Page 71 of Property of Bob

Piney answered. “Not much yet. Battery’s good. Cranks but won’t catch. Could be fuel. Could be electrical.”

Ashland nodded once, then looked back at me.

Yesterday, he’d been in a hospital bed. Today, he was sitting in a wheelchair in front of my broken RV, surrounded by his club, looking at me like coming back here had been the most obvious thing in the world.

I shook my head. “This is insane.”

“What?”

“You.”

“What about me?” he asked.

“You’re supposed to be recovering.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“Yep.”

“You walked out of the hospital.”

“Got discharged,” he corrected me.

I squinted down at him. “I’d like to know which one of the doctors you threatened to sign your discharge papers.”

He leaned back in the wheelchair. “There was no threatening. I like to call it persuasion.”

Skull chuckled and shook his head. “That’s a creative way of putting it. I wonder if the doc whose knees you threatened to break would feel the same.”

My jaw dropped. “Ashland,” I scolded. “I don’t know why you thought you had to get out of that hospital.”

“Because I’m done having everyone else handle my shit.”

I frowned. “Your shit?”

“You.”

My mouth opened.

Pearl made a small sound.

Prime coughed again.

Ashland looked around. “Everybody fuck off.”

Nobody moved.

Anchor laughed.

Ashland glared at him. “I mean it.”

Anchor jerked his chin.

Slowly, everyone started drifting away.

Not far.