Page 14 of Shame

I hold my hands up, slowly moving away and hiding my smirk. “Just doing a good deed, sir.”

“The hell is all this?” Deputy Shaw grunts as he stops beside the sheriff.

I wave before hopping into my truck and taking off, laughing like a maniac at the mountain of guns in the station parking lot that they’ll have to check, tag, and put into the system.

At least they’re all gone from Harry’s. No way for Ed to get to them now. Wouldn’t be surprised if that fool has some hidden in the woods or buried in the dirt. He needs guns like he needs alcohol.

It’s Sunday morning, and I’m a free man all day. It’s later than I’d have liked to get started, but dealing with these guns was important since I didn’t get to it yesterday. Now that work is done, I plan to fish for the foreseeable future. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to go fishing. Today I’ve got the time, and the weather is cooperating.

My cell rings, and I frown as I look at it. No one calls me, especially on a Sunday when club shit is kept to a minimum. So who the fuck could that be? I turn over my phone and see Pig on the screen. Now this could be a call I don’t mind taking. I answer it, putting it on speaker.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I got something for you,” he says. I hear the smile in his voice.

“What the hell could you possibly have for me?”

“You get your ass down to the shop and have a beer with me and you’ll find out.”

He ends the call, not letting me argue.

With a huff, I veer onto the shoulder and turn my truck around. Guess I’m making a stop in the opposite fucking direction before I make it out to the lake. By the time I get there, there ain’t gonna be any damn fish left.

I park around the back of Pig’s ‘cause there’s never anyone in the front. All the fun goes on back here, where people can’t see.

Pig and I go way back, and I’m not one to hold favors over anyone’s head, but if there is anyone you want to have in your back pocket, it’s a mechanic. I know my way around a vehicle when it comes to simple shit, but the problem is I don’t have the damn time. Nor do I want to spend my free time working on a car. It’s just not my thing. That’s hard fucking work, and when I have free time, I wanna relax and fish or just sit out on the lake.

“Yo, fuckbag!” Pig shouts, holding his arms up. There’s a rag that looks like it was red once upon a time on one hand. Now it’s bleached in some spots while black with oil in others. Oil streaks his face, and I bet that’s what he uses to wipe away his sweat.

“Nice way to greet your favorite person,” I say as I walk toward him.

“You’re funny.” He nudges me with his elbow. At least he didn’t try hugging me again. Last time he did that, I had oil all over me, which was impossible to get off my clothes. I’m not wearing my cut right now, but I don’t want oil on my damn clothes.

“What do you have for me?” I ask.

“Naw, don’t be like that,” he says, shoving the cloth into his back pocket. “Come have a beer. Let’s talk. I never see you anymore.”

“You’re a mechanic who runs his own shop. Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” I ask as I follow.

“Always with the jokes.”

I’m not joking… I don’t tell him that, though.

The relationship I have with Pig is interesting. He’s more into me than I am him. Likely because I saved his life, and he feels indebted to me. I try not to use that against him too often, but I do when I need to. Like last night.

To be honest, Pig ain’t so bad. He’s just a lot. Too much energy. Takes too much outta me to spend time with him, and I don’t like that. When I hang out, I want quiet. Peaceful. I want to relax. It’s the only thing my brother and I have in common. We’re nothing like Rhino and Grizz, who spend every night at the bar or strip club. Who the fuck knows what Coyote gets up to every night. That fucker doesn’t let anyone know what he does in his free time. He’s hush-hush about everything in hislife. Always has been. Except when his dad was alive, he’d let some shit slip, and it’d piss off Coyote.

There’s a fire pit surrounded by law chairs and an old red cooler between two. He digs inside, pulling out two beers, then drops into one chair before offering me the bottle.

“Sit down. Take a load off.” He gestures to the dirty ass chairs on the other side of the cooler.

I take the beer and say, “I’ll stand.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man.”

“I ain’t you, Pig. I don’t love walking around with oil up my ass.”

Barking out a laugh, he twists the cap off his beer.

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