Page 15 of Tank

“He has a meeting at his son’s school.” I let him know, shaking his rough, leathery hand and then following him to the porch where his premium quality moonshine sits, ready for distribution.

“Which one? The big one or the little one?”

“The little one, Elio.”

He nods, roughly stroking his stubble. “Figures. First time that kid turned up here he asked if I could boil a human. Just like his aunt.”

I let out a huff and carry his crates to the truck, the old boy following behind as if he’s helping. “Yeah, it’s nice that Elio has someone who understands him.”

“Should probably keep him away from Sid though, unless Marx wants the boy as the next generation MC enforcer,” He grins wide with a twinkle in his eye. “You wanna stay for a drink? We haven’t played scrabble in a while.”

“Sorry Bud, I’ll have to take a raincheck. I’m on a callout and shit is busy over at Big Tow,” I tell him, securing everything tightly. Can’t lose a drop of this liquid gold.

“Shit, son, what the hell are you doing lollygagging here with me then? Get outta here and get to work, lazy bum.” His eyes twinkle with mirth and I wave him off.

“I’ll do next pick up and play a game with ya. Til then old man,” He flips the bird at me and heads back to his porch chuckling to himself.

Getting into the truck I fire her up and head out to the middle of nowhere. The GPS tells me I should be coming up tomy location and yet there doesn’t seem to be anyone out here. Checking both my left and right sides they’re as empty as the road ahead. Punching in Judge’s number I wait as the ring tone sounds out over the truck’s speakers.

“Yo?”

“Yeah, you sure this was the location? There’s no one here.” I tell him, eyes searching. There don’t seem to be any ditches or hills for them to roll down, but people are stupid so you never know what type of shit they get themselves into.

Judge reads out the GPS location the caller gave and I check my equipment, letting him know I’m in the exact spot I’m meant to be.

“Shit, I don’t know what to tell you, brother,” his gruff voice fills up the truck cab.

“Fuck it. They must have sorted themselves out. I’m coming in.”

Judge hangs up abruptly, like he always does. I used to think it was just the way he spoke to his brothers, but I’ve seen him do it with customers too, so it’s obviously just how he ends calls. I shake my head and I wonder whose fucking bright idea it was to have Judge and I work the tow company. I mean I’m not the chattiest guy in the world and Judge talks even less. Neither of us are fit for a front-facing role either, which is why every morning we play three rounds of rock, paper, scissors to decide who’s working the counter. Not that it matters much these days seeing how often we’re both out of the office most of the time.

Glancing into the rearview I notice a flashy, Fast and Furious matchbox car behind me. I have no fucking clue where they came from, but they’re tailing me pretty fucking closely. I could do the decent thing and pull over, letting them overtake me, but I don’t like the look of this greasy little shithead.

The car speeds up a little more, really tailgating me now, and it’s pissing me off. I weigh up my options. I can speed up, slowdown, or jam on the brakes and let him crash his piece of shit into me. Decisions, decisions.

“Call Judge,” I growl at my phone.

“Yo.”

“How much would it piss Marx off if I purposely got rear-ended?”

Judge’s chuckle vibrates through the speaker. “A lot.”

“Dammit.”

I beat him to the punch and hang up on him this time, laughing to myself. I notice the junker behind me pull out to overtake, speeding up on my left. Our driver’s side windows level out and I take note of the scrawny, greasy looking shithead driving and the bleach blonde in the passenger seat. Fuck, is that one of the old bunnies? Whitney? She gives me a little finger wave then leans into the lap of the douchebag driving, his tiny dick hanging out the front of his jeans. He stares me down, smirking as he presses her face to his junk and speeds past, veering in front of me, having barely cleared the front of the truck.

Fucker. I crank my music up so that I can feel the bass vibrate through me to calm myself and my thoughts. By the time I pull into the yard I feel better, but my mind is still busy playing the call out and crossing paths with Whitney over and over. Something feels a little off but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Shrugging it off I crawl to a stop in the assigned garage and get busy unloading the crates of ‘shine.

“Knock off time,” Judge says as soon as I walk into the office.

“Thank fuck. That call out was a waste and to make matters worse, I had Whitney and her new little boyfriend riding my ass most of the way back to town.”

Judge’s brows pull in for a moment and he looks down at the papers in his hands, riffling through them. “That’s the sixthbogus call since the complaint to Rose Grove’s finest.” He hands me the paperwork and I flick through it. He’s right.

“You think someone is messing with me?” I ask, eyes still on the paperwork, waiting for something to jump out at me.

“Say so. Should give that shit to Wire and his team.”

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