“Is that a thing?” Oak shot Easy a bewildered look.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, already over the pair of them. They were annoying as hell on their own, but together? Fuck my life.
“Where the fuck is George?” I asked, realizing the bartender was missing.
“They took everyone they could.” Oak winced when he said it, which was the only thing that kept me from making cracks about the pair of them being left behind.
I ran the edge of my nails along the stubble of my jaw and stared at them until I was forced to throw both hands out in front of me.
“Do I need to pay one of you to spit it the fuck out? Where the fuck are they?”
“Meeting with the mafia,” Easy announced, with all the simpleness of saying someone had gone to mass.
I squinted, silently conveying a need for more details while he tipped his beer bottle, holding my gaze while his Adam's apple bobbed.
The malice in his eyes glistened as my patience wore thin watching that leisurely swallow a second time.
When it happened a third time and it was clear he was trying to make me beg, I lost it.
I shot forward, prepared to shove that bottle down his narrow throat just to help him empty the motherfucker a little quicker.
We’d been brothers for more than twenty years, he knew better than to stand there sucking that glass like I wouldn’t put a knot upside his head. His dumbass threw the bottle between us, shot off the stool and put up his fists.
Even as he braced for impact, and my legs were baptized in a shower of brown glass shards, he was smiling like a fool.
“I told you. Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you.” He giddily boasted to Oak.
“Tell him what?” I roared, “Where is the club? What the fuck is going on?” I reached out to tap his cheek with the left hand. He confidently took the bait, swatting my left hand away. The moment he did, I blessed his opposite cheek as hard as I could. “Stop giggling like a bitch and be serious, damn it!”
Oak, who had been coming to us with glistening eyes and a broad grin, lost control of his face when he heard the impact.
Easy was such a show off. He couldn’t just box me like a fucking man.
No, no.
He hugged my waist and hefted me up, over the stool and onto the counter. I had to make a snap decision to defend myself or catch the edge of the counter.
If it hadn’t happened as fast as it did, I might have been embarrassed that I locked both legs around his waist and balled up with both arms in front of my face.
He might have been a marine, but he was a mean fucker and fought to win, not for honor or glory. When he couldn’t land what he wanted to my face, and I actually swung back, he punched me high on the inner thigh. He didn’t catch anything precious, but it still took my breath away, leaving me gaping just like that big dummy he called a bestie.
I shot my legs open and he headbutted me, sending me sprawling over the counter to the hard floor beyond. I was seeing stars before my ass left the counter, the way my head snapped off the floor, and the hard wood caught my tailbone was just an insult to injury.
“Told him you didn’t fuck Crystal Nance. Who could and still come in here with all that inside of ‘em.” Easy shit talked, while I clutched my face, and marveled over the lack of blood.
“Mark and the guys went to Chicago. Some assholes from the mob showed up at Mark’s house yesterday morning. They made an offer and it was voted in last night. He was counting on you to back C.C. on the ride up.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Congrats. We’re coke dealers now.”
“What?” My eyes shot open and I shoved myself to a sitting position, only to be met with little flashes and sparkles in my field of vision.
I groaned and held my temple. The distinct sound of a bottle being opened nearby and then the cap shot past me at what sounded like bullet speed.
“Goddamn it,” I snapped at my brother, landing a glare on him.
He blew me a kiss and returned to his beer.
