“How did you know about that picture?”
“Vivi left it at my house. I went snooping.”
“Oh.” I blush. “So you had someone drop Vivi’s backpack off at my house?”
“What?” He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t do that. I was hoping to keep that sketchbook my little secret. I love looking at your drawings.”
“Don’t judge my talent.”
“I think you made me look hot.”
I giggle. “No one has to make you look hot, Vic. But seriously, if you didn’t drop her backpack off, then who did?”
He stares at me for a moment, his smile falling in increments. Then, in a serious tone, he says, “I don’t know. But she’s not going to win.”
“Well.” I huff out some air. “Five minutes ago, I’d have disagreed. But after that whole ‘cease fire’ thing”—we both erupt in laughter—“I can now picture her losing.”
“She’s getting her ass handed to her in chambers too.”
“But why did she freak out like that?”
“I dunno,” he says.
Then the doors bang open again. But this time it’s not a general with a crew of killers. It’s a… biker. He walks right up to us. He even pushes through that little swinging gate thing and sits right down in the third seat where Vic originally was.
I just look at him. But Vic says, “Jeeves. Dude. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve been given the go-ahead to let you know that your shit has been taken care of. Courtesy of the Moran clan.” He clicks his tongue against his cheek. “Because we stick together.”
“Sounds like a tagline,” Vic says.
“Yep.”
Veronica and Spencer lean over the railing separating us from the gallery. “What the heck is going on?” Ronnie asks.
“I was just about to ask the same question,” Vic says. He glances over at this biker guy called Jeeves. And then it clicks into place.
I point at him. “Jackalope guy.”
He pretends to take off a hat and bow. “At your service.”
“All right, spill, Jeeves. What did you guys do?”
He shrugs. “We’re recalling the mayor.”
“What?” I chuckle.
“That’s right. Started the paperwork this morning. There are a few more administrative steps before you actually get to the collecting signatures part, but we skipped ahead. Figured, what the hell, right? Might as well let that threat sink in. So we rallied the town.”
“What town?” Vic asks.
“This town, you moron.”
“I hope you didn’t tell anyone this is for me. This town fucking hates my guts.”
“Aw. You’re so sensitive, Vicious. Look here.” And then he pulls out his phone, taps on it, and a video starts playing of a huge crowd in downtown Fort Collins. “Who’s that?” Jeeves points to a man on the screen.
Vic squints. Then takes the phone and puts it right up to his face. “Is that Pops? And my brothers? What are they doing?”
“Free tattoos if you collect fifty signatures before five o’clock today.”
“Is that even legal?” I ask.
Jeeves looks me straight in the eyes. “No one cares if it’s legal. We’re just here to make a point. If the mayor’s witch of a wife wants to threaten private citizens for her own personal vendetta, then private citizens will threaten her for their own personal vendettas back. And now they know their place.”
“How many signatures did you get?” Vic asks.
Jeeves grins big. “Over twenty thousand so far today. We only needed twelve thousand. The entire city council is shitting their pants right now. And that general?” Jeeves nods his head. “Nice touch, Vic. Nice touch.”
“All rise!” the bailiff calls.
“That’s my cue,” Jeeves says. Then he tips his imaginary hat to me again and walks back out of the courtroom just as the judge, the general, Alec, and Lucille exit chambers.
The judge doesn’t even sit down. He picks up his gavel and yells, “Case dismissed,” and then walks back into his chambers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – VIC
The courtroom erupts into chaos as the general walks over to our table with Alec Steele. Alec begins shoving his legal papers into a folder, then looks at the general, nods his head, and hands the file over.
The general takes the file with a scowl. Then he looks straight at me. “You are not a terrorist, Vicious Vaughn. Do you know how I know you’re not a terrorist?”
“Um…”
“That was a rhetorical question. I know this because you work for me and I do not hire terrorists. Your charges have been dismissed. We will be chatting soon. But before I leave here, I want you to know that this right here?” He waves a finger around. “This is what we call a shitshow. And I do not allow shitshows to occur on my time. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” I say. “I’m sorry—”
“Nobody gives a flying fuck about your apologizes, Vicious. If you want to continue, I expect a tight ship. Clear?”
For a moment it’s not really clear. “You mean… I’m not fired?”
“Fired? Son, how many non-disclosure agreements did you sign?”