Chapter Three #3
The man turned to look at him. “That’s what I said.
” He looked Mickey up and down before taking a step back.
“I can’t imagine any other reason for two big guys to pick on a guy my size.
” He had the audacity to shake his finger in my face…
making me want to bite it. “Well, I can tell you this…if you have something like that in mind, you can just forget it! I’m not a hustler. ”
“We never said ya were, ya little shite,” I replied. “The FBI doesn’t molest people and we sure as ‘ell wouldn’t touch a teenager if we did.” Twice. I’d been called a molester twice in less than twenty-four hours.
He snorted, turning to glare at me. “I’m twenty-six, dude!”
I reached out and grabbed him by the bicep again. “Old enough to know better then, dude. Come on.” I started dragging him toward the entrance gate where we’d paid to come in but he started wriggling to get free, digging his heels into the gravel.
“Let me go!”
“Ya want me to arrest ya sorry arse?”
“Arrest me for what?”
“Arrest you for what you have hidden in that coat,” Mickey replied, taking hold of his other bicep. Between the two of us, we were able to easily haul him through the gate as we headed toward the Camaro.
“What happens when you find out what’s in my coat?”
I glanced down at him. “What do ya ‘ave in the coat?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Hey, where’re you from? Like, England or something?”
I laughed. “I’m from Liverpool, mate.”
He nodded and the sudden smile that lit up his face was almost breathtaking. “Like Paul Hollywood.”
I rolled my eyes as Mickey began cackling.
“Bloody Paul ‘Ollywood,” I grumbled. Ever since Alain had gotten us all hooked on the Great British Baking Show, the guys teased me all the time.
“Hey, the man can make some bread,” the guy in my hold said.
“What’s ya name, anyway?” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked before.
“Cam.”
“Can?”
“Cam…C…A…M.”
“Oh…Cam,” I said, stopping at the Camaro as the door locks popped open. “What kind of name is Cam? Is it short for something? Cameron? Campbell?”
“Camden.” He rolled his eyes at me.
“Camden? That’s a strange name,” I said.
“Oh, yeah? And what’s yours?”
“Mars.”
Cam laughed. “And of course you think Mars is ‘normal.’” He made air quotes. “I guess your mom was big on the solar system, am I right?”
I laughed. “Ya ‘ave a smart mouth.”
He had the good sense to almost look embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“So, where’d the name Camden come from?” Mickey asked.
“Camden Yards. My mom was born in Baltimore, Maryland.”
“Big Orioles fan, is she?”
Cam rolled his eyes. “Isn’t everyone?”
Mickey scoffed. “Not even, man. I’m from New York.”
He narrowed his pretty eyes. “Figured. Mets or Yankees?”
Mickey lost his smile. “Mets? Are you high?”
The man laughed. “Don’t do drugs, Feeb. I guess that makes you a Yankees fan. Too bad, so sad,” he singsonged.
“The entire American League has been crying ever since the Angels won the series, but the Yankees are taking the pennant this year. Just you wait,” Mickey said. “They’re gonna go all the way to the World Series this year.”
“First of all, the Angels are American League, numb nuts. Second of all, New Yorkers are just pissed because a California team has a real shot at the series this year.”
Mickey smirked. “The Yankees have a better track record than the Angels all day long. The Angels haven’t won the series since 2002. At least the Yankees took it in 2009. The odds are on them this year, even here in Vegas.”
“You’re biased because you’re from the Big Apple.” More air quotes.
“How’d you know I was from New York anyway?”
Cam smirked. “You just told me, genius. Besides, I would’ve known that was a New York accent even if you hadn’t told me.”
I snorted, hooking a thumb at him as I glanced at Mickey. “See? Smart arse.”
“Yeah,” Mickey agreed with a frown. “Okay, funny guy. Let’s see what you got in that coat.” He muscled him until he was backed up against the side of the car.
“What you gonna do with it?” he asked, pulling the sides of his coat tightly around his slender frame.
“What are we gonna do with it? We’re gonna see ‘ow much loot ya nicked and then we’re gonna decide if we’re gonna take ya to the police or let ya go.”
“You don’t have any right to do that. You haven’t even read me my rights.”
I chuckled. “This guy.”
Mickey laughed. “Show us what you have in those big pockets and don’t hold back.” He waved a hand up and down over Cam’s coat.
The guy rolled his eyes again, sighing loudly.
“Fine.” He opened his coat and began pulling things out, placing them on the bonnet of my car.
There were three watches, seven pairs of sunglasses, a pile of coins, a tiny heart-shaped gold locket, and a big handful of condoms. When he pulled out a long window wedge, I took it from his hands before he could dent my bonnet with it.
I shoved it into an inner pocket of my jacket and picked up a condom, showing it to him. “Ya found all these in those cars?”
He grinned. “Yeah. The gold foil ones in extra-large are the only ones that’ll actually fit, but you know what they say…safety first!”
I laughed, really liking the guy more than I should.
“What are you planning to do with all this loot?” Mickey asked.
“Seriously? I’m gonna sell it. No one wanted it. If they did, they wouldn’t leave it behind in their cars before they were repossessed or at the very least, picked up their possessions from the tow yard afterward.” The little shit actually sounded mad. “Besides, I gotta help my mom.”
I laughed. “Bullshit.”
He shot me an angry glare. “It’s not bullshit, asswipe. I have to help my mom.”
“’Ow’re ya gonna do that?” I asked.
“What do you think, Ringo?”
I couldn’t help but smirk. The guy was growing on me.
“Answer my partner,” Mickey said. “What are you gonna do with it?”
He glared at Mickey, shrugging. “Gonna…sell…it,” he said slowly, like Mickey was a right ning-nong.
“Oh, really?” I asked. I hated being lied to. The kid was likeable and cute in a twink kinda way…if you liked that kind of thing. “What if I told ya, I don’t believe ya?”
“What if I told you my name is Queen Elizabeth?”
I gasped, holding my hand over my heart. “Then I’d know ya were a liar as well as a thief. The Queen would never be reincarnated in the body of a shitty, little, Vegas dodger.”
“Oh, haha, very funny.” Cam cackled, holding his middle as he pretended to double over. When he straightened, he looked as sober as a judge. “Okay, so, we’ve established I haven’t taken a damned thing that anyone wants, right?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “’Ave we?” I exchanged a glance with Mickey. “I don’t know. I’m partial to this window wedge.” I patted my coat. “And I’m sure someone wants those Versace sunglasses, yeah?”
“Yeah, me,” Cam said, scooping them up before they disappeared into my coat like his tool.
I couldn’t help myself as I started laughing.