“Yeah, I do. Got a cabin in Townsend though.”
“Hmm.” Crank pulled a dented pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He stuck one between his lips then said around it, “You out this way often?”
Why the fuck did he care? Screw hadn’t quite thought Crank would have given two shits about some random guy one of his prospects invited to their clubhouse. He risked a quick peek at Gumby, whose expression was unreadable. But the guy was smart; he had to be picking up on the odd vibe as well.
“Uh, yeah. Try to come out here every weekend when I’m free. Hate the fucking city, but you know, need my paycheck.”
“What do you do?”
“I manage a furniture warehouse.” He’d totally spit-balled the idea when Squirt had asked him earlier in the week.
“You ship out a lot?”
Oh, fuck. How to play this? If he kept his head out of his ass and dealt his cards right, this could be the in the Handlers needed. The CDMC shipped weapons. Did they want his trucks? He bit the inside of his cheek to keep a handle on his excitement. Then, with a nod, he said, “We do. All up and down the east coast.”
“Huh.” Crank shared a look with Squirt, then he was slapping Screw on the back. “You boys enjoy yourselves, huh? Drink, dance, fuck. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Yeah, man. Thanks.”
“All right,” Squirt said. “What’re you boys drinkin’?”
An hour and a half later, Screw stood with his back against the bar as he watched Gumby play pool with three club whores while also pretending to give a shit about whatever the fuck Squirt was rambling on about. The kid could talk, that was for fucking sure.
He’d learned a lot about Squirt, and the Disciples in that time, none of it useful for Copper and all of it nauseating.
Squirt was a racist, as were most of the other Disciples he’d met.
Squirt loved his coke.
Squirt was a raging homophobe. The amount of time he’d heard the words fag and queer thrown around in the most derogatory of ways had his ears ringing. And his senses on high alert. He and Gumby had been beyond careful to keep their attraction under wraps. In fact, they hadn’t even spoken much. Gumby had been commandeered by the group of skanky bitches almost right away.
Watching them drape themselves all over Gumby had Screw’s hackles rising. Sure, the man wasn’t doing a damn thing to encourage them and wasn’t reciprocating the attention or affection, but the girls weren’t deterred. They giggled and thrust their overfilled tits his way every five seconds.
Screw ground his teeth as he chewed the fuck out of a cocktail straw and tried to burn the girls down with his eyes. Fuck, you’d think he was some jealous boyfriend or something.
“Your boy seems to be getting along real good,” Squirt said with a laugh as one of the dumb bitches stroked the pool cue as though she were stroking a big dick.
Screw just grunted.
As though he heard the sound from twenty feet away over the pounding of the rock music, Gumby looked up. He mouthed something that looked like “Gotta take a leak.”
Screw nodded once, then watched as Gumby headed toward what he assumed was the bathroom. One of the girls tried to follow, undoubtedly looking for a quick over the sink fuck, but whatever he said to her had her pouting and remaining at the pool table.
“So, hey, I wanted to give you a heads up about something, but you gotta keep your trap shut, hear me?” Squirt leaned in close as he spoke.
The hairs on the back of Screw’s neck rose to attention. “Yeah, I hear ya.”
Squirt glanced around then turned to face Screw. “Crank is gonna ask to chat with you later. He’s got a proposition for you.”
Here we go. A tingle of anticipation ran through him.
“A proposition?” Screw asked, going for chill and unconcerned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we’re looking for some help shipping some items up and down the east coast.”
Ding, ding, ding. The fucking motherload. He wanted to jump up and down with fucking glee. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? What kind of items?”
Guns, obviously.
With a shake of his head, Squirt said. “Can’t tell you that yet, man. Club business. They’ll have my ass for saying this much, but I wanted to let you know what a good fucking deal it is. You do not want to turn it down. The club will take good care of you if you know what I mean.” He rubbed his thumb against his next two fingers in the universal sign for cash.
Screw scratched a hand through his beard. Itchy fucking thing. “Wow, I just thought I was coming here to get wasted, maybe find some easy pussy. Talk bikes a bit.”