I frowned, my face and heart feeling too heavy.
“But don’t worry. I’ll be making sure someone is watching out for you when I’m not able. Let’s get you two set up for the night. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Scar, claiming to be President over all the chapters now that the General was dead, gave me a house, just like that. “Get comfortable. Tomorrow Anarchy will be here to clean out her belongings.”
He tells me to steer clear of her and then gives me her home? “You think this is a good idea?”
“She won’t be home tonight, anyhow.”
All I could think was about where she’d be spending the night instead. Surely not with Cowboy. If Scar didn’t put two guards on me, I’d take the baby to find him. In two weeks I hadn’t spent a night without him protecting me. I went to sleep feeling like a prisoner again.
Cowboy
When Scar tried to shoot me, I ran off toward the clubhouse.
“Can you believe him. I rescue his sister, and this is the thanks I get.”
“What makes you think you could go stuffing Scar’s sister’s box and him not kill you?” Harlot poured me a whiskey.
“I’ve not touched her.”
“What are you a pussy?” Blackjack asked at my elbow. “Broke dick?”
Harlot went on. “You? Not pull your dick out on a girl? Yeah, I’ll believe that when Toes here flies.”
“You calling me a pig woman. I hear you like bacon. I got a bacon flavored lolly for ya’ to suck on.”
Almost the whole gang had come back from running off Snakebite to either join Wanda at the hospital or to come here and drink to the General. He’d passed, and I’d assumed Scar had killed him but no, it’d been Snakebite. There was chaos as everyone debated what to do, take the fight to the Sons of Satan or wait for Scar’s orders since he was technically President now.
“I’ve known the General longer than any of you fucks, so I should get to kill Snakebite,” Root announced.
“Naw, I’ve known him longer,” Chug argued.
“I’m tired of this dick measuring contest,” Zod said. “We all want to kill Snakebite. Scar’s gonna get to.”
All Root heard was dick measuring contest. Then an all-inclusive literal dick measuring contest commenced. “Stack em’ up boys,” Chug said.
As asinine as it seemed, I about teared up. The General loved a good literal dick measuring contest.
“Cowboy, bring your junk over here, if you’re not longer than Zod, I think we have a winner.”
Nursing my whiskey, I declined.
Bolt called out, “You forgot his dick don’t work. Or he left it in Scar’s baby sister.”
I shook my head. I wouldn’t be goaded into a fight. Not tonight.
Then young Hawk spoke up, “Did you see her? If Cowboy’s prick doesn’t work around that, he must have left it in Anarchy…” I listened to him a while. “If Halley needs a dick, sign me up… Too bad we can’t initiate her up in the stables tonight…”
Then I heard a brother, say, “Hey, Anarchy.”
The bitch strode in just when I was thinking of giving Hawk something to talk about. In other words, I was about to go knock his fucking teeth in. Not because his gab about my ex or that he suggested we treat Halley like one of our whores, but because I’d been so careful with her. Hawk just reminded me my brothers wouldn’t be.
Back from the hospital, you’d think Anarchy would be grieving, but she was handling the death of her father in her own way. The way she handled everything, by having more alcohol than she could handle. I ignored her until I couldn’t. Topless, she danced on the bar in front of me. If you looked up life of the party in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of Anarchy beside it. The reason I wassmitten with her from the get go was because she’d kept me entertained. Nevertheless, all that partying and booze had a dark side.
I left the bar.
One minute she’d be happier than a pig in shit, and the next your worst nightmare. A number one psycho, she was. Her titties still out, she made her way over to me with two cold draft beers. Getting drunk with her was the last thing I wanted to do. I worried about Halley and her baby. I hadn’t left her side in two weeks. But I didn’t have to worry about getting drunk with Anarchy. She poured both those cold draft beers right over my head. “Where’s your hat cowboy?”
