Page 48 of Devil's Marker

“No shit.”

“I would not shit you about this.”

“Okay.”

“So Boss puffs up a little. Scares the Baptist outta me when he does that ‘cause I know the man, but those fuckin’ idiots just stand there ‘cause they don’t understand the end times are about to be deposited squarely on their pointed little heads.”

“And is that what happened? End times?”

Cue shook his head. “Game called again. Looks like another delay on the end of days. However, Boss reaches out fast as a snake, grabs that little redheaded metrosexual by the cut and shoves him into a corner so they can have a more private kind of chat.

“Zip, Smash, and me stepped in front of tall and butt-ugly before he can keep his prez from lookin’ like the little bitch he is. Gotta tell you. It was satisfyin’ watchin’ him squirm, renderin’ him unable to do his job. I was smirkin’ the whole time.” He chuckled.

“Wish we had it on video.”

“Now that would be somethin’. So I’m not entirely sure what Boss says to Dredge in private, but I’ll tell you this. Fucker’s face turns so red it’s almost purple. That’s another problem with bein’ redheaded. Damn high colorin’. Everybody can see exactly what they’re thinkin’. Can’t play poker worth a shit.”

“Huh.”

“So just about the time Dredge’s head looks like it gonna explode, and that’s no exaggeration mind you, cops come strollin’ in like they’re not in any hurry. Smash ‘n Zip ‘n me take two steps away from Ugly. We got our hands in our pockets and it’s clear as day we’re not up to mischief. Just good Harley customers out for a Saturday shoppin’ trip. Know what I mean?”

“Yes.”

“Ugly’s startin’ to look around like he just remembered someplace else where he needs to be. Now, Boss, who’s got instincts out the wazoo, I mean that’s how he got where he is if you’re followin’.”

“I am.”

“He senses when it’s time to wind up his summit meetin’ with the carrot top.” Cue chuckled. “Now here’s the thing you’re gonna love. I’m not sayin’ that Boss is in bed with local law enforcement, but I will say that he donates to all their funds and, when they’re needin’ help in a way that we could help without bein’ in conflict with our own interests, we give it. We’re an outlaw club, but we’re not the kind of outlaw club that flaunts it or preys on good citizens.

“Guess what I’m tryin’ to get across is that, between us and S&B, we’re the home team. Locals. Counts for somethin’. Right?”

“Right.”

“So cops take one look at them and another look at us and say, ‘You got trouble here, Boss?’ You can almost see the lava spew right outta the top of Dredge’s head. Not so much Ugly. Seems like maybe he’s beyond feelin’ much of anythin’.

“Turns out Boss knows one of the cops by name. Says, ‘No trouble, Charlie. Seems there’s a new club in town. We were just givin’ a proper welcome and invitin’ them to a get together’.

“So this Charlie looks over at Dredge and Ugly and says, ‘You sure? Seems like I mighta heard one of yours took a real ugly beat down out on 35. These the fellas that did it?’

“Boss turns around and looks at Dredge and Ugly like he’s forgotten which two fellas Charlie might be talkin’ about and has to check to be sure he’s talkin’ about the same ones. ‘We don’t know who did that, Charlie. Guess you don’t either, which is a damn shame ‘cause somebody ought to be wearin’ orange right now.’

“’Well, that’s the truth of it,’ says Charlie. ‘You hear anythin’, you let us know.’ ‘Count on it,’ Boss says. ‘I hate to ask this, but your boys outside are creatin’ kind of a stir. Their presence is discouragin’ business and Harley, here, has to make a livin’ like everybody else.’

“Boss says, ‘We’re just leavin’, Charlie. Sorry to pull you away from what you were doin’.’ Then he shakes Charlie’s hand and the four of us walk out. As we’re headin’ toward the door we hear Charlie say to Dredge and Ugly, ‘Now you boys need to move on off. Come back some other day’.”

“And they did? Leave without any trouble?”

“Yeah. Meek as little lambs.” Cue snickered. “Little lambs that had been sittin’ in the stewpot so long they were red in the face.”

“Did Boss tell you what he said to the S&B prez?”

“Not till we got back here.”

“Well, what did he say?”

“Said he told Dredge that movin’ into our town was strike one. Hop was strike two. And that, if Dredge had the sense God gave a redheaded stepchild, he’d take his merry band of miscreants and get the hell back to Dixie before he accidentally stepped on strike three. Which would deliver Armageddon right to his door and that of his family.

“Boss told him that he plays nice with other clubs who stay where they should and stay out of his business, but that Dredge is no longer where he ought to be and is now in our business.”

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