“So, you would know if he was into that stuff.”
Crybaby sighed haggardly.
“Oh! He used to own this fuckin’ leather bar,” Junior chimed in with a grin. “Hot ass place in Strassen Springs. Legendary. Called Slick Rick’s.”
“Never heard of it.” Noah leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door.
“Of course not, you fuck.” Junior snorted. “It burned the fuck down in a fuckin’ mob war—”
“Junior.” Crybaby cut her eyes at him, the steel of her gaze silencing him. She looked at Noah, forcing a tight smile. “If you have questions about Mr. Star, you should ask Mr. Star.”
“Yeah.” Noah rolled his eyes.
I’ll get right on that.
Crybaby’s phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. She glanced at the screen, and then she looked up at Junior. “I gotta take this.”
“Ah. Is it the ol’ ball and chain?” Junior grinned.
“My wife is a beautiful lady, and I fuckin’ love her. Stop perpetuating the stereotype that everyone who’s married is fuckin’ miserable. It’s not healthy to promote marital resentment as being normal.” She scoffed. “Why would you marry someone you don’t fuckin’ like, huh?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know.” Junior was taken aback by her rant. “My parents fuckin’ did it. My old man always called my mom stuff like that.”
“And they’re divorced!”
“So?”
Crybaby sighed. “Make sure our little guest behaves.” She left the room abruptly, slamming the door behind her.
“Fuckin’ touchy.” Junior snorted.
Now that it was just the two of them, Noah sized Junior up.
Maybe he could take him.
Junior was tall but pretty skinny. He wasn’t entirely unhandsome, but Noah wasn’t thinking about fucking him—he was trying to figure out if he could kick his ass.
Probably.
But the gun was a bit of a problem.
“The fuck is your deal?” Junior demanded. “Why yous eyeballin’ me?”
“Sorry.” Noah forced a smile. “Your, uh, parents divorced? That sucks.”
“Yeah, but it was a fuckin’ while ago.” Junior stiffened. “Ma left my old man back in Strassen Springs and brought us here. Ain’t seen the bastard in years.”
“That sucks, yeah.” Noah scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Is that, uh, when you met Alistair? Back in Strassen?”
“What? No, stupid. I was, like, a little kid. We woulda never met. We met here in Moultrie.”
“Oh, right. Hmm. But you said Alistair used to own a leather bar?”
Noah knew he couldn’t beat the gun, but he could definitely get Junior to talk. With no Crybaby here, there wasn’t anyone to stop him.
“Yeah.” Junior grinned. “Like real old-school leather Daddies and shit. Alistair is all about it.” His grin turned sly. “I guess you are too.”
“What about you?” Noah quickly deflected. “You into that stuff?”
