Page 65 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

I snort. “I don’t know what about my fucking response would make you think that.” Fetching my cigarette pack from within the confines of my black suit jacket, I pull one out with my teeth. I cock my head to the side, bringing the flame to my lips before flipping my zippo lighter closed.

The engraving on the smooth silver surface catches my eye, and I allow myself a moment to run my thumb over top of it. It’s brief, the sentiment disappearing just as quickly as it arose before I tuck it back away.

“Come on, Mav,” Nicky scoffs in annoyance. “Fucking work with me here. There’s no reason to be a prick.”

I take a deep pull of the tobacco before pointing the stick in between my fingers at him. “I can be whatever the fuck I wanna be, Nick. I’m not the one who needs to cut through rival territory to move their product. You need to move shit through Hydetown? You pay the fucking toll.”

“Thirty percent isn’t a toll, Bishop. That’s a whole fucking cut!”

“Semantics.” I shrug, rising from the table.

Parley looks different these days. Long gone are the times where Nicky and I would have stand-offs in Corlies Park. We’d attract too much heat now. In the four years since our last alliance, Nicky and I have grown substantially. We divided the remaining territories. He kept Dutchess and Hope Falls, then expanded into Connecticut and Jersey. I absorbed Middleburgh, while branching out into portions of NYC. We split Killington right down the middle.

That’s where we meet now. In the office building we had erected right on the dividing line in Killington. It’s nothing elaborate. A conference room, some offices, a bathroom, and a large concrete encased basement… with drains—just in case.

It also happens to be where T.J. Vick’s old warehouse used to stand. The one Tommy took Jonsie to the night my whole life imploded.

“Sit down, Bishop,” Nicky seethes. “We’re not done.”

“Oh, we are. Unless you’re ready to discuss acceptable rates.” Finn and T have followed my lead, standing to flank my sides.

Nicky pops up, slamming his palm on the smooth wooden table in front of him. Rico and JP rise to mirror his stance, just as my guys have with me. I have to hand it to them—all of them on both sides—loyal to the fucking core.

Various others line the walls behind both Nicky and me. We roll a little deeper these days, given our status. Most of the men in my detail have been with me a while now, but occasionally we break in some newbies. You have to be a Rebel for at least six months to be eligible for the detail, but even still, where I was once emotionally invested in each of my soldiers, I’ve adopted a more distant formal approach these days. It’s a shift in leadership tactics that Finn disagrees with, but I’m the boss so he can shut the fuck up.

“Watch your fucking tone with me, Nicky. No need to act like a spoiled brat.” I smirk, knowing I have firmly embedded myself under his skin.

“No need to act like a smug bastard,” he bites back.

“Sounds like someone’s still salty that Boss Man fucked his baby sister.”

I freeze at the sound of the voice originating from behind me. My eyes remained trained on Nicky, who’s now glaring over my shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” Finn sighs on a whisper, and in my peripheral, I can see him pinching the bridge of his nose.

My hand snakes inside my jacket, withdrawing my weapon as I spin in one fluid motion. T instinctively shifts out of my way as I find the fucker amongst my crew who cracked the joke.

A smile still plays on his lips as he looks to others for acknowledgment, someone to join in his amusement at the expense of Nicky and her memory. Finding none—because anyone who actually knows me knows that’s a no-fucking-fly zone—the punk’s head snaps forward as he now notices my attention on him. His smile slowly fades, and without a shred of remorse, I raise my piece level with his face and pull the trigger.

His brains splatter on the wall behind him as his lifeless body drops to the floor.

The room goes silent, though my monster roars beneath the surface as my body vibrates with anger. Finally, I speak, my voice low at first but rising with every other word. “If anyone else has her name swimming around in their mouth, I strongly suggest you swallow it the FUCK DOWN RIGHT NOW! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?! ACKNOWLEDGE, SOLDIERS!”

“HEARD!” my men shout in unison.

“Clean this shit up,” I gesture with my gun to the body at my feet before turning to T. “You’re in charge. Nick—” my attention shifts to him “—walk with me.”

Nicky and I exit the building, leaving my crew to deal with clean-up. I reach for another cigarette. Nicky steps in, snatching one from my pack as well.

“These things are gonna fucking kill you,” he scolds me as the hypocrite places it between his lips.

I scoff, lighting the end of mine before extending the flame of the zippo to him. He leans forward, taking a quick pull before backing away once it’s lit.

“You wanna be the pot or the kettle in this situation?” I arch my brow.

He exhales a cloud of smoke. “Makes no difference to me. They’re both dirty as shit.”

Back in the day, you couldn’t pay Nicky to put this shit anywhere near his body. Man was the definition of top athletic conditioning, but a lot’s changed since then.

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