“Oh, I don’t know,” Teddy says. “He was a mean poker player. I used to say he hid aces in his hair.”
We all break out in laughter. Nikita’s curly brown hair had gone through a dozen stages when he was younger before he decided to cut it short about a year before his death. It still curled up in little cowlicks when it was wet, but at least it looked less like a mop.
“It was better after he cut it,” I say. “Way better. He looked like an adult.”
“I’m out.” Dodge slaps his hand on the table bitterly.
“Smart move,” said Teddy. Dodge just gives him an annoyed look.
“Hey,” said Scam, “Word on the street is that his daughter’s back from Europe.” He starts snapping his fingers. “What was her name?”
“Tatiana,” I say.
“Right, right. You know, Heila works at the airport. She said that Nikolai had his goons drag her back.” Scam pauses and looks at me. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I say.
Scam laughs. “Anyway, she told me that King Nick’s daughter got into some trouble overseas and that’s why he had her brought back home.”
“What kind of trouble?” Teddy asks, and Scam shrugs.
“I mean, what kind of trouble could a young girl get into overseas?”
“Depends on where she was.”
I lean back to separate myself from the conversation. I can almost feel them circling around to ask me my thoughts about all that.
“Probably selling pussy,” Dodge says as he lights up a cigarette. “It’s legal in some countries over there.”
That makes me look up and lock back into the conversation. “That’s not possible,” I say.
Dodge takes a drag from his cigarette and asks, “How do you know? Were you one of the goons who brought her back?”
“I know because she’s Nikolai’s daughter.” I give him a hard glare. “Not some random girl looking for thrills. There’s no way in Hell he’d let that fly, and everyone knows that. Especially her.”
“Never said he did,” Dodge says with a little shrug. “But he sends his guys to Europe to bring his daughter back to the States instead of just paying for her ticket to come back on her own. Sounds like something happened he had to drag her away from.”
“Maybe she had a boyfriend or something,” says Scam, clearly trying to veer the conversation in another direction. I’m not about to let it go.
I set my cards down and lean onto the table, lean in toward him. If he’s got something to say, I’m daring him to do it to my face. “So, you think she was over there whoring herself out, then?”
“I think that whatever she was doing, it was enough for King Nick to drag her back. That’s all.” He takes another drag from his cigarette. “Not my fault that the shit’s legal over there. Pretty young thing like her ends up in another country on her own and needs to make easy money? Why not do something strange for some change?”
I smile at him, but it’s more like a dog showing his teeth. There’s nothing on earth I would enjoy more than beating the fuck out of him right now.
Teddy says, “Dodge, why don’t you go check those kegs? Make sure we’re not running out of the house special.”
He waves his cigarette toward the bartender. “That’s Sandy’s job?—”
“Well, I’m making it yours.” Teddy stares at him, and I see a silent communication jump between them. Dodge averts his eyes almost immediately and leaves the table. Once he’s gone, he says, “Sorry about that, Vik. Dodge can’t help himself. He’s a fucking idiot.”
I snicker. Dodge doesn’t know it, but Teddy might’ve saved his life. If a fight had broken out, Dodge might not see tomorrow. I’m not in the habit of losing fights. I play to win.
It’s almost dawn.Teddy and I are sitting up on the roof of the club watching twilight change from darkness to light. Orange and yellow streaks are starting to appear on the horizon and within the hour, it’ll be morning.
The party went on as parties do at the club. Drinking, arguments, even a few small dust-ups around the bar. For the Red Devils, it was just another Saturday night.
For me, it was a chance to spend some time remembering my friend. It’s something that’s special to me. More than even Teddy knows. We’re sitting on folding chairs the way the three of us used to at the end of a party, drinking the last of the beers and sharing a joint.
