Ghost made a choking sound.
“You’re gonna kill Ghost with jokes like that,” I said. “He’s not used to laughing. Also, fuck you. I’m not a den mother.”
Joyride smirked. “That’swhy this whole thing has reminded me of Boy Scouts.”
I flipped him the bird. “Go get plates and silverware. There’s some potato salad in the fridge too. Grab that.”
Hollywood pushed out of his chair. “I’ll go supervise.”
“I don’t need a boss,” Joyride sniped.
“Too bad. You’ve got three of them.”
They continued to bicker as the screen door slapped shut and they headed for the kitchen. Ghost shifted over to the grill.
“Those look great.”
“Yep.” I pressed my tongs into the top of one, feeling for how much give it had. “They should be about done.”
It would be better to let them rest, but we didn’t have all night. So, when Joyride emerged with plates, I slid a steak onto each and we all crowded in around the tiny bistro table on the porch.
Hollywood brought out a bag of barbecue chips along with the potato salad. It wasn’t a gourmet pairing, but hell, we were mostly excited for the meat, anyway.
“Ghost, toss me another beer?”
He pulled one out and tossed it my way. I caught it and set it on the table.
Hollywood had fetched another IPA for himself, and Joyride was still nursing the Coors. I got the feeling the kid didn’t like beer but didn’t want to admit it.
“I’ve got soda inside,” I told him.
“Fuck off,” he said. “I’m over twenty-one.”
“I know that. Just realized I’d never asked if you liked beer.”
He shrugged. “It’s no Gatorita, I guess.”
“Gator-whata?” Hollywood asked.
“It’s Gatorade and tequila.”
“Ugh. Do you vomit blue when you can’t hold your liquor?”
Joyride laughed. “Or purple or red. But hey, at least you’re getting your electrolytes with the alcohol.”
“That’s either stupid as hell or total genius,” Hollywood said.
I chuckled and took a swig of my beer. “I’m glad my partying days are over. Trying to keep up with the Serpents was brutal.”
Joyride turned toward me. “The Serpents?”
“Motorcycle club. We were a small subset, actually. Sons of Serpents. We did a lot of the petty jobs for the larger club.”
“Whoa,” he said, sounding more impressed with me than before. “So you were, like, a real badass then?”
“I was a criminal,” I said bluntly. “Just like everyone here.”
“Not me,” Joyride said. “Not really. Not like…like you. I mean, I fucked up.” His voice grew heavy. “I made such a stupid mistake. Ruined everything for no reason. But I wasn’t a badass, you know. Just an idiot.”
