Chapter 8 Debt
DEBT
AUSTIN
There were two stools open at the bar. One of them was on the end where the jukebox made it impossible to have a conversation.
Luckily, for me, the target I needed to talk to was sitting on the other end of the bar.
I slid into the seat and set a twenty on the bar to get the bartender’s attention.
She paused, understandably confused. But rallied and asked me for my drink order.
“Whiskey neat. Shelf is fine.”
“Are you supposed to be drinking? Isn’t that a violation of your parole?” There was a smirk in his tone.
I turned the stool to face my twin. “I paid my debt to society. How about you?”
Andrew sneered. “I don’t owe a debt.” Lie stated, he tried to ignore me.
“Yeah, you do. See, you killed someone.”
“No, I didn’t.” He slugged down about half of his mixer.
“Brenda was pregnant.”
Andrew’s jaw got tight. “I suppose it was yours?” He glared at me.
“We hadn’t gone that far yet, not without wrapping it up. So, it had to be yours. But her mom didn’t know that. When the coroner told her that the overdose took both lives, her mother blamed me.”
Andrew shrugged. “Ask me if I care.”
“Oh, I know you don’t.” I blew out the anger that was making me tense.
I shouldn’t have approached him until Sprout arrived, but I thought I could handle it.
Funny thing, ten years wasn’t long enough to drum into my head that killing my girlfriend’s rapist was wrong.
My wiring was all fucked up because of it.
I still wanted to take my buck knife and drive it into his gut.
The girl put the drink down and asked if we needed anything else.
I shook my head.
“You know, it’s not smart breaking a restraining order.”
“You don’t have a restraining order against me.”
“I will by tomorrow.”
Good. Those things went two ways. “So will I.”
“Like they’ll listen to you, a felon.” He grinned at me. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”
He could call me anything he wanted, but I needed to send him a message. “And you don’t even know your real name. Trading on mine when you want to step out on that wife of yours?” I shook my head mentally ticking off all the ways that was wrong.
“Fuck you. You can’t prove a thing.”
“I can’t. The girl you were with last week might be able to, though.”
Andrew looked down the bar to check to see if anyone was paying attention. Finding the coast clear, he fisted my coat. “It will be my word against hers, just like before. And you’ll go down for it. Again.”
“You’re touching Destroyers’ property.” In more ways than one.
My twin glanced down to the leather in his hand. “Fucking freak.” He shoved me away, almost knocking me off the stool. And I had to take it, because one toe over any line meant I’d not only lose my place in the club, but my freedom.
Sprout strode in with three of my brothers in tow. I signaled them with a raised chin. They turned in mass and surrounded Andrew. I stood up and brushed off any wrinkles or cooties he left on my leather. “You’re late.”
“Did ya hit him yet, Smoke?” Griz breathed down Andrew’s neck.
“Nope.”
“Then we’re right on time.” Sprout laughed and ordered a beer by reaching over Andrew and snapping his finger for the bartender. He laid a fifty on the bar next to my money being certain to lean on Andrew as he did so.
Andrew knew better, but made the mistake, anyway. His elbow flew back and hit Sprout in the stomach. “Back off.”
I held up both hands so the bartender could see I had no part in this.
Sprout lifted Andrew out of his chair and with Griz, Sketch, and Poke, they carried him outside.
There were a few heads that turned, and quickly pretended to ignore the commotion once they saw the Destroyers’ Skulls on every coat.
The bartender set the beer down. “Is that your twin?”
“Not anymore.” I chugged the beer and shoved the remaining money at her to cover the drink. “Keep the tip.”
Her eyes flew to the door and then quickly away. I waited until she swiped up the cash and then joined Sprout and the others outside.
They had Andrew against a tree.
“Her name is Lily. Lily Albert.”
“She said her name was Savage. Not Albert. I didn’t know she was that lunatic’s daughter. I swear. I swear to God. I thought she was that hooker’s daughter. You know, the one down in the flats. Please don’t kill me.”
“Let him go. He knows better now. Don’t you, Andrew?”
“Fuck you.”
Griz’s punch came hard and fast, and Andrew went down almost as quickly. I rifled through his pockets while he was out cold. I pulled out a matchbook from the local motel. “I didn’t know they still gave these out. Talk about a tell.”
Sprout found his wallet and lightened it by all of the cash and snapped photos of the credit cards. He handed the cash to me, but I handed it off to Griz. “You hit him. You earned it.”
“Thanks man, but I know you need the scratch.” He tried to pass it back, but I wouldn’t take it.
“Buy me a drink, or something.”
He shoved the cash in his pocket and agreed.
“Let’s cruise past this motel. What do you say?” Sprout led the group to the bikes.
