Page 118 of Thug

Jack looked at Price like he was crazy. “You’re telling me a grown man would pay fifty grand for a couple of housecats?”

“He sure would.”

“This is the dipshit that kidnapped her, right?”

Price nodded. “Same guy.”

“I’m afraid that man’s elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top. No man in his right mind would value housecats at twenty-five grand a pop.”

“They’re pretty good cats,” I said. “I really like them.”

He gave me a look. “Would you give fifty grand for ‘em?”

“If I had it? Sure.”

He pushed the brim of his hat up. “Why?”

I really didn’t want to say. “I don’t know.”

He chuckled. “Now’s not the time to be embarrassed. You’ve already shown your ass. What makes those two housecats worth as much as a new pickup truck?”

I’d had a cat before, but Brisco’s cats were different. Maybe their breed was unique, or maybe they just came around at the right time in my life. I didn’t know. It really didn’t matter. What mattered was the satisfaction I received from being in the home with Price and the cats at the same time.

“I’m not willing to have a kid if I’m not able to be the best mother in the world for that child,” I explained. “At some point, I’ll be that person. Right now, I know I’m not there yet. The cats make me feel like Price and I have a family. They’re waiting for us when we walk in, they snuggle with us when we go to bed, and they’ll play with us any time of night and day, until they’re exhausted. I just…” I paused, embarrassed by what I’d revealed. It sounded juvenile. I looked at Price. Wearing a grin, it seemed he agreed with what I’d said. I cleared my throat. “They give me a sense of family, and that’s something I never really had.”

Jack nodded as if he understood, fully. “Kind of like having you two here, tonight?” He looked at each of us and smiled. “Reminds me of when Earl and Kimberly were around. Hell, I’d give fifty grand to have a standing Sunday dinner date with the two of you.” He reached for his wine. “Guess I know exactly what you’re talking about. Family’s a powerful thing.”

“I can’t speak for Price,” I said. “But I’m free on Sunday nights. It’s hard to say no to food like this. You’re a good cook.”

He pushed the bill of his hat up. “Good enough you’ll make that bet?”

I shook his hand. “It’s a bet.”

He tugged against the brim of his hat and smiled. “Let me know next Sunday night how things worked out, will ya?”

30

Price

Chin and I rolled up to the curb in front of the single-story stucco ranch home. A new Ford truck was Parked beneath the lean-to. Beside it, a decent-looking black Sportster was parked, chained to one of the structure’s uprights.

I glanced at the street number painted on the face of the curb. I looked at Chin. “Six-oh-five is right, isn’t it?”

He shut off his bagger and gave a nod. “Yep.”

“So, we’re at the right place?”

“Yep.”

“This prick can’t pay his rent, but he can afford a Sporty and a new truck?”

“Kind of why I asked you to come along. Fucker’s been late three times this year, and we’re only eight months into the year. When he said he wanted three more weeks, I knew I’d need someone to come along. I ain’t having my probation revoked over this shit.”

“Whatever happens, just follow my lead,” I said. “I’ll take care of this prick.”

“Appreciate it,” Chin said.

Since Brisco had slipped into his state of depression, I’d been assisting Chin with debt collections. Typically, we didn’t have any issues with payments. One tenant, however, had been late repeatedly. A little friendly persuasion would go a long way in assuring the ‘Eights could meet their future financial obligations without dipping into the company’s interest-bearing accounts.