Chapter Twenty
Everyone Has a Line
Big Vick
The run went smoothly, thank God. Anthony somehow managed not to complain once about the cracked ribs I gifted him, or his busted face.
It was all for the best, Mark would have blown a gasket if someone messed things up a second time.
It was a lot of miles for a two-day stretch and all the tension we were packing, and I was already over it. I’d just climbed out of the shower, and laid my ass down, when my phone rang. I flubbed my lips, rubbed my face and half hoped whoever it was gave up after the second ring, but the sound just went on forever.
“Yeah,” I greeted, even as I took note of the time in the corner of the screen, and Mark’s name.
One in the freaking morning.
“Really?” I whispered, only to groan when I saw the speakerphone button lit up. I hadn’t meant to press that.
“Really what, asshole?” Mark clipped.
I laughed and rubbed my face again, “Nothing, man. Just… a lot of moving and shaking today, that’s all. What’s up? What’s going on?”
“Get dressed. We’re going to Springfield.”
“Fuck you,” I scoffed, while shaking my head back and forth on the pillow like he was there to see my denial.
“Fuck me? No. Fuck Anthony. I just finished telling Demetre Valentino that I had the best runner in the mid-west. I don’t have time for him to be playing grab ass and trying to bury his nose in Miss Thing. Get. Dressed.”
“Mark, she’s a fucking girl, alright?”
“She’s a grown woman. A stripper, and a fucking problem,” Mark shot back.
I couldn’t help the laughter, I really couldn’t.
“Do you hear yourself right now? She’s a stripper and a fuckin problem? Truly?” I flubbed my lips and laughed all over again.
“Easy just showed up at my son’s house looking to score.” Mark sniffed.
My amusement dried in my throat.
“What?”
“He showed up at my fucking daughter-in-law’s home and thought he was gonna score.”
“Fuck you– Stop playing with me right now.”
“I’m not playing with you. One brother is spinning out of control like he’s never seen an ass twitch before, the other is so far out there he’s coming to family doorsteps looking for problems.”
“Wh–? How fuckin’ long has he had a problem? He doesn't have a problem, Mark. He’s a soldier. They wouldn’t let him over there if he was doing junkie shit. Think about it, alright. He’s… He’s a fucking marine...” I implored.
The silence doubled and thickened, until I thought the call had dropped.
“Hello? You th–?”
“Do you know the best way to clear a jungle when you’re being hunted, Vick?” he asked in that quiet, eerie tone he often got when he spoke about the war.
“Are you trying to tell me he came home like this? He’s on leave for Christ’s sake. He has to go back.”
“I didn’t call to chatter about another man’s need for intervention. I’m telling you, Mak came back here with him. They got coked out, and Easy started talking.”
