“I’m into whatever I can get into, ya feel me? I’ll try fuckin’ anything once.” Junior paused. “Except waxin’. That seems like it would fuckin’ hurt.”
“You said Alistair lost that bar, right?”
“He didn’t lose it. It wasn’t like oops, where did my bar go? It got fuckin’ toasted, hello. Burned to a crisp when Boss Cold was fightin’ them Luchesi fucks.”
“Who?”
Junior stared. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“What?” Noah scowled. “Who’s Boss Cold?”
“The motherfuckin’ king of Strassen Springs, like, the head honcho of all organized crime in the fuckin’ state?” Junior laughed. “He’s got fuckin’ connections all over the fuckin’ country. Come on.”
“Well, Cold’s a stupid name, and sorry, I must have missed the Netflix special about local gangsters.”
“Hmmph. Well, he’s helpin’ us look for your stupid uncle, fuckface. Best you say it with some fuckin’ respect on it.”
Noah’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, well…” He swallowed a curse. “Isn’t that nice of him.”
“Oh, yeah.” Junior leaned against the wall. “Mr. Star and Cold known each others a long fuckin’ time. I think maybe they met at his bar, actually.”
“How’d you guys meet? You and Mr. Star, I mean.”
“Aren’t you just all kinds of fuckin’ curious?” Junior cocked his head. “What’s up with you?”
“What? I can’t get to know my captor a little better?” Noah tried for a calm smile.
“Nah… you’re up to somethin’.”
“Maybe I wanna know more about my uncle,” Noah said carefully.
Gritting his teeth, Junior spat, “Ain’t shit to tell. Your uncle killed my fuckin’ best friend, and I’m gonna make sure we kill the shit out of him.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you. Your sorry ain’t worth shit.” Junior stared over at the wall. “Asshole.”
“Good!” Noah snapped. “I didn’t fuckin’ mean it anyway!”
“I hope yous and your fuckin’ uncle choke on a fuckin’ cement cock and crack all your fuckin’ teeth on the balls, ya fuckin’ slicked-up pricks!”
It took Noah a few seconds to fully process the threat. When it registered, his immediate response was to laugh. “What the fuck?”
Junior was confused, but still angry as he barked, “The fuck?”
“Where the hell do you come up with this shit? Talking about Crisco and balls and all that?”
Junior actually laughed, and some of his anger faded. “Fuck, I dunno. Just pops into my fuckin’ head. My old man used to say some crazy ass shit too.” His brow wrinkled, and he stared down at his feet, falling silent.
“Tell me about him.”
Noah had to keep the conversation going. He couldn’t think of anything else to do except to get Junior to talk more. Nobody else was being forthcoming with any information, but maybe Junior would let something slip Noah could work with.
And do exactly what, Noah didn’t know. He couldn’t wait around forever letting Alistair give him blue balls, and he still wasn’t convinced Uncle Patrick had killed anyone.
“Him who?” Junior glared. “My old man? Fuck off.”
“What about your friend? Carbone?” Noah shrugged. “I never had a best friend before. That must have been nice.”
