Page 120 of Driftwood Daffodil 3

I looked around the pleather seats and cracked linoleum floor, to the cigarette in Daryl’s mouth, then back at my customer. “And you came here for that?”

“It says home cooking on the sign outside.”

“Yeah,” I eyed him. “It also says Texas BBQ.”

If that wasn’t false advertising, then I didn’t know what was.

“Fantastic.” He slapped his hand down on the table. “I love me some BBQ.”

That’s when I noticed the Lost Souls tattooed on his arm, right under a naked girl on a bike. While I admired the detailon the girl’s nipples, I was not impressed with the MC logo. It appeared as if my brother carried through with his threat.

Damnit Kato.

“Well,” Wild Dog clapped his hands. “How about some of that BBQ?”

“I’ll get right on that, right after you tell my brother to back off.”

The smile fell off his face. “What gave me away? Was it the tattoos?”

That’s what he thought the problem was? “Among other things.”

“No, you idjit,” Annie reached across the table to slap his arm. “It was your creepy psycho smile.”

Now, Annie understood the flaw in his disguise. If what he was doing could be considered a disguise. They could’ve at least parked the bikes around the corner.

“My smile wasn’t psycho.” Wild Dog looked at me. “It was nice, right?”

“Sure, if you were planning to take me out back and skin me alive.”

“See.” Annie sang at him. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”

“Your plan was worse than mine.” He turned my way. “What’s more believable, that my sister is some rich bitch that drives a Volvo, or that we are customers?”

“You’re asking me what I’d believe more, that you came in here to eat, or that she is some rich soccer mom?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

Let’s see. Annie had grease on her shoulder, a tear in her shirt, and a really bad wig. So…

“Definitely the rich soccer mom.” No one would willingly eat here.

“Damn,” Wild Dog shook his head. “Looks like I owe you ten bucks.”

“Pay up,” Annie held out her hand.

Okay…

“Well, you two have fun with that,” I turned around and waved over my shoulder. “I’ve got work to do.”

And by work I meant rearm myself for the next round of condiment wars.

“Hey,” Wild Dog called after me. “What about our food?”

“Oh, you don’t want to eat here, but there’s a food truck down the block by the park.”

“A food truck hey?” He looked at Annie, who looked at him. After which they gave a nod to each other and walked out.

Daryl shook his head as I walked back around the counter. “Stop sending people to the food truck.”

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