2. Dallas
DALLAS
“You know we could do another round before heading out, right?” I asked as Deacon guided us over to a booth in the corner.
“No,” our President said plainly, “let’s move away from prying ears. We need to talk.”
“Stare hard enough at her, Dallas?” Gauge asked.
“Why? You jealous?” I asked with a grin.
Gauge rolled his eyes as he charged toward the booth.
He was our Enforcer, and Deacon didn’t go anywhere without the man.
I got it, of course. Things had gotten riskier over the last few months with our latest business, and because of that Gauge had stepped up our patrols.
Tightened our restrictions. The lower tiers of the crew had dealt with a curfew for as long as we could remember, and it was getting old.
We needed another business front, and quickly.
“All right,” Deacon said as we all sat down on the flimsy, vinyl-covered booth, “what do we think?”
I smiled as the young man on stage missed another one of his cues to start singing. “I like it.”
Gauge scoffed. “You like the bartender.”
My smile faded into a grin. “She’d be tasty in bed.”
Deacon shot me a look. “We aren’t here to get our dicks wet. We’re here to scope out the place and its talent. Now, let’s talk about it.”
“What talent?” I asked.
Gauge harrumphed with a soft chuckle, and that made me slap my hand against his shoulder.
“See? Even Silent Bob over here is ready for a good time at this place.”
“Gauge? Your thoughts?” Deacon asked.
Gauge crossed his arms over his chest. “That poor kid in there didn’t have any business being on that stage.”
Deacon twirled his finger in the air. “Especially with this pathetic sound system.”
I clicked my tongue. “Plug can deal with that, easily. And talent can be passed over once we buy out the place. We don’t have to put anyone on that stage that we don’t want. Hell, we wouldn’t even have to keep the stage.”
“The place will need renovating,” Deacon said.
I peeked over at Gauge. “And we all know who’s going to love that part.”
That tugged a smirk across Gauge’s face. “Can I rip that bar to shreds? I fucking hate that thing.”
But, Deacon was all business as he took a swig of his drink. “We need a new business and we don’t have time to build it.”
“Not around here again, anyway,” I said as I looked up and down the deserted, sandy road that cut through California’s desert. “It takes ages to get all the shit imported in that we’ll eventually need.”
“We’d have to find a new audience, too,” Gauge said plainly. “We already have one bar in the area that caters toward the younger crowd. Maybe having somewhere for the adults of the town to go to would be a good idea.”
Deacon pointed at Gauge. “Now you’re getting it. Dallas?”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Hey, our bar and mechanic shop have been putting out substantially for the past couple of years. I think if we can make one bar work, we can make a second bar work.”
“So, are we all in agreement?” Deacon asked.
Gauge sighed. “We’d need to update just about everything in that bar, though. Especially that ancient register, did you see that fucking thing?”
I cackled. “Straight out of the eighties, I tell ya.”
“Are we sure that we don’t want to build from the ground up?” Gauge asked.
Deacon shook his head. “The laundromat business has been good to us, but not good enough to justify building yet a third place from the bottom up. It would take months to get the washers and dryers we need, and we don’t have that kind of time.”
That was how we conversed about our business in public.
Behind the scenes, we ran guns to some of the most ruthless individuals on the West Coast. Made a fortune doing it as well.
But, all of the money we had accrued as we built a name for ourselves needed to be cleaned and shined up, and both our bar and our mechanic shop were at capacity.
Word had gotten around about our crew. How we did things professionally.
By the book. How we had the police of the town in our pockets, so anyone traveling in to do business would be safe.
And all of that hinged on us taking serious precautions while out in public.
So, in public, our business was in laundromats, and the talk about washers and dryers were code for ‘before sale money’ and ‘after sale money.’
Washers meant money before it was cleaned, and dryers meant that the money had already been cleaned and was ready for use.
“My God,” Gauge said as he winced with the feedback from the sound system, “someone put that kid out of his misery.”
And that’s when her sultry little voice rose up from behind me. “You can say that again.”
The three of us slowly contorted our necks, trying to locate the sound of that angelic voice. And as she approached the edge of our booth, I found that she had a tray of piping hot food in her hands.
“Compliments of the chef,” she said as she placed the tray down on the table.
I plucked a French fry from its basket and tossed it into my mouth.
The satisfying crunch that came just before the steam erupted into my mouth filled my tongue with saliva.
I reached for a handful and ripped a napkin out of the sticky dispenser while Deacon reached for one of the hot dogs.
And when he took a bite out of that loaded thing, his eyebrows rose on his forehead.
“This isn’t half bad,” he said as he took another bite.
I plopped another crispy fry into my mouth. “I don’t know what your chef is doing with these fries, but keep at it.”
“He makes them in-house,” Char said.
And as Gauge reached for the three-patty-high burger, I watched him unhinge his jaw as he damn near ate half the thing in one bite.
Char watched him intently as he chewed. As he swallowed. Then, when he took another bite, she shuffled on her feet.
“Well? What do you think?” she asked.
I snickered. “If he hasn’t spit it out, he likes it.”
She nodded slowly. “Ah, well, I’m glad I don’t have to mop up the mess, then.”
Even Deacon offered up a half-assed smile at that one. But, Gauge stayed stone cold with his features while he ate his burger with the tone deaf talent wailing on stage.
“Give our compliments to the chef, would you, doll?” I asked Char. “We’d appreciate it.”
“Damn good hot dog,” Deacon murmured as he plucked some napkins from the dispenser.
She patted my shoulder, and don’t think I ignored that little squeeze she gave right there at the very end. “I’ll be sure to let him know, boys. And if you need menus for anything else, just give me a shout. Kitchen’s still open for another half hour.”
I winked up at her and took great pride in watching her cheeks flush. “If I need anything, you’ll be the first person I hunt down.”
As she licked that pouty lower lip of hers, I couldn’t help the hunger that trickled down to my dick as she smiled.
As she rapped those knuckles of hers against the table.
As she swayed those thick hips of hers, the excess of her globes jiggling for my viewing pleasure.
And even in the low lighting of the bar, I saw how hot her skin became as she crossed the bar and headed back toward the kitchen window.
Nice to know I wasn’t the only one thinking about those luscious thighs of hers getting divorced.