Page 208 of Misrule
“I’m listening.”
“Lou had five thousand dollars. Anita has one hundred dollars. Sarah had ten thousand dollars. Who had the most fuckin’ money?”
Knox rolled his eyes. “That’s easy. Sarah. What makes you think that’s a riddle?”
Outlaw walked up to Knox, stopping inches away. “Cuz it is. Your fuckin’ problem is you think you so fuckin’ smart, you ain’t got to listen to no other motherfucker. You so fuckin’ smart that you stupid. The answer Anita cuz shehasthe money. Other twohadit. Sometimes, you need to fuckin’ stop and listen to other motherfuckers. Ain’t a motherfucker alive know every fuckin’ thing.”
“I’m a college graduate. A retired police officer. A private investigator.”
“Nobody givin’ a fuck what you is,” Outlaw growled. “Since you somehow all the fuckin’ shit you say and got it without a fuckin’ brain, lemme put a fuckin’ suggestion on the table. If the fuckin’ fact I bought Roxanne a ride upsettin’ your ass so fuckin’ much, give me my motherfuckin’ money back and then you can sayyoupaid for it. Problem fuckin’ solved.”
“Outlaw!” Giant Chet called from some back room.
“Yo?”
“I got a couple of things CJ might like. Come and see.”
“What the fuck you got for Megan, motherfucker? My ass been standin’ out here fifteen goddamn minutes.”
Giant Chet boomed laughter. “My missus always saves things for your wife. When I run across things, I do too.”
“You don’t visit your own business?” Knox asked, somewhat chastened by Outlaw’s riddle and explanation.
“Chet and his woman own forty percent. He a former Dweller. I trust the motherfucker. Ain’t got to stay up his ass. He send quarterly reports.”
“How many other businesses do you own?”
“Me, personally? Me with the club? Or me with Mort, Val, Cash, Digger, Stretch, and Johnnie?”
“You earn your money by legal means?” Knox asked in wonder.
Outlaw grinned. “Some of it.”
“Outlaw!” Giant Chet called again.
“You a impatient motherfucker, motherfucker,” Outlaw responded, turning away from Knox.
“Wait, Outlaw!”
“What, Knox?”
“Which bike should I buy?”
“Ain’t repeatin’ myself. You know what the fuck I said. Take my fuckin’ advice or don’t. That shit on you.”
Saying nothing more, Outlaw turned and disappeared around the corner.
A little while later, Knox purchased the smaller, lightweight bike.
“Wafer, are you sure about this?”
Later that evening, Cam circled Knox’s new motorcycle, admiring it from the detachable windshield that Outlaw insisted Knox purchase to the red taillight. The bike’s sleek lines reminded him of a racing bike. Except this one was street legal—and it was his.
Smiling, Knox rolled back his sleeves to show Cam his arm art. “What do you think of my new toos, Cookie.”
“It’stats, Knox,” Cam corrected around laughter. “Tats.” He came closer to Knox, managing to drag his gaze away from the Harley. “Does she know yet?”
Disappointed that Cam didn’t comment on the actual tattoos, Knox pulled down his sleeve and rebuttoned the cuff. “No. I was hoping she’d find out…someone would tell her. No one has. I’m still persona non grata, Cam.”
