Kenny set the bottles in front of them.
“I got it, Diesel,” Mortician said, handing Kenny a twenty.
“Let me get your change, Mort,” the kid said, starting for the register but diverted by a call from one of the guys at the other end of the bar.
“That little motherfucker better not forget my fucking change.”
“Lucky for you I didn’t order a bottle of Scotch,” Diesel said.
“Lucky foryou, ‘causeIwouldn’t have paid for it.”
Diesel snickered.
“Cheers, brother.” Mort tapped his bottle against Diesel’s and then swigged. “Talked to CJ?”
“Only in passing.” Diesel didn’t know what the fuck to say to him. He’d never been a threat of any kind to CJ. “Nothing in depth.”
“Don’t hold his spoiled fucking behavior against him.”
“I never do.”
“Youtrynot to, but we both know this not CJ. Besides, even the most understanding motherfucker would have a fucking problem with the way he acted.”
“What do you want me to say? CJ and I will get past this or we won’t.”
“CJ a good kid—”
“I know, Mortician,” Diesel said irritably. “I’m going to make up to him.”
The enforcer sipped his beer. “CJ got his own trauma. He saw Meggie shot. He was with her when Mystic kidnapped her. He saw Johnnie fingerprints on her neck after that motherfucker tried to strangle her and ran all the way to the fucking club to get Outlaw, and a whole bunch of other shit over the years. Of course he was possessive of her. Whether she did it on purpose, she gave CJ a lot of say so, especially with her. Even if it was subconscious, it eased the kid, so he didn’t think he was a step away from losing her.”
“Then, he saw her collapse and start hemorrhaging.”
Mortician nodded. “And thought Jo died on top of that. The way he went off on you had to hurt.”
“I haven’t thought about it since he left the meatshack,” Diesel said, and gulped his beer. He wasn’t lying. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about it. “It’s done. I can’t change it.”
“I love that kid,” Mort said.
Diesel finished his beer. “I know.”
“But your feelings important, too. I guess we all just fucking overlooked what you went through. I hope you know my door always open for you to talk about anything.”
Rebel rose in Diesel’s head, and what a motherfucker he’d been to her. “I doubt that,” he said, sighing.
“Some things Iwillfuck you up over, but if Prez and Meggie trust you with their girl, I won’t doubt you. I’ll have the same faith that you got morals and decency toward my niece. As long as you don’t lose your fucking mind that way, I’ll listen to you, offer advice if you need it, and keep it between us.”
Diesel stood a little taller. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “I appreciate that.”
“As for CJ, we can only steer him and hope he right himself. I think he fucking furious with himself with the way he handled a bunch of shit and I think he fucking grieving for the trusting kid he was before those fuckheads did what they did.”
“Here’s your cake, Diesel,” Aunt Meggie said, drawing Diesel’s attention to two huge cakes on a cart.
The first cake was shaped like a garbage can with beer, cigarettes, condoms, and money falling out, with the words,Happy Dirty Thirty, Diesel. It was as much a work of art as the second one, shaped like a bottle ofHennessey.Uncle Christopher walked in right before Diesel blew out the candles on the second cake and everyone cheered.
The bottle shaped cake was chocolate, and the garbage can cake had several flavors. Vanilla with buttercream filling for the can with silver icing; lemon with hibiscus filling for the beer, salted caramel for the cigarettes, pistachio for the money, and red velvet for the condoms. The kids had their choice of ice cream, butCristalwas served to the adults.
Admittedly, half of the guestshatedchampagne, but Aunt Meggie knew Diesel liked it sparingly and bought his favorite brand.
