Not like me. I was a fucking firecracker. Hot-tempered and hot-blooded. Impulsive. Mac and the guys had to hold me back from getting my fists bloody at least once a week.
Usually, the other guy came out looking like hamburger meat.
Mac pulled up in an SUV and I got in. It must be one of Donnie’s cars. They had a couple now that they had a second kid coming. Mac, Drake and I were the only ones not fucking settled down at this point. I probably never would shack up. I didn’t see the point.
As much as I liked my brothers’ rug rats and wives, I couldn’t imagine a woman who could tempt me to settle down. And kids? I wrapped my cock tight every fucking time I took a dip in some club girl. I might be exceptionally good looking, but I didn’t feel a need to pass on my fucked up DNA.
My family was nuts. Certifiable. Mom was a sweet lady, but she had two brothers. Both of them were in jail. My late father’s side of the family wasn’t much better.
So yeah, Mac was my only wingman these days. I could tell Mac was getting tired of my shit. But he showed up for me every single time.
I lit up when I saw that he had brought me gifts.
Mac handed me a bottle of vodka and a cold beer without saying a word. I took a swig and leaned back in the seat while he drove me to the outskirts of town.
“Should I wait?”
“Nah.” I took another swig of vodka and climbed out of the car. “I’m good.”
“Seriously, Lucky. I don’t want to be out here at dawn scraping your ass off the pavement.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise.”
I held my hand up to salute him. I’d get a ride or walk it off. It was only about an hour back to town and south to the clubhouse, if you didn’t get lost. But Mac was right to worry. It was true, the roads back here were dangerous, and not just because people drove fast in the middle of nowhere. It was the degenerates around here who were the real threat. Especially if anyone figured out how much cash I had on me. I finished the beer and belched as loud as possible, knowing it would annoy Mac.
“Don’t walk it again.”
“But it’s so good for my girlish figure.”
I posed for him but Mac wasn’t amused.
“Who are you going to get a ride from?”
“Maybe I’ll call Drake.”
Drake was the best of the latest crop of recruits. I’d done my best to haze him with the rest but he didn’t even fucking blink. I liked that about the fucker.
Plus, he worked construction so he was always up early and therefore always available to pick my sorry ass up on the flip side. Mac shook his head.
“You are a jackass, you know that?”
“Affirmative!”
He started the car and pulled out. I turned and headed for the secret entrance to the Garage. I knew I had about a fifty-fifty chance of getting my ass handed to me again. The mob had eyes on me. And like I said, I was really fucking good at poker. I played online too, but I preferred to play in the flesh.
I was a skilled player but that wasn’t what gave me an edge. About fifty percent of my luck was not giving a shit. The other half was balls. Big, hairy ones.
I adjusted myself and took the stairs up to the loading dock that served as an entrance.
Three knocks and a grate opened in the door. A beefy, altogether too familiar face peered back at me.
“Oh, it’s you.”
“Joey?” I hazarded a guess, figuring I had a fifty-fifty chance. He looked just like the other Joey. Maybe a little older, with gray hair at his temples.
“Joey’s my cousin, you fuck. I’m Paulie.”
I was tempted to make a smart remark. But I heard the welcoming sound of the lock being thrown and the creak of the heavy metal door being opened up. I’d heard that when someone really pissed them off, they put your hand in that door and slammed it shut. More than once sometimes. Even I was not up for that kind of pain. Not voluntarily anyway.
“What you got there?”
I held up the vodka and he stared, deciding if he would let me keep it. In the end he just shrugged and waved me in. I walked down a short hallway with metal walls and into the Garage.
It was huge. Not airplane hangar huge, but close. Big ass trucks level huge. And in the center of the room there were a bunch of tables. Not shitty ones either, even though this place was kind of a dive. These were old-school gambling tables, looking like they came straight out of 1950s Vegas. In fact, that’s probably where they were from.