Page 90 of His Road Dog

Chapter 34

Priest

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CURLEY WALKED UP THEdriveway, flanked by Roddy, Rick, and Paco. Priest tossed his cigarette in the old coffee can filled with sand by the front door and stepped inside the house, leaving the door open for the others.

"Thanks for coming over." He led them to the living room.

"Why are we meeting here?" Curley stood by the couch. "I thought you were coming to the clubhouse today."

"I am." He slid open the sliding door to the deck. "I want to run something by you before I sit down with the others at the club."

They followed him outside. He'd put time and thought into what he brought them over to discuss. It wasn't an easy decision to make, considering Nicole. He wasn't sure she was ready for her two worlds to collide yet.

But after last night, he realized he needed to act now before the opportunity disappeared.

"What's up?" asked Paco.

Priest removed the last joint Nicole's dad had given him, along with a lighter, and passed it to Curley. "Light that fucker up and pass it around."

Roddy chuckled. "A morning toke to get us started? Whatever the hell you want from us, it's gotta be good."

Priest let the joke roll off his shoulders. He hoped that they'd all find out what he had and be excited about the discovery.

Curley took the first hit, holding his breath, and passed it to Rick. Then, Roddy and Paco took a toke before holding it out to Priest. He shook his head and motioned with his chin for them to keep passing the joint amongst themselves. There were probably a good two drags for each of them. Enough to see what he discovered.

The outside air filled with aroma of the pot. Only Paco coughed as he searched in his pocket and pulled out a roach clip, passing it to Curley.

Paco stepped back and leaned against the railing of the deck. "Damn."

Priest watched the others. He could see the lowered eyelids, dropped jaws, the calmness spreading like crabs on a whore throughout the group.

"This isn't Tarkio's weed," said Roddy.

"No shit," said Curley in a deep voice, not wanting to exhale. "This is golden."

"You're right. I suspect it's a strain of Acapulco Gold." Priest leaned against the railing. "Except better than it was in the seventies."

"There's nothing like this in Montana. Our shit doesn't even come close." Curley tapped the end of the joint, dropped the small bit in his palm, and handed the roach clip back to Paco. "Where did you get it?"

"Nicole's dad gifted me two rolls when I picked her up in Northern California." He put his hand in his pocket and fingered the silver dollar.

In his worry about finding Nicole and getting her back home with him, he hadn't put much thought into the reasons for the gift—until he smoked one.

Now he couldn't get the visit off his mind.

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