Page 57 of Moonshine Lullabies

I spoke up. “Just make sure whatever you do to the place, it’s grand. I mean, reduce it to a pile of fuckin’ matchsticks, no repairs. They gonna have to rebuild.”

“What’s your reasonin’?” Hex asked curiously.

“We can fix Cy’s place, but escalation of force dictates they gon’ have no choice but torebuild.”

There were a lot of nods around the table.

“Speakin’ of Cy’s place,” Chainsaw put out there. “Anything we can do to help with whatever little talk show drama y’all had goin’ on out there?”

“No,” Cy and I both said in unison and Bennie’s eyebrows shot up. He gave a low whistle.

“Okaaayyy,” Chainsaw said.

“You need help, you just holler. Y’all know we got your backs,” Hex reminded us like we needed it.

“Appreciate it,” I said.

He nodded.

We covered a few smaller things and went over the Moonshine operation before adjourning.

I got up along with everyone else, ready to head across the street to check on my woman and her boy when Saint asked me, “You ready to come an’ check out your bike?”

Fuck.

“Yes and no,” I said, and he nodded.

“I feel you on that one,” he said.

Cy said, “I’m goin’ to talk to my sister.” I caught his arm before he could go by. He shook me off and scowled at me and said, “No, not about that!” and I gave a nod. He swore and stalked out of the room and down toward the common room of the clubhouse.

I sighed and raked a hand back through my hair and said, “Lead the way.”

Saint shook his head and declared, “Way too much fuckin’ drama around here lately for my liking.”

“You and me both,” I agreed.

It was already a long day.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

Jessie-Lou…

“Well, your uncle is comin’,” I said, looking up from the random book I’d pulled from one of the shelves up here. I was sitting in the window seat overlooking the clubhouse down below as John-Paul looked both ways before crossing the street.

“Okay, tell me when!” Tate was eager to be the one to buzz him in through the door downstairs.

“I can’t tell,” I said. “Just wait for him to hit the bell or whatever.”

A buzzing sound filled the apartment and Tate grinned like a fool and hit the intercom button and in an overly feminized voice called out, “Who is it?”

I heard Cy laugh through the box downstairs and he said, “Buzz me in, buddy, I need to come up an’ talk to you an’ your mom.”

I couldn’t say I liked the sound of that. It always filled me with a sense of dread when anyone said anything along the lines of “we need to talk” without any kind of warning ahead of time. It almost was never somethin’ good.

“Unlock the door,” I told my son when he tried to fool around when J.P. made it on up here.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, geez,” he said, and J.P. ruffled his hair as he came through the door.

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