Page 33 of Out on a Limb
“It’s the first rule of doing shit you’re not supposed to, Sharon. No witnesses.” Sylvia edged closer. “Everyone knows that.”
“Well excuse me for not being as accustomed to organized crime as you are.”
I turned toward Sylvia, blinking a few times at the wine-induced haze making the move feel much faster than it really was. “What did she say?”
“She said open the damn gate.” Sylvia made a rolling motion with her hand, making it clear she wanted me to get on with it.
I flipped the lock open. “What if they know it was us?”
“Oh, they’re going to know it was us.” Sylvia grinned. “That’s half the fun.”
“This is war.” Sharon shut the gate behind us and used my key to lock us in. “And those pricks have no idea who they’re screwing with.” She had a wicked gleam in her eyes and a wide smile on her lips as she started across the grass with Sylvia and Barb. The old ladies stopped halfway across and turned to where Julia and I still stood. “Come on hooches. Operation Cock Drop is underway.”
I held one hand to the side of my mouth as I whisper-yelled their direction. “It’s mostly hens.”
“They don’t care. They just want to say the word cock.” Julia burped, covering her mouth as she blinked a few times. “I shouldn’t have let Sharon convince me to try what was in her flask.”
I eyed my friend. “Probably not.”
In hindsight, it was most likely a strategic move. The ladies knew that if either of us was in our right mind we wouldn’t agree to their cockamamy scheme.
I snorted. “Cockamamy.”
“Well, it’s too late now.” Julia hiccupped, blowing out a long breath that ended with her lips flapping in a raspberry.
The main downside to Julia’s inebriation was that we were down a designated driver, which meant we had to take an Uber to get here and would have to call an Uber to get home, and Sylvia had a bad habit of barfing in moving cars when she was shit-faced.
The woman in question held out both arms. “Do you want to save your garden or not?”
“It’s not my garden.” I was still whisper-yelling even though Sylvia was straight up hollering.
“Like hell it’s not.” She pointed my way. “Who’s here every day, working their ass off for this place?” She stomped one orthopedic shoe. “Not your prick of a grandfather, I can tell you that.” Her wagging finger pointed to the ground. “That makes this your garden.”
If being here every day was what qualified ownership, then I wasn’t the only owner of Sweet Side Gardens.
I looked at Julia.
She burped again, but her eyes held mine. “Let’s do it.”
I grabbed her hand in mine and we marched after the driving forces behind Operation Cock Drop, heading straight for the back end of the property where there was a whole pile of chickens waiting to be used for war.
Because that’s what this was according to Sylvia.
And it was time to strike our own attack.
It was a little strange being in the garden at night, sneaking around a place where I’d spent so much of my life. The only lights on were the few that stayed on around the clock for security purposes.
It was a little scary.
A little exciting.
Or maybe it was the fact that we were giving the assholes behind us some of what they deserved that had my heart pumping.
Sylvia scanned the space I’d done my best to describe to her. “We need a ladder.”
Julia and I found a ladder in the landscaping building and dragged it to the fence separating our property from the land being developed. Once it was open and as stable as possible, Sylvia climbed up a few rungs to peek over the top of the fence. “Well, shit.” She turned to face us. “It’s too far away.”
Part of me was relieved at the discovery, but another part of me wasn’t willing to give up just yet. “How far away is it?” I went to stand beside where she was still surveying the property next door. “Could we put something on top of the ladder and on top of the trailer so we could walk across like a bridge?”
