Craving Trix (The Aces' Sons 1)

“Fuck,” Will hissed, taking another shot of moonshine.

“Gather round, children,” Poet yelled, laughing. “Shit, me beards in me fuckin’ booze.”

The table erupted in laughter as Poet tried to wring the moonshine out of his beard and back into the shot glass in front of him.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, patting his beard against his chest. “Now fer the story of Will’s name.”

“There was once a president of these United States—”

“Jesus,” Dragon bitched, running his hand over his face. “Seriously, man?”

“Shut yer gob,” Poet shot back. “Now where was I?”

“The president,” I reminded him, my lips twitching.

“Right! In 1912, President Theodore Roosevelt was givin’ a speech in Milwaukee, Wisconsin—”

“This story have a point?” Will grumbled.

“—and a saloonkeeper shot him in the chest,” Poet continued. “Good old Roosevelt kept right on with his speech. Told the crowd, ‘Takes more than one bullet to kill a bull moose.’” Poet nodded, then pointed again at Will. “Moose.”

We all sat in dumbfounded silence for a moment.

“I got shot twice,” Will finally said, his voice devoid of emotion.

I laughed so hard I thought I was going to hack up that fucking moonshine.