not fully functional yet. I haven’t even finished my coffee.”

In truth, I was going to need a lot more than coffee to clear my head. What the fuck was up with this bike? Whywas I suddenly at the top of Santa Cutter’s nice list? Was the bike really a gift, or was it some sort of bribe? Either way, I was parking it on Cutter’s front lawn when I left, which would be very soon I hoped.

“Slam that coffee down or put it in a to-go cup, but we gotta go,” Clutch said, and got on his bike.

I had to admit, even as fuzzy as I was, the Fat Boy looked deadly as hell. It was completely murdered out. Every piece that would normally be shiny chrome, was instead finished in flat black. I slugged down the remaining contents of the cup and grabbed the helmet sitting on top of the seat.

“You gonna be able to get that brain bucket over your swollen mug?” Clutch asked.

My head was pounding so hard from last night’s partying, I’d momentarily forgotten about the mouse under my eye, and who’d given it to me.

“That’s strange,” I said, before pausing.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t remember one of the books I sent you while you were locked up being a joke book,” I replied.

“Here’s a joke for you. Knock, knock…”

“Who’s there?”

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