Page 15 of Shame

He tugs the chair over and throws his feet up on it. No wonder it’s dirty. His feet look toxic.

I won’t get anywhere unless I do what he wants or I hold a gun to his head—something I don’t wanna do because I don’t have one but also I do like the guy—I pop the top off the beer, toss it into the fire pit, and take a swig.

“Now that’s more like it,” he says, taking a mouthful of his own beer.

“Should you be drinking on the job?” I ask.

“It’s Sunday. No work today.”

“No? Then why is the open sign on the front?”

“I didn’t say we ain’t open. I just said I ain’t working.”

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head as I take another swig. It’s a reminder to pick up some beers before I hit my boat. Forgot all about it until now.

“So, how’s the family? The club? What’s Kolton up to these days?”

Pig knew my brother and I before we were patched in, meaning he has this nasty habit of calling us by our legal names. Can’t really get mad at him for it, especially when it’s just us.

“Same shit. Everyone’s good. How’s business?”

“Busy as usual. You know people in this town don’t treat their cars right.”

“Think that’s true for most towns.”

“You’re probably right.”

I finish my beer, tossing the bottle into the plastic barrel that’s full of bottles and cans. It clanks loudly but doesn’t fall out.

“How much longer you gonna make me stay here?”

“You late for a date or something? You sure are quick to get out of here.”

“Yeah, with the fish. It’s Sunday, Pig. I got no plans but spending my day on a boat.”

“Shit, why didn’t you say that?” He puts his feet on the ground and gets up to dig around in his back pocket. There’s a folded piece of paper that he pulls out and shoves at me.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask as I take it.

He smirks. “Open it and find out.”

I unfold the paper, righting it when I see it’s upside down. I grin when I read what it says.

“Told you you’d want it,” Pig says with a chuckle.

“Thanks, Pig.” I slap him on the shoulder, giving him a little shake.

“Any time, bro. Any time.”

I have one more beer with the guy since the note heightened my mood. Before I drive off, I read the note again and give Cora a call.

She doesn’t answer. The voicemail is one of those automated ones, and I don’t bother leaving a message. Do people check voicemails these days? I sure as shit don’t.

I drop the phone onto the bench seat and put the truck in drive. I make it all of five feet before I jerk it into park and grab my phone. No one answers numbers they don’t know. I can’t expect her to call me back if she doesn’t know it’s me. So I type out a text, letting her know who it is and that I’d like her to call me back when she has a few minutes. Satisfied, I drive off and don’t stop until I get to the lake—well, except for the quick stop to grab some beers.

My boat is the only left at the docks when I get there. It’s a great day for fishing, so I’m not surprised everyone is out doing their thing. With my case of beer in hand, I step aboard and start her up. I do a quick check over to make sure she’s good, since I haven’t taken her out in a while, and when everything checks, I take off.

Cracking open a beer, I make my way around the lake, going for a joyride before finding a place to chill, enjoy the peace, the beers, and catch some fish.

---