"Oh, that. I imagine you thought you could pull a prank on Teddy," I told him, feeling my lips twitch.
"How'd you know that?"
"I once Saran wrapped his car. He waited until I was asleep, and shaved off my eyebrows."
"Seriously?"
"It was not a good look. Thank God for makeup. But, yeah, don't fuck with Teddy. He has no chill. He takes all the pranks to the next level. I hope you got him good before he got to you."
"I wish," West said, shaking his head. "All I managed was an airhorn behind his apartment door."
"Lame."
"Yeah. What can I say? I was testing the waters. I didn't know how this crew would react."
"How did your old crew react?"
"I only ever tried it with the girls."
"Girl bikers?" I asked, excited about the prospect. I would rock the shit out of some leather pants.
"No. The old ladies."
"They're actually okay with you referring to them as that?"
"Comes with the territory. And also, no one actually says it to their faces."
"That makes more sense. Do any of them ever get you back?"
"A couple of them, yeah."
"So, what did Teddy do? Nair in your soap? Hot wax? Good, old-fashioned buzzer when you were passed out?"
"The last one. Took out a giant chunk right down to the skin. There was nothing to do but shave it all off."
"It works too. I'm always a sucker for a good beard, but this isn't bad either."
"Makes me look like I'm eighteen years old."
"Maybe a little," I agreed. "But it will grow back. And now you've had a bonding experience with Teddy. He can be the hardest of the group to get to know. He's an enigma. Tons of money, but he chooses to slum it with the rest of us."
"I get Teddy. Che and McCoy are more of the enigmas for me."
"McCoy tends to expect the worst out of people. Once you're around long enough to prove you're not a fuckhead, he will open up to you more. I mean, that is the theory. He still tends to think the worst of me."
"Those men love you, sweetheart," he countered. "They all talk about you like their little sister. Even McCoy. He has that begrudging big brother attitude toward you."
That was probably true. Especially because they'd all known me for so long.
"And Che, well, Che is just a more serious dude. He is more introspective. You'd get more out of him if you were taking a drive somewhere. Instead of hitching a ride with Remy when you go someplace, go with Che. I know you're trying to get information for your boss, but if you're looking for input—they're good men. They'd honor your organization. And I am not someone who blows smoke. If I thought they were assholes, I'd tell you that."
"I believe you would," he agreed. "How come you didn't end up in the family business?"
"I sometimes act as a distraction. I'm good at that," I added, lips twitching.
"I'll bet you are."
"But, I don't know. I know I come off as a bit of a, well, a crazy person at times, but I like stability when it comes to money. We were piss poor a lot of the time growing up. Empty fridge, lights cut off, that wobbly feeling in your belly when the phone rang, knowing it was a bill collector. My father managed to hold onto The Yard, but just barely. And, a lot of the time, only because our uncle gave him money to keep things going. And the guys do alright. No one is starving or anything. Their bills are paid. But I don't think I could have lived with the idea that I only got paid if I found the right cars to jack that month, you know? I needed to know that if I worked a set number of hours, I got a set amount of money. It's not a sexy thought—a nine-to-five—but it is something I need in my life."
"You work with old people."
"I'm a CNA. But I do some home health work on the side too when there is a big demand for it. What?" I asked, watching as he closed his eyes, a goofy smirk on his lips.
"Just trying to imagine you in scrubs, all professional and shit."
"I doubt my superiors would call me professional. But my patients like me enough to stage a coup if I were fired. Albeit a very lame coup since most of them aren't all that mobile on their own. But they would do their damndest to make everyone else's lives harder."
"It's good to be appreciated like that."
"It definitely makes the shit pay more tolerable," I agreed.
"What got you into that job?"
"We had this tenant when I was a kid—my dad used to rent out the other units to make ends meet—and he was ancient and too stubborn to go somewhere that people could help him. So I would go up to check on him occasionally. Help do his dishes, run his errands when he couldn't, help him down the stairs to make it to doctor appointments when the old people bus would come by. His son was thankful enough to have someone nearby to help out that he started to pay me. I was only like thirteen at the time. I wasn't qualified to do anything for him. But he was willing to pay me, and I was dying for some pocket change. Besides, I really liked it."