Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
KASO
“Hey!” I shouted and snapped my fingers between us. When he looked over at me, I tapped on my forehead. “What’s with the face? You look constipated.”
“I’m trying to decide whose fault this is.”
I threw both hands up. “I told you to take a break on the cheese for a day or two—”
“I’m not constipated!” Andreas yelled over me and rolled his eyes. “Sheesh. Stay on topic, would ya?”
I frowned and turned to look back at the scene in front of us. “Why does it matter whose fault it was? All these little brats are knuckleheads. Look at ‘em all. They deserve to take each other out.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You’re the one who said to stay on topic.” I gestured to the ice-skating rink filled with young kids wreaking havoc on their field trip adventure. “All these little shits are at fault. Bullies on bullies.”
“I’m so glad you haven’t procreated,” Andreas mumbled.
I grinned. “Me too.” Just then two kids collided with each other and crashed to the ice. I snort-laughed.
“You have no business tryna date a Virtue when you snort-laugh at kids getting hurt.”
“Oh, that’s the topic we’re on.”
“How could you forget?”
“I’m trying to forget. Trying to distract myself—”
“How’s that workin’ for ya, Romeo?” He chuckled.
“Well, I haven’t chugged poison yet.”
“I don’t like the use of the word yet in there, my brother.”
I shrugged. “I like to leave my options open.”
“See? That’s it. That’s how we got into this mess.” He pointed right at my face. “You leavin’ your options too wide open. Now you’ve got us both mopin’ around for a week ‘cause the girls won’t talk to us. It’s your fault.”
“My fault?” I scoffed. “Nah, nah, nah. You’re the one who ruined my plan to prove to Chanel we weren’t criminals .
. . anymore. It’s been a long time since we were those mafia meatheads.
We’ve worked hard on this vigilante villainy, just keeping the humans safe from accidental murder—or intentional murder, for that matter. I was about to prove that to Chanel—”
“And telling your brother and partner-in-arms would’ve gone a long way that night.” He arched one eyebrow at me. “What’d you think was gonna happen?”
“I—”
“No, no. Don’t answer that. I already know.” He pulled his glasses off his face and began using his button-down shirt to wipe the lenses. “Let’s call it a truce, eh? We’re both at fault for one thing or another, and now we just need to fix it.”
“Hey, I’m the pretty face and muscles of this operation.” I watched a group of little girls in tutu skirts over their wool coats skate in a straight line while holding hands. No one could go around them. It was adorable. I looked back to Andreas. “You’re the brains. Come up with a plan?”
“I’ve been trying all week.” He threw his head back and sighed. “All of my efforts to get near them have failed. They see us coming a mile away.”
“So, let’s bring them to us . . .” I licked my lips as an idea began to form. “We’ve been hunting them the last week. Maybe we need to pop a squat and go fishing instead?”
He frowned. “Isn’t it copping a squat?”
“Copping a squat?” I scowled. “The fuck does copping mean?”
“Eh, you know . . .” He gestured wildly with his hands. “It’s like cop a feel or cop an attitude—”
“That tells me nothin’, Brother.”
He held his phone out to show me his search results. “See? It means like to take or some shit. So cop a squat means to take a seat and chill.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. Huh. “I wonder how many times I’ve said pop a squat in front of people and they thought I was an idiot.”
Andreas hung his head and chuckled softly. “I suppose it also works.”
“Whatever. Point is we need a new plan.” I pretended to reel in on a fishing pole. “We throw the bait out, wait for the girls to grab hold of it, then reel them back in to us.”
“That’s not a bad idea. We’d control the setting that way too.” He pursed his lips and made humming noises. “I got it. Let’s make up for it by rounding up some second-strikers?”
My eyes widened with excitement. “We find the worst of ‘em with two strikes and set ‘em up for a third so the girls can grab ‘em. Then when they show up, they’ll find us waiting.”
Andreas rubbed his palms together. “Worth a shot. Let’s start now.”
“Pull out ya rolodex.”
He looked over at me and scowled. “I don’t carry it ‘round with me, Kaso. It’s a rolodex. Or have you gone Gen Z on me suddenly?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it. “There probably is an app for that—”
“Shut up.”
“Technology is efficient. Ya gotta give it to ‘em—”
“I’ll give somethin’ to you if ya don’t shut up.” He held his closed fist up like he was preparing to hit me.
“You’re just like these bully kids on the ice.” I pointed to one kid with a red Giants jacket on just as he shoved a smaller boy into the boards. I chuckled. “Now that was some timing.”
“There’s somethin’ really wrong wit’you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m bored.”
“I think that’s how we got into this mess—”
“Oh, shut ya pie hole,” I said with a groan as I waved him off. “Don’t start on me with that shit again. Are you gonna get out ya book or we goin’ back to the office?”
