“Code for what?”
“I’ve been alive quite a few years. I’ve never heard those two words put together before.”
“‘Cause you live in an apartment.”
“Oh! The lawn? There’s something wrong with the lawn?”
Perish, the ex-con, current arms-dealing biker who could be confused for an actual wall, had a weird obsession with the lawn at the club.
To be fair, said ‘lawn’ had been nearly nonexistent when he’d started to prospect. Too many long, hot summers with water restrictions, too many bikes driving over it, too many people who didn’t care about things like grass, weeds, and aeration meant it had withered away to nothing.
Until, over the years, Perish had lovingly brought it back to life. I’d never seen such lush green grass in my life. But also, for the life of me, couldn’t imagine why he cared so much.
To be fair, he would likely feel the same way if he knew about my scrapbooking obsession.
We all had our things, I guess.
“Nut sedge. Bad weed,” he explained. “Gardeners can’t get a handle on it.”
“And the lawn has to be perfect for the wedding season.”
“Yep. Thought I saw you when I was walking up. Came in just as you ripped the poor schmuck’s cock off.”
A little snort escaped me at that.
“It’s a disaster. They’re going to be here any minute.”
“No expert, but… slush plus time seems like it would turn to ice quick.”
“Right. Yeah. Like… ice glue. Okay. I can do that. Thanks.”
To that, he gave me a nod.
“I’ll leave you to your various dicks,” he said, gesturing around me.
“It’s a, uh…”
“Divorce party?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m out in these streets too. She hot?”
There was no stopping the eye roll at that. Even after a lifetime of being around the bikers, their borderline obsession with casual sex never ceased to amaze me.
“She sure is. She has the most gorgeous gray hair.” She was about sixty. With that effervescent gorgeousness I sincerely hoped I would possess at her age.
“Good pussy is good pussy,” he said with a shrug.
The slap to his chest was pure instinct, something I would have done to any number of my male cousins for the same vulgar comment.
His smirk was just as knee-jerk.
“While I appreciate that you are an equal opportunity hornball, I need to fix my sculpture before everyone gets here.”
“Yeah, better hurry up before he loses an inch. What is he, thirteen inches?”
“It’s… a book thing,” I admitted. “It’s why his skin is blue too.”
