Page 29 of Cash

Meanwhile across town, James is on a mission.

I know what I’m about to do is probably wrong, but it’s getting done. No one shits on Livi without me acting on it. It doesn’t matter squat to me if it’s a coworker, superior officer or a large, buff biker.

Walking into the strip club owned by the Devil’s Angels, I stop inside the door for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Spotting what I’m looking for, I aim myself to the bar. Sliding onto a stool next to a guy wearing a Devil’s Angels cut, I wait for the bartender to look my direction. I point to the beer tap and wait patiently for my drink to be placed in front of me. I thank the female bartender and toss a ten on the bar before turning to the biker on my right.

“I see by your cut you’re a member of the Devil’s Angels.”

“Yeah. That a problem?” the guy asks while turning to face me fully.

I note that the guy’s fucking hot as hell with his tats, scruff and long, black hair. Pigeon is the name printed on a patch on his well-developed chest, but that’s not what I’m here for, so I push forward.

“You have a member named Cash, correct?”

“Maybe. Why you asking?” the biker questions while two more cut-wearing members tune in to our conversation.

“Name’s James Green. That doesn’t mean anything to you and until last night, it shouldn’t. But it will from this point forward, so you should remember it. Your buddy Cash fucked up and shit on a friend of mine. Because I believe in sharing the love, each member of your club is now on my radar,” I inform them while sipping casually from my glass.

I watch carefully as surprise hits all their faces.

“Not sure what your beef is with Cash. Don’t know if I even care, but let me get this straight. Are you threatening members of the Devil’s Angels?” the biker named Pigeon asks.

“I’d be having this conversation with him if I knew where to find him. But I’m guessing he’s crawled back under the rock he crawled out from. If you’d be so kind as to share this with him, I’d appreciate it. So, to answer your question, I’m making it clear as fuck that I have no use for anyone wearing the same cut he wears,” I answer while pulling my wallet out, opening and laying it badge up on the bar.

I wait a moment before finishing up my business here.

“I’m not a dirty cop. Never have been, never will be. What I’m saying is that I’ll be watching for your patch every damn day from now on. When I see it, I will make that person’s day a little worse. Maybe something as simple as a parking or speeding ticket. Probably nothing too serious and definitely nothing illegal. I don’t play that side. But you can all thank Cash when you get stopped, and you better pray I don’t find a reason to arrest any of you. I have very large hands, and I promise none of you want to be on the business end of a body cavity search,” I promise while shooting them an evil smile.

I down my beer, put my wallet back in my pocket and stand from the stool. Glancing at each of their faces, I return my eyes to the long-haired biker.

“I’m thinking I hope it’s you who earns a cavity search. I know one of us would enjoy the fuck out of it.”

*~*~*~*

When I finally pull my ass out of bed, it’s late afternoon. I shower, down some more ibuprofen and eat some toast. Feeling mostly human, I sit outside on my tiny patio while Snots roams the backyard. Sipping my coffee, I watch him sniffing the ground in various places before finally choosing a spot to do his business. Picking up my cell phone, I shoot off a text to James.

Me: Did I thank you for the save last night?

James: Many times. How you feeling?

Me: Better now. Next time I get stood up, please cut me off a few drinks sooner though. Most of last night’s a blur.

James: I tried but you threatened genital mutilation. Just sayin’, tequila’s not your friend.

Me: Truth. Did I get us banned from anywhere?

James: Nowhere important. The Dockside waters their drinks anyway so who cares if our faces are now on wanted posters there?

Me: I feel like I should start saying I’m sorry now.

James: You’re my girl. You never need to say you’re sorry. You coming to Mom’s for dinner?

Me: Yeah of course. Not even a hungover me would say no to dinner with your family. Be there at 6. What can I bring?

James: Snots. Mom loves that 4-legged shit pile.

Me: See you then

*~*~*~*

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