Page 93 of Savage Outlaw

Sickness curdled Arson’s gut until he thought he might hurl.

“Morning, Arson. You fancied an early morning too?”

“Something like that,” he answered and hoped the man would go away.

No such luck. Danny Murphy was one of those social people. The do-gooders of the world. He’d even traveled to see Lawless in prison a few times.

Not many like Danny these days. In a world of pure selfishness, Danny walked alone.

He didn’t want to talk, and he absolutely didn’t want to talk to the man of God.

The self-hatred was strong.

Stronger still once he figured out where he was last night.

A weak man.

A screw up.

A shit of a friend.

There’s no answers on his phone as he scrolled through.

The call log told him he made a call to Grinder around 11 p.m. last night, it lasted all of three seconds. And then Reaper for a few seconds at 2 a.m. He bet the ghost was fucking pleased about that call if he was tucked up with his old lady.

But there were no texts from women to indicate where he’d spent last night. He never kept women’s names or numbers stored in his phone. He didn’t see the point if it was a hook-up.

Feeling like scum. Shame poured down over his head.

He should know who the fuck he had sex with.

Not like it’s the first time it’s happened.

He gets drunk and then horny, so he fucks. Then Arson is lucky if he remembered the chick’s name in the morning.

“Looks like someone had a good time,” remarked Danny, a smile on his face when Arson glanced up. Danny pointed to his own cheek. “You have pink lipstick here.”

Without a word, he scrubbed the shame off his cheek.

“Don’t let me keep you, pastor.” He said.

“You okay, man?”

This was where Arson would laugh it off, paste on a smile and give his generic bullshit answer that he wasgreat. He’d been doing the same routine for so long now that the words were right there on the tip of his tongue and yet … he couldn’t get them through his lips.

The lies wouldn’t come, and he started to sweat, though the cold howled through his body. He glanced up at the religious man and saw something in those blue eyes.

A truth. An understanding.

The whole of Arson’s head started to buzz.

“I don’t know.” He answered with a croak. “I don’t fucking know.”

The pastor shifted his body and sat at the side of Arson. “That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Saying you don’t know is better than saying yes when you know it isn’t.”

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