Page 126 of Bazooka
I spotted a tall man in front of me clad in black.
“If you’re after my father, you have the wrong son,” I muttered, slowly straightening up. “He doesn’t give a shit about me.”
“And I don’t give a shit about your father.”
Things just got interesting.
“Mendoza, then?” I guessed as fancy, expensive shoes appeared in my line of vision.
My gaze lifted, following a strong, muscular body, an unfairly pretty face, and cold eyes.
“Yeah, you’re the villain of this story,” I concluded after a thorough once-over. “Both handsome and devious. You’re after Bazooka, I presume?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t give a shit about Bazooka,” Mendoza said coolly.
“What do you give a shit about?”
“They told me you were mouthy,” he said before his shoe hit my face. It felt as if I might have lost a tooth or two, which made me angry because I would rather die than let Baz see me toothless.
“Maybe you should learn to rein in that big mouth of yours,” Mendoza said, smirking.
I spat out blood. “Eh, if I haven’t learned it so far, I never will.”
He laughed, taking my chin in his hand.
“I like you. You’re funny.”
“I’m also rich. Do you need money? If you leave Baz and me alone, I’ll give it to you.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
“A few million. My grandpa left me a trust fund, which I rarely use out of principle because my father is a piece of shit.”
“My father was the same,” Mendoza said thoughtfully. “Maybe we have more in common than I thought. Incidentally, I don’t care about your money.”
“If you’re not interested in my father or Baz or even money, why am I here?” I asked him. “If it’s my ass you’re after, I have to inform you that I’m engaged to be married.”
Mendoza smiled. “I don’t care about your ass either and the rest shall be revealed soon. In the meantime, I would like to introduce you to my associates, Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson. And let me warn you… They don’t have the same sense of humor as I do.”
Two wrestler-sized men appeared behind him, armed to the teeth.
“Shocker,” I muttered. “Are you going to call Bazooka?”
“Maybe.”
“If you do, can you please tell him I’m sorry?”
“Why?”
“Because I fucked up, and now he will suffer for it.”
Bazooka
Pest:I miss you like crazy, Baz. What do you want for lunch?
Me:I miss you, too. Your ass on the platter.
Pest:You want my hole already spread wide, or do you wanna do it by yourself?
