Joker gives a rare grin as he dons his helmet. “Will do, boss.”
As we head down the strip, Selkie starts shaking. “Please don’t let them be dead.”
“Yeah,” I say, the thought overwhelming me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Henri
For some reason I’m not scared anymore. Mom always says, if someone’s gonna shit on you, showing fear and begging is not going to make them change their mind. But showing attitude makes you feel more in control. More powerful. And maybe makes them respect you. She says none of the women in our family take shit. If we go down, we go down fighting.
Oscar knows this too. He’s cool that way. Like his dad. But he’s kind of pissing me off trying to protect me. I mean, I appreciate him having my back, but he’s not gonna be able to save me if Renfrew gets hostile.
We’re standing in front of Renfrew. Oscar’s next to me, holding my hand. His grip tightens as Sadie, the Blackbeard that mom almost got, weaves his way up to us.
“Hey,” he says in a loud voice. “I know that brat!” He’s clearly high or drunk or both, so his finger wavers as he points at me. I figure Oscar and I are dead now.
“Oh, hell,” I whisper.
“I seen you before,” he says to me.
Time to keep the Fleming legend alive. “Where?” I taunt. “Because I’ve never seen anyone as ugly as you!”
Sadie sneers. “I’ll figure it out, you little c?—”
Oscar steps in front of me and I so want to kick him, but don’t, because, obv.
“Watch what you’re calling my girl, asshole,” he says, sounding so cool, like he’s a badass biker.
Sadie staggers back. “I seen you, too. Not sure where from.” He taps his temple. “But I’ll remember, then you’ll be fucked.”
As Sadie walks unsteadily away, Oscar says, “When you do let us know.”
“It was probably at that AA meeting he accidentally stumbled into,” I say to Oscar. “He thought it was Asshole’s Anonymous.”
“Stop, Henri,” he says sharply.
What a hypocrite. “Stopping, Lord of the Universe,” I reply.
Renfrew’s not amused. “Who the fuck let him in?” Then before anyone can reply, he says to me, “How does he know you?”
“He dated my mom once.” I give myself a mental high-five for thinking so quickly.
Renfrew grimaces. “She need glasses?”
I shake my head. “She’s got plenty. They’re all full of booze.” I am on a roll.
Renfrew tires of the conversation as he looks me up and down. “You ain’t much to look at.”
“Is that a requirement?” I reply, feeling a little hurt even though I tell myself his opinion doesn’t matter.
He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “If it was, I’d be the only one in the gang.”
“Hey,” Soprano interjects.
“Shut up,” Renfrew says to her. He turns his attention back to us, or more specifically, Oscar. “You’re pretty fucking young. You’re not from the slums.” He tilts his head towards Oscar’s runners. “Why are you here?”
Oscar shrugs. “Why not? Mom’s dead, dad’s an asshole. Never home. And when he is, he kicks me around.”
