Page 11 of Doozer

“Why the fuck is Dad all chummy with Judge Snotty?”

She shrugged. “I think they’re working on something together. He’s been around the office a bunch lately.”

“Carmen, Dad hates Judge Snotty and everything he represents.”

Judge Snodgrass was notorious for his shady sentences and back-door dealings with all manner of illicit individuals. My father was honest to a fault, at least as honest as a lawyer can be, and had made more than one, or twelve, motions to recuse the judge when he was presiding over any of Dad’s cases.

“I think with Dad retiring, they buried the hatchet.”

I frowned. “Dad doesn’t bury hatchets, Carmen, unless he’s aiming one at me.”

She sighed. “He’s not that bad.”

“No, you’re just his little girl, so you’re blind to what an asshole he can be.”

“Or, you’re being too alpha male to set your ego aside and entertain the possibility that Pop’s changed.”

I grunted. I loved my sister to Mars and back, but she’d been sheltered to the point of ignorance and that bugged the shit out of me.

“I should head out,” I said.

“That’s it?”

“Sorry, sis, I have a club Christmas party to get to.”

“Tonight?” she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why is that strange? We’re at a party right now.”

“I know, but this is…”

“This is what?” I challenged. “A normal, corporate sanctioned, socially acceptable, holiday party and MCs are only allowed to hang out with strippers and sacrifice goats.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“I expected to get shit from Pop and Mama about leaving tonight, but not from you.”

“Hold on, Marco. Just because you didn’t get to have a fight with Pop tonight doesn’t mean you get to start one with me.”

“I’m sorry, Carm. You’re right.”

“Do you have to go? I miss you. Will we see you at mass this year?”

“First Ma, now you?” I laughed. “I promise I’ll call on Christmas, but I really do need to hit the road.”

Tonight, the Burning Saints were to be the guests of the Dogs of Fire. A local MC we’d recently become friendly with. Minus had made it clear to all of us that attendance was mandatory. No excuses. And, unlike my father, I cared about disappointing or disobeying my club president.

* * *

I was deep into my second glass of Jägenogg, the Burning Saints’ traditional holiday concoction, and I’d only been at the Dogs’ party for an hour. The celebration was well under way and a group of us were playing nine-ball in the pool room. I was all smiles on the outside but the conversation with my father had my head all twisted up. He was up to something. I could feel it in my bones.

The second I’d walked into the club, I’d tracked down our resident finder of all things dark and dirty, pulling him aside.

“What’s up, little man?” Kitty asked.

Kitty was a giant and despite the fact I was over six feet tall, he’d always called me ‘little man.’

“Need you to do some diggin’ for me on someone.”

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