Logan smirks at me. “You want to empty my pockets, Chaos? Put your hands in and see if I notice.”
Thor leans against the doorframe while I drag the card table to the middle of the break room. “The fuck are you so smiley about?” Thor crosses over the threshold and grabs a chair, flips it around, and places it next to the table before straddling it backward and crossing his arms over the back.
“Kelly gave me a tarot reading,” I reply, dropping into the chair across from him, still grinning like a bastard over that tarot read from Kelly and the uncertainty I painted on her face. Tonight, I saw the doubt. She takes all that mysticism shit as gospel. It’s one thing for me to tell her she should dump her boyfriend, but to watch her face in real time as the oracle backed me up? Glorious. I didn’t even have to push, just stacked the deck and let her convince herself I was right.
“Did the cards tell you I was going to take all your money?” Casper asks, walking in with a bag of food tucked under his arm. For somebody who eats all the fucking time, he never seems toput on any weight. Like a goddamn tapeworm, good at hiding and usually up somebody’s ass.
I raise a brow. “Pretty bold talk for somebody who still owes me twenty bucks for lunch last week.”
Casper slides into the chair adjacent to me and crosses his arms. “Pretty bold talk for someone who still owes me six hundred from Vegas.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Motherfucker, do I look like someone who goes to Vegas?”
Casper narrows his eyes at me for a beat, then relaxes and sits back, rubbing his forehead. “Shit. Who the fuck owes me money from Vegas?” I do, but he was so blitzed I’m taking six hundred as an inconvenience fee. Nothing inconvenienced me more than making sure he didn’t die that weekend.
“Probably some sketch client,” Thor replies. He and I split the six hundred. “Quit bringing degenerates in here.”
Casper barks out a laugh. “Says the felon who tattoos gang members.”
Thor doesn’t blink. He has a little side gig where he covers up gang tattoos for guys wanting to get a fresh start. He keeps it under the radar, and as long as he’s not bringing me trouble, I don’t care what he does with his free time. His clients know if they snitch about who does their work, he’ll give their location to the wrong people. He still stays in contact with a lot of the guys he met in prison.
“Be honest, though, are you doing it out of the goodness of your heart or because you just want karma to stop kicking your ass?”
“Are you actually billing them?” I ask. “Or is this one of those ‘good deed’ things I keep hearing about?”
Thor shakes his head and begins shuffling the cards for stud poker. “I mean, if you want to call pro bono identity fraud a good deed . . .” Casper mutters.
“For real, though, do you make any money on this?” The ex-con stares at me with a tired gaze, like he’s waiting for me to finish cracking jokes so we can get on with the game—he really takes the fun out of it. “Or do they pay you in butterfly kisses?”
“He takes money for it,” Casper answers.
“Uh-oh, lost some moral high ground there, Hawthorne,” I tsk, using his full first name. “Might want to consider starting a Hugs for Thugs mentorship program to make up for it.”
“Or free touch-ups on Mafia Makeover Mondays.”
“Fuck both of you,” Thor replies, dealing our hands. “If anybody fucks with mob bosses, it’s Casper. How many favors have you racked up now?”
“Please, I deal in cash only. You’re the only one dumb enough to keep them on fucking favor retainer.”
“Favors are worth more than cash,” Thor grunts. After years in prison, cash is just paper to him. Favors, on the other hand, that’s leverage money can’t buy.
I roll my eyes and turn toward Casper. “Speaking of, that guy still reaching out to you?”
He groans. “No, but his girlfriend is. Luckily, I’m not stupid.”
Casper isn’t swayed by pussy, never has been, probably because he’s got the uncanny ability to charm the literal panties off women. However, he doesn’t just take the first girl to fall in his lap, he’s far too selective for that. It’s all about the chase for him—anything that’ll give him a rush. He lives for an adrenaline high.
We throw some money in the pot and begin.
Casper peeks at his cards. “Wow, this is gonna hurt.” He glimpses up at us. “You, not me.”
“Why do we keep inviting him?” I ask, my question directed at Thor. “Because if we played with two people,” Thor starts, scooping a burger from the bag of food next to Casper, “we’d be playing Go Fish.”
“Great game,” Casper muses, gazing at his cards. I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. We ignore him.
“So, Kelly gave you a tarot reading,” Thor says. “Still letting the cards do what your spine won’t?”
I level him with an unimpressed stare. Thor chuckles. “Rig the cards again?”
