Page 109 of Roses Are Dead
“I like her chili better than this.” I passed the joint to Fin without hitting it. Despite the taste, the high slammed into me hard. It was one of those fuzzy kinds of buzzes that made you feel like you stood sideways. I almost wussed out and sat on the nearest junked car but stayed standing, barely. “What brought you north?”
Fin held up a finger to let me know he’d tell me as soon as he was done holding his breath. He let a little smoke leak out as he squeaked out, “Brought your woman’s knife.” He coughed and a cloud of smoke came with it.
He offered the nub to Jackson.
“Pass.”
Fin snubbed it out between his fingers. Then got down to business. “I brought the truck. Betty Jo insisted I bring another box of clothes up with it. Damn woman.”
Jackson tipped his head at the club. “You know, you’re always welcome to?—”
“Fuck off. My wife might be a bitch, but she’s my bitch and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You know that.” He punched Jackson in the chest and said Kate’s name as he did.
Luckily, he pulled it.
Jackson laughed. “Fuck. I know the feeling.”
“Everything okay?” They’d just gotten married. I’d hate to think he was getting the itch already.
The smirk on Jackson’s face wasn’t comforting. “Ain’t had time or opportunity to bust a decent nut is all. Maybe… Can Zoe sleep at your house for a night or two?”
“Jesus, man, I ain’t a fucking hotel or a babysitter.”
“I hear you were. Your woman had her hands full with four kids the other night, and you pitched right in. D’you and her have a secret you’re not telling us?” Fin’s bushy eyebrow went up with speculation.
“How in the fuck did you hear about that?”
Jackson chuckled.
Right. That asshole told him. Probably thought it was hilarious. “They ain’t hers. They’re her best friend’s.”
“Crotch goblins.” Fin shuddered.
“Could you imagine kids with Betty Jo?” Jackson asked the air, but probably didn’t mean to include Fin.
“They’d have murdered someone before they turned twelve,” I said.
Fin laughed. “Damn straight they would have. And I’d’ve hid the bodies.” A rare smile crossed his face. But it fell. “Speaking of bodies, Demons?”
Ah, yes. He kept abreast of the goings on, especially if it involved clubs inside our territory. “Thirty of ’em sniffing around. They also got that bitch-ass club of punks from West Chester riding with them.”
“Fifty-eight then.” He turned to Jackson, “How’s ‘Burgh. Still giving you shit?”
“Bandit rode with me on the trip last month. It’s all good.” Jackson sounded convincing.
However, Fin stared at him for too long. “You know it ain’t.”
“That’s my problem, old man.”
“Just saying.” Fin brushed at his dirty jeans. He may look like he was giving up on the topic, but he had a serious hard-on about protecting territory, and we all knew it.
Jackson couldn’t let it go. “No, ya weren’t. You were meddling.”
“I’m too old to meddle,” Fin shot back.
“Bullshit.” Jackson beat me to it, but mine echoed on its heels.
That’s when Jackson finally let it go. “Let’s see that knife. I’m curious what a one-thousand-dollar blade looks like.”