“Oh, so you do remember it’s a little black book and not a rolodex?”
“You knew what I was talkin’bout.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know wit’ you lately. You might’ve been talkin’ about my actual rolodex.”
“I swear to the pepperoni on my pizzas if you don’t get ya damn book out and start looking for a victim, you’ll leave me no choice but to go out on the ice and show these kids what a bully looks like.”
“Yeah, that’ll make Chanel wanna ya again, Kaso.” He pursed his lips and nodded dramatically. But he did pull his little black book out of his inside jacket pocket. “I’m sure that’ll turn her on.”
“I don’t know. I could see her bein’ into some vigilante shit—”
“Kaso—”
“Andreas—”
“KASO—”
“Oh just look for a perp already, would ya?” I motioned to the book.
He rolled his eyes, the glasses doing nothing to hide it. But at least he started flipping through pages. His little black book was our old-school way of keeping record of who we did jobs for and what the job was.
“Oh, here we go.” He smacked the book page. “Hamilton Gable—”
“Is that the guy with the thing in the place with the dude?”
Andreas looked over at me and just stared.
I arched one eyebrow. “You know who I'm talkin’ ‘bout.”
“Don’t mean I like that I know just from that.”
“Ey, and a tomato is suddenly a fruit. Whataya gon’ do?”
“Anywayyy,” he drawled and held his book up, “this Hamilton—”
“Oh, is that that cow fucker?”
“What? No, Well . . .” He frowned and flipped through the pages in his book. His eyebrows rose. “He was Hamilton too. Hamilton Burns.”
“Yeah, I bet it burned.” I chuckled. “Wait, so not him? You mean Alexander then?”
He blinked. “Yes, I mean a founding father of the United States: Alexander Hamilton.”
“Do you remember him being as fun as that musical?”
“I forgot how loose your brain gets when you’ve got it bad for a girl.”
I sighed. “I didn’t. It’s miserable. Save me from myself. Who’s this Hamilton guy?”
“You know the guy, the vampire who bites human hookers because he thinks the Virtues won’t be mad.”
“OH.” I slapped my leg. “Hooker Hamburger.”
“See . . . This is the problem with giving everyone nicknames.” He pointed one finger at me. “You never remember their real names.”
“That’s not true.”
“What’s Fancy Nancy’s name?”
“Nancy, duh—”
“Silly Sarah? Birdy Brett? Windy Mindy?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. He may have had a point.
“Annie, are you okay?”
I snort-laughed. “I forgot about that one.”
He shook his head. “Hamilton Gable. The hooker taster.”
“The Hooker Hamburger Man.” I gave him two thumbs-up. “Hate that guy.”
“Right? He’s the worst.”
“Hookers are people too.”
He shrugged. “Just tryin’ to make ends meet. It’s a rough city out here.”
I liked the idea of getting rid of old Hamilton. “It might be time we do a little purgy-purge of the lowlifes.”
Andreas sighed. “Somehow I don’t think the girls will be too fond of that.”
I groaned and snatched his black book from his hands. “That’s why this plan is brilliant. Two bunnies, one carrot.”
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s not the sayin’.”
“Hey,” I said with a mock gasp and pressed my hand to my chest, “I’m a reformed criminal. I ain’t killin’ one bird, let alone two—and who kills ‘em wit’ a stone? Just throw it in the water like a normal asshat skippin’ rocks.”
He sighed and snatched his book back. “I knew ma was lyin’ when she said me droppin’ ya on your head wasn’t a big deal.”
I smirked at him. “I’m still pretty.”
“Thank God for that.” He laughed. “We’d have to rethink the whole business strategy.”
“We’ve got you for the brains.” I wagged my eyebrows at him.
“And these brains say Hooker Ham—I mean, Hamilton Gable . . . Dammit, Kaso.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I call him that to his face, I’m gonna mess up your face.”
I snapped my fingers. “I know just the hooker face we can invite him to eat—”
“Whoa! We’re not gonna let him actually bite someone, are we?”
“He has to actually commit the third strike or it doesn’t count.” I pointed to his book. “That guy needs to go. I’m sick of his shit, always draining his hookers too much and then leaves ‘em there for us to clean up.”
“It’s the way he calls us and says better get over there before she’s dead. Then we gotta drop whatever we’re doin’ to rescue the poor human. Really sets me off.” He half-turned toward me. “So, yeah, you’re right. You thinkin’ of—”
“Madam Pimp, yep.”
“How does that help you remember her name?”
I scoffed. “I never knew her name.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he mumbled under his breath.
“I’m bad at names.” I shrugged and dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone, then scrolled through until I found her name and hit call followed by putting it on the speakerphone.
“You have her saved as Madam Pimp in your phone?” Andreas groaned. “That’s just not right.”