Page 118 of At The End Of The Day

My heart skipped a beat, and a silly grin curled my mouth. Sitting up with a groan, I tossed the pencil to cross my arms, a leg bouncing under the table. Casting Wads a glance, I replied, “She’s actually on her way. They’re driving down here instead of taking the jet because, apparently, the kids don’t wanna leave behind the chickens.”

“No, shit. They got chickens up there?”

“And goats and horses and cows,” Dash grumbled, licking his finger to count through the bills. “Bitch is gonna cover my yard in chicken shit.”

“Eh, at least she’s coming back. How long they gonna be here?”

“I dunno. Dash has been house hunting online, trying to find a place that might convince them to stay.”

He grinned and shook his head. “For someone you call bitch all the time, you sure do seem to like him.”

He rolled a shoulder and sat up, tapping the stack to make it as neat as possible. Grabbing the cigarette box, he withdrew two, lit them, and handed me one without thinking about them watching. It was something we’d both always done for one another, never thinking about it before, why would it be an issue now?

“He ain’t so bad.”

Frowning, he slouched in the chair, hooking the crook of his elbow over the spindle on the back. “And he’s okay with what we did in Kentucky?”

“I mean, no, not really. Would you?”

Wads snorted and lifted his brows. “I’d gut a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, Ty ain’t like that,” I offered, marking off the things on the list. Satisfied with the night’s profits, I began ripping it into tiny pieces, tossing them to the large ashtray.

“Naw, he ain’t got a mean bone in his body.”

“If he did, you broke it that night,” Wads chortled.

My lips pulled between my teeth and I tensed, casting a sideways glance his way. As expected, he didn’t find the joke nearly as funny. Scowling, he lunged to his feet, reaching over the table to point. “Hey, you wanna start something, man? That shit ain’t funny.”

Wads blanched, the smile vanishing. “Holy shit, Dash, I was fucking around.”

“Well don’t, how ‘bout it, huh? We were three grown ass men, and we attacked a fucking kid. We stole his college education and career and crippled him forever. What’s so fucking funny about that?”

His sight darting back and forth between us, he gulped and shook his head. “I-I…N-Nothing, dude, I’m sorry.”

Not caring everyone was watching, I slid my palm against his and gave a gentle squeeze, tugging him back to his seat. “Calm down, babe. You know he didn’t mean nothing. He wasn’t on that mountain, he didn’t get to know Ty like we did.”

“He was a kid, Wads,” he spat but plopped to the chair. “A fucking kid. He didn’t stand a chance against us.”

Einstein coughed and inched closer to the table. “Hey, man, I don’t mean to start nothing, and please don’t get offended, but…you …you ain’t going soft on us, are you?”

Snarling, he seethed, “Ask Janelle that. Or, ask Charlie, since he’s still alive.”

They all exchanged glances at the mention of the man he shot last Friday night. With that came the memory of Sam. I hadn’t even thought to kill him, I just panicked, thinking he was about to expose The Boss’ true identity.

“Hey, so I been meaning to ask y’all. And be truthful, cuz I ain’t gonna shoot no one.”

They bristled and avoided their stares.

“Any of y’all recognize The Boss the other night?”

“No,” they grumbled.

“Look me in the eye and say it.”

I stared at each and every one as they repeated, “no,” and saw no deception.

“Man, I think Sam was just bullshitting, to be honest with you,” Bishop said, collecting bags of heroin to put in a larger one. “He’s always talking shit out his ass, trying to make himself more important than he is.” He stilled, realizing his words. “Was,” he added with a low bob of his head.