Page 8 of Southpaw Slots

Seeing him like this makes my own eyes leak more onto my cheeks.

Before he leaves me and reaches the door, I make him pause and ask, “Will you come to the wedding?”

His head drops back until he stares at the ceiling for a moment. Then he flings the door open and storms out with a slam.

I guess that’s a no.

For now.

THREE

WYATT

It’s never going to get done if he keeps doing it that way. Clenching my jaw, I stand with my hands on my hips, just observing. Because if I jump in there, it’ll just cause a fight. Then he won’t do any work at all.

“You’re not helping,” Rogue says, not even turning to look at me.

I wipe the sweat from the back of my neck with my red bandana, shrugging. “I’m supervising.”

With a sigh, he puts the plastered trowel down and speaks to the busted wall. “No, you’re judging. Go grab lunch or some shit, man, and get the fuck out from behind my back.”

Nodding slightly, I turn to head back into the garage. “Fine. You want Brogie’s again?”

“Ham and salami, but don’t put any pickles on it. I know you do that to annoy me, Steele.” He’s right, but now I feel justified that it’s an extra pickle day.

The heat waves of summer roll in along with a slight kick of dust as some of the boys return from their drops. Purring engines cut into the air of silence that lives in this part of town. Shuffling over to my bike, I wait for the report from Garg, his lumbering hairy body pouring out of his tiny leather vest. A warm sigh leaves my chest, mixing with the hot air. I wish he’d wear a shirt. Oldest of our group, he’s been around since before the Day of the Raging Bull. Worked at the shop in his twenties, and he loves to tell everyone how much more he knows.

“No problems, Steele,” his cigarette-burned voice rasps out at me. “Sold most of the batch to South Side. West actually wanted some rifles. Some homeless dudes there had money for full autos, can you believe that?” Stuffing the cash in my palm, he reaches in his back pocket for the scribbled note containing the inventory sales.

“Yeah, poor on West Side is a lot different from here.” Scanning the horizon, the remnants of stucco huts and makeshift apartments seem to be in a bit better shape now that Freidenberg’s getting his money. But not like the technology district. Definitely not like the North. I don’t think they have such a thing as destitution there.

“You gonna talk about that at the meeting tonight?” He crosses his giant tattooed arms and stares me down like he’s the one who came up with the idea. I’ll let him think so.

“Seems like a good topic to discuss, yep.” Stuffing the money in the deposit bag, I tuck the note in my pocket, then saddle up. “Heading to Brogie’s. Want anything?”

“Nah, Hella made me a couple sandwiches to bring today.”

“She’s a good woman.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your princess—oh, sorry,Donovan’sprincess—could make you a few if she could figure out where the kitchen was.” He ends with a deep chuckle, his exposed belly jiggling with every huff.

Arianna… I’ll deal with her and my crew’s incessant ribbing about it later.

The top of my head points to Rogue still squatting at the same fucking cinder block he was on when I walked over here. “Hey, make sure he stays on task andfinishesit. We need this building back in shape.”

“Steele!” Murph’s red hair flames like the ones that took down the building a few months ago. Freckles dancing in the bright sunlight, he marches on a mission straight for me, nearly empty saddlebags slung over his shoulders. “We had a few leftovers for handguns.”

“Why?”

His skinny shoulder shrugs. “Hell, if I know. Maybe the market’s saturated. Got ten left. Mainly Rugers. Bullets all sold out, though.”

“I’ll take them.” Heaving the leather strap over my shoulder, I make room on my bike for the guns.

“So…big question we all wanna know is, when we gonna fuck up South Side, man? You been putting this off for a few days, and we’re all ready. We need to fucking destroy that pretty boy’s casino. We got the flamethrowers to do it, too.”

Behind him, Jaws paces and spits out tobacco on the ground. I guess they’ve been dying to speak to me about this. “We’ve beenwaiting, Steele. If you don’t give the say, we’ll do it without you.” Jaws’s nasally pitched voice cuts through my ears.

A little laugh escapes my lips. “No. You won’t. I tell you when and where and how. And we aren’t doing anything. Not yet anyway. Patience was never your pride, Murph”—with a head nod toward the wild animal making trails in the pavement behind him—“Jaws. We need to be smart about this. Calculated, and play the long game here.Andfucking rebuild. And now, I gotta pick up lunch and sell the rest of these handguns you fucks couldn’t. Get back to work. I’ll be back in an hour.”

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