Page 109 of Road Queens
“You’ve never seen people more invested in enforcing their hierarchy. There’srules, Garner, so many rules. Hierarchy rules, codes-of-conduct rules, whose-turn-to-bring-a-slow-cooker-full-of-chili rules ...”
“They’re like the House of Lords that way,” Cassandra added.
“Yep. And if you’re late to the party? Try to copy anything from an MC, like using the same name or the same cut design, and see what happens.”
“Violence?” Marcus asked, and it was downright creepy how he perked up.
“Worse. Lawsuits. MCs like the Hells Angels and the Bandidos are as vigilant—”
“And litigious,” Amanda added.
“—about copyright infringement as Disney. And nobody in their right mind ever,everfucks with Disney.”
“This is disappointing,” Marcus admitted.
Sidney shrugged. “Sorry. You bought into the hype. It happens.”
“He killed her,” Marcus said. “He bullied her and belittled her and beat her, and when I finally talked her into leaving, he shattered her skull like it was a ceramic plate, andnothing happened.”
“Nothing happened” was still echoing when Sidney cleared her throat. “We’re aware. And it fucking sucks. But here’s the thing, Garner, because I guess it’s the theme of the week: it wasn’t your fault.”
“Don’t presume, Ms.Derecho.”
“‘Presume’ might as well be her middle name, Mr.Garner, so you can forget about her taking that advice.”
“Kindly die on fire, Amanda.”
“Plus, she’s right,” Cassandra added. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t have to spend years punishing yourself. You can’t think that’s what Wanda would have wanted.” She glanced sideways at Amanda and muttered, “I’m aware of the irony here; don’t you say one word to me.”
“What Wanda would have wanted is both moot and irrelevant.”
“Aren’t those kind of the same thing?” Sidney asked.
“No,” Amanda and Marcus replied in unison.
Marcus continued: “Wanda is dead. Cut down like a rabbit hiding from a lawn mower. I will never see her again. She will never see me again. She will neveranythingagain. Speculating about what Wanda would have wanted is an infuriating waste of time and energy.”
Yes, it’s almost as futile and wasteful as pissing away a fortune to build a mausoleum years after the fact that, by your own admission, your sister will never see or even know about.
Amanda wrapped her arms around herself. She knew it was her imagination, but the mausoleum was getting colder by the moment.
Marcus had been keeping himself so still, Amanda almost jumped when he broke the silence with, “Why have you come to see me? Iexpected a couple of members of Saint Paul’s finest, not ... whatever you are now.”
“To belatedly offer our condolences?”
“Do not lie to me, young lady.”
Sidney cocked her head to one side. “Pretty sure you’re not even ten years older than we are.”
“Okay, then, we’re here for your mausoleum-warming party.”
Marcus let out an elegant snort, which was amazing. It was like someone letting out an elegant sneeze: it sounded impossible until you saw it happen.
“Nothing from you, sir?” he asked Sean. “I don’t believe you’ve spoken since you introduced yourself.”
“This is their show. I’m the tagalong.”
“Ah. How nice that we all know our place.” Marcus picked up the urn, examined it, then started to ... unscrew the top? “As for the mausoleum-warming soiree, if I were hosting such an absurd event, it wouldn’t be until September. But I won’t see September.”
