Page 27 of Dizzy

“Okay. You call the shots.” Heavy’s lip twitches.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you this decisive about anything besides shovelheads.”

“Who gives a shit about reliability if it don’t sound good?” People got fucked up priorities these days. If you’re hung up on reliability, buy a fuckin’ station wagon. But yeah. I don’t usually show an interest in much besides mechanics.

Heavy chuckles. “Agreed. Let’s go back in. I’ll lay it out for her.” He knocks the cherry of his cigarette off against the brick and pinches the tip. There’s an ashtray-trashcan combo by the door. Wall will ream anyone who flicks a butt on the ground.

“What if she don’t bite?” Unease churns in my chest again.

“I’m a very persuasive man.”

I hope so. I have always backed my brothers one hundred percent. I was born and raised in this club. I’ve never gone against them. I never would.

But for this tiny slip of a girl with big brown eyes and a crooked smile?

My back molars grind, and a jolt of adrenaline shoots through my veins. I ain’t thinkin’ straight.

This better go like Heavy thinks it will.

5

FAY-LEE

I’m gonna die in a dank basement gym that smells like ball sweat. Jed is probably gonna brain me with a ten-pound weight. He’d enjoy it, too. He’s muttering in the corner with Nickel, shooting me nasty looks. He doesn’t like that Dizzy made him back off.

He was a lot nicer when I met him with Chaos when we first came to town. We went to some honkytonk bar, and Jed and I played horseshoes out back while Chaos met with some old dude.

Mikey’s on his phone next to me watching videos with the sound off, laughing to himself every so often.

Grinder’s inspecting the treadmill. He’s an older dude, grizzled and barrel-chested, belt holding up his beer belly. I’ll go out on a limb and venture a guess that he’s not familiar with the machine.

There are two other brothers whose names I don’t know, standing sentry at the exit, stone-faced and menacing.

I’m terrified, but I’m also bizarrely calm. My ass is sore. I shift from cheek to cheek, but that doesn’t make it better for long. My brain’s also foggy.

Dizzy wasn’t messing around. He walloped me good. I haven’t gotten a whuppin’ like that since I got big enough to outrun Mama. I should be livid.

I was hysterical, though. Those men surrounded me, and I got the suffocating feeling. I kept flashing back to the shed. I was out of my mind. Now I’m not. Kind of like I had the hiccups, and he scared them out of me.

Of course, I’m not okay with him doing it.

But okay feels really relative right now. I’m being held hostage, and from the expression on these guys’ faces, they aren’t just pissed that I’ve been sneaking in and stealing booze. Somehow, I’ve fucked up in a serious way.

I rest my hand on the bump the knife makes in my pocket. By the time I get it out and open, they’d have me disarmed, but the gesture was nice.

Dizzy’s nice.

Maybe that’s not the word for it. Nice guys don’t spank your bare ass and kidnap you and whatnot. All I know is I’ll feel better when he comes back. When Jed grabbed my face, Dizzy laid him out.

Boom. One hit. On the floor. After that, all the men in the room kind of shuffled back, gave me space.

Shit. What if Heavy took him out to get him out of the way? My heartbeat kicks up. My knee jiggles. Mikey glances over.

“Not much longer,” he says.

Dread creeps over me. I really don’t want to die. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life, but I want time to decide.

---