Page 23 of Johny B

“Sorry, Jackson. Playtime is over. I gotta get back to work.” The rest of the guys start finishing off their beers, grabbing keys, cigarette packets, lighters and anything else they’d left on the round table nearby.

“You all work together?” Mal gives me a curt nod. “What is it that you all do at this late time?” Immediately, I’m hit with an icy stare, his friendly exterior stripped away with that simple question.

“Why you ask?” he steps up a little closer, his hackles up as if ready for a fight.

“Hey, no reason other than I’m looking for work myself,” I hold my hands up defensively, despite my need to cave his arrogant face in. “Didn’t mean to get all up in your business.”

“Why are you in town, anyway?” One of the twin’s pipes up.

“Exactly that reason.” I take a step back, looking submissive goes against the grain, but I do it to show that I’m not looking for trouble. Not yet, anyway. “I was working construction in Oregan but had a disagreement with the site manager.”

“Disagreement?”

“Yeah.” When he raises a brow at me wanting more, I expand my reason. “I slit the fuckers throat when I found him trying to fuck a local girl around the back of the local bar.”

“Was she your girl?”

“No!”

“So, what was your problem?”

“She was barely fifteen, and far from willing. He was fucking raping her.” I growl back at him.

“Then why not report him to the cops?”

“Because the two guys that were getting their kicks watching him attack the defenceless girl were his paid lackeys, and they’d have given a different turn of events. One that would have found me facing the death sentence.”

“And what about those two? Surely, they didn’t stand there with a handful of candy-corn watching the show. Didn’t jump in to help him?”

“Sure, they did.” I smirk back at him. “I ended them, too. Then left town, jumped state and ended up here.” The room goes quiet. Only the sound of the retro jukebox, that sits opposite the bar pulling up its next play, can be heard. “I covered my tracks and got rid of the bodies, but you can never be too careful.”

“Violent little shite, aren’t you?” He says finally breaking the silence. “So, what happens now?”

“I go wherever the work is, and stay the fuck out of Oregon.”

“Meet me here tomorrow at eight-forty-five. I might have something for you.” With that he nods at the rest of the guys to follow him towards the door, and they disappear out into the night air.

I stepinto the bar at eight-fifty-five, ten minutes after the agreed time, simply because I don’t want to look too desperate. Thankfully, Mal and the guys are still here.

“You’re late,” Mal snaps at me when I get within earshot.

“Yeah, was planning on getting here early so I could grab food before you came, seeing as I ain’t eaten since this morning. But the fucking car had a busted tyre, so I had to change it out and it took far longer than it should have.” I’m conscious that I’ve started to babble, so I shut the fuck up before I end up looking like a total dipshit.

“Well, if your belly’s more important than work,” he throws up his hands and begins to turn away. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Nah,” I say quickly. “Truth is, if I don’t start earning soon, I ain’t gonna have money to eat.” He turns back towards me. “You said you might have something for me?”

Instead of answering my question, he takes his time perusing me, drilling me with a stare as if trying to work out if I’m trustworthy or not.

“Let’s grab a seat and I’ll fill you in.”

Chapter

Seventeen

Johny B

The burner phone I call from is basic, but crucial for me to be able to keep a secure line of contact with the YOMC. It only rings out twice before I hear Mammoth’s deep rumble of a voice filter down the line.

---