“Nah. I’ll get some nuggets later.”
“Nuggets?” Rubi’s eyes widened as if I’d told him I was gonna double drop booms on the school run. “Mother of Dragons, there’s no helping you.”
He stropped off, genuinely offended. I watched him go, smoking up a storm to vanquish the ache in my chest, but being back here, even though I’d never been here with Vik, made pushing him out of my mind so much harder.
I need a fucking drink.
And lucky for me, it was beer o’clock somewhere.
I finished my smoke and went back for my boots, scooping up Ivy’s poking stick so I didn’t trip over it later.
Then I stomped to the bar, ignoring every twat along the way. There was still enough anti-Crow sentiment kicking around that I didn’t have many friends, unless I counted the gremlins tracking my every move.
Ivy had her eye on the stick.
I threw it on the roof. She produced another from behind her back and raced across the yard, skidding to a stop in front of me.
“It’s dinner time. You’re not allowed beer first.”
“Says who?”
“Everyone.”
“And where is everyone, eh? Why are you talking to me?”
Ivy poked me with the new stick and charged away again, linking up with Liliana. I scoped the yard for Folk, knowing he wouldn’t be far away, but he remained elusive and I got bored looking.
I shoved the bar door open, subjecting myself to an instant blast of shite metal music and a waft of stale beer. Though, I couldn’t deny the place was a hell of a lot cleaner than the MCs I’d been haunting the past few months.
The music could still die in a fire. I moved away from it, to the quieter side of the bar where a prospect was changing the beermats and some old timer snored like he was playing a kazoo up his own arse.
Hate this place.
Cos Vik wasn’t here.
The prospect recognised me and cracked a bottle from the fridge, adding a Jägerbomb on the side. Like the lad knew he didn’t want to spend the next few hours with me if I didn’t get some caffeine in my belly.
And he wasn’t wrong. I knocked back the Red Bull-laced shot and swigged my beer, already itching for another smoke. But that meant walking the death-metal gauntlet again and I wasn’t in the fucking mood.
My beer ran dry. I signalled for another and dug cash from my back pocket.
The prospect waved it away. “You’re an officer.”
“Am I fuck.” I slapped the money on the bar. Free drinks meant work, and I wasn’t here for that either. “Keep them coming.”
The prospect looked unsure, but I had a stink eye mean enough that he did what he was told. Unless he really did think I had a seat at the table, an idea that could do one. With the Crows, being on the council had meant an obligation to be a Grade A cunt. For the Kings, it seemed to mean a man was destined to almost die on a monthly basis, and honestly, fuck that. I wasn’t one of those hippies that loved life, but I wasn’t done with it yet either.
Cos you can’t die without seeing him again.
Dear Brain,
Shut the fuck up.
No one ever listened to me. Not even myself. I drank enough to gain the edge. Got hungry and ate three bags of Monster Munch.
I was polishing off the last bag when Decoy ducked behind the bar. I pointed an unlit rollie at him. “Your kid poked me with a stick.”
He winced. “Sorry. Rubi probably told her to.”
