Page 114 of Rebellious

He slammed the money in Axel’s hand.

“And free legal stuffs. Remember.”

“I fucking remember, goddamn it.”

“Okay, give us an hour. We were going to do it anyway.”

“What?”

Axel grinned. “My men and me hate those fucking cameras. We’ve figured out how to break them. You’re paying us for what we were going to do for free. Thanks, big bro.”

“You little asshole, you scammed me.”

“I didn’t, cuz you had another fucking choice: wait ‘til morning to see Reb. You weren’t boozled, motherfucker. Don’t fucking say that lie.”

“Bamboozled,” Diesel gritted, “and I certainly was.”

“Whatever, fuckhead. Whatever. Remember give us an hour before you go to Reb’s room.” Axel left with Diesel’s money and his fucking pride.

He’d been swindled by a ten-year-old.

***

Axel: Good to go.

That message arrived sixty-one minutes later; Diesel paced the entire time. Now, relief filled him and he grabbed the packages. His phone chimed again. He almost ignored it but something told him he shouldn’t.

“Fuck!” he snarled, setting the bags down and grabbing his phone from where he’d thrown it on the bed.

Axel: Dad’s locking up. He might hear you. He has x-ray ears.

X-ray ears weren’t a thing, but whatever.

Axel: the least you can do is answer a man, motherfucker. My men and me did a lot of stuffs tonight.

Diesel: Erase these fucking messages. Incriminating evidence. Never leave a paper trail.

Axel: I knew you were senile. This isn’t paper, stupid.

Diesel growled.

Diesel: It IS motherfucking evidence, you little asshole.

On the rare occasions Diesel videotaped club business, he used burners and then destroyed them once he showed the appropriate people.

Axel: Tisk, tisk. You’re salty cuz of the money.

Diesel: No shit. And it’s tsk, tsk.

Axel: Nuh-uh. I hear an i when that word is said out loud.

Diesel: Spoken, you mean?

Axel: Stop being painful loser. It looks bad on you.

Diesel: Sore loser. Who likes to lose?

Axel: Rory, cuz he likes Uncle Johnnie, and that motherfucker was born a loser.