I debated the sanity of following them. They’d already done more than enough to get me locked up for at least five years.
Then again, inside it would be a lot easier for old Pinner to kill me himself, rather than wait for death to tap me on the shoulder.
So, I embraced my inner Destroyers nature and said, “fuck it.”
When we got to the motel, Sprout told the crew to ask around to see if they remembered Andrew. He motioned me to the side. “Are you okay? You look a little green.”
“I’m good.”
He narrowed his eyes. “No, you’re not. You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?”
If you can’t be honest with your best friend, who can you be honest with? Certainly not myself. “I don’t want to go back in. That means, I can’t do shit like this. And yet, part of me wants to say, fuck it and kill the motherfucker while I can.”
“Yo, Sprout, Smoke, get your asses back here.”
Whatever had Poke’s balls, it was important. We didn’t exactly run, but with long legs like Sprout had, I had to double up my steps to keep up.
“What gives? Holy fuck, is that Lily’s car?” Sprout’s attention diverted from Poke immediately.
I recognized it from the build site the first day.
She’d almost taken out a support leaving.
Someone fucked it up good. All the windows were broken, her tires slashed, except one, and the glove box was only hanging by the cord.
Her car stereo was gone, and I’d bet there was no catalytic converter equipment mounted under the car.
“Fucking stripped,” I noted.
“I wasn’t us,” Sketch said.
“I wonder how long it’s been here?” Sprout walked around it, studying the damage.
I held up the match book we snagged off my brother. “Ten bucks says more than three days.”
“Poke, ask the desk.” Sprout ordered.
“On it.”
“Tell ‘em we’re here to tow it. Sketch, call your guy.”
“What if she’s here?” I asked.
“Fuck.” Sprout scrubbed his hair into even more wild knots than already sat on his head. “Call Poppy, get Lil’s number.”
“Me?” The guy she accused of sleeping with her sister?
“Yeah. You. Unless you wanna go back on that ol’ lady comment?”
For a slack-ass, Sprout knew exactly how to cut a man. “Right.”
She picked up first ring. I walked away a couple of steps just in case she tore into me. “Hey, Poppy.”
“What’s wrong?”
How in the hell did she know? “I found Lily’s car.”
“It broke down on her sometime this week.”
Sprout owed me ten bucks. “Did she say where?”
“No, she didn’t. I’m not her favorite person right now.”
That was understandable. Both of us were on Lily’s shit list. “Would you know how to reach her so we can figure out what to do next? Sprout’s going to have it towed to the shop.”
“The one in the junkyard?”
“Yup. It needs body work and repair, and… parts.”
“Oh Jesus. Where did she leave it?”
I clammed up, but Poppy was a good guesser. Or maybe it was years of getting Lily out of one bit of trouble and then another.
“A drug dealer’s?”
“No.”
“Please don’t say motel.”
I wouldn’t.
“Damn it.” Her cussing picked up after that little outburst in my ear.
“Hey Pop?” I said to catch her attention, “The car will be at the junkyard. I don’t know what we’re going to do to fix it. I’d almost say junk it, but it’s not our call. “
“You need her number, right?”
“Please?”
She sighed. “Maybe she’ll answer your calls. Here.” She rattled off the digits, and I scratched them onto a notepad with the carpenter pencil I had in my pocket.
Maybe I could help Poppy feel better? “Tell you what, I’m going to three way this, but stay quiet unless I need help, okay?”
Lily’s phone rang twice. She answered with a whispered, “Who the fuck is this? Never mind, I don’t care. I need a ride. Mom’s flipping out right now.” The screaming in the background was vivid. “How soon can you be here?”
“We’ll be right there,” Poppy answered.
“Oh fuck, Poppy, why in the fuck are you embracing the dark side all of a sudden? Not cool.”
“You need help—”
“Not from you,” Lily countered quickly.
“Do you need muscle?” I asked.
There was a pause on the line. Something crashed in the background.
Jewel screamed something to the effect of “that’s the last time you steal one of my regulars,” or some shit like that.
Lily screamed back, “…I wouldn’t be broke if I was hooking.
Because unlike you, I’m not a fucking skank who lost pretty somewhere in the eighties! ”
Another object crashed. “You fucking act like a slut!” Jewel’s volume made it easy to understand.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Sprout, Griz, and me will be at Jewel’s trailer in fifteen. Stall.”
“Asshole.” Lily hung up. Poppy was still on the line.
“I’ll meet you there. She’s going need a truck to haul her things, I hope.”
She hung up on me, too. Damn Alberts. “Yo, Sprout, I need an exfil at Jewel’s fish tank. Can you and Griz back me up?”
“Is Lily there?”
“Yup. And so is her mother.”