Page 43 of Dirty

“Man’s got to make money,” I said. “I charged him low retail, and I pay you wholesale.”

“Asshole,” he hissed.

I patted my hand against my wallet. “Asshole that’s saving money.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Pee bee said. “Being in this big son-of-a-bitch makes me nervous.”

We followed Pee Bee outside. I locked the front door and set the alarm. Standing on the massive porch overlooking the courtyard, the three of us stared in awe at the incredibly beautiful landscape of the yard and courtyard.

“Who the fuck owns this mansion, anyway?”

“Young kid,” I said. “He’s like 24 or 25 or something.”

Pee Bee went bug-eyed. “No shit? Place has got to be worth what? Twenty million?”

“Thirty-five,” I said. “He said he inherited it.”

“What’s he do for a living?”

“Invests money. That’s it,” I said. “This kid had no family, bumped into the previous owner by chance, and they ended up hitting it off. Then, the guy left it to him in his will. Kid said the owner was one cool dude, though.”

“Gave him this place? No shit?”

“My hand to God. Cars, furniture, bank account, everything. Even his security guard. Kid said the guy just left everything to him.”

“Damn.” He shook his head. “Hey, speaking of kids, how’s that girl from the dope house? Your old neighbor’s daughter?”

“She’s good. I was gonna ask you about her anyway. You got time when we get back to the clubhouse to talk for a bit?”

“Sure.”

“What? We’re not brothers now?” Smokey asked, stepping off the porch as he spoke. He turned toward us. “Can’t say anything around me?”

“I’m not looking to have you try and shove your opinion down my throat, Smoke. Your about as open-minded as communist dictator.”

“What the fuck’s that mean?” he asked.

“Means you and that fucker in North Korea have a lot in common.”

“Fuck you,” he hissed.

“It’s true. It’s your way, or no way at all,” I said. “You aren’t open to change.”

“What the fuck you lookin’ to change?”

“I don’t want to change anything. I was just looking to talk.”

“Talk, then,” he said.

I shook my head. “Let’s get.”

“Talk, motherfucker. We’re brothers. Fuckers Forever.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Forever Fuckers,” I said, finishing our motto.

“So, talk,” he said.

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Alright. But this shit stays here.”