Page 1 of Insurgent

Chapter One

Bones

2015

I sit at the bar, watching the game on TV as people drink and carry on behind me.

“So, he asks, ‘What do you think your girl fantasizes about while she’s fucking you?’” Yaps says to Sweep.

Yaps is a big mouth. Talks too much so we call him Yaps, short for Yapper. He hangs out here at my bar and shoots the shit with the boys. Also loses a lot in poker and does too much cocaine, but he makes me money, so I tolerate him. But right now, I’m watching this shit show of him eating olives and talking with his mouth full.

It’s slightly annoying me.

Trig looks around the bar, bringing his beer to his mouth. “And what did you say?”

“I shrugged and said, ‘I don’t know. What the fuck do you think she fantasizes about?’ You know what that motherfucker said?” He grabs an olive from the bowl he requested from Mae, popping it into his mouth and chewing.

Sweep picks his favorite nut from the dish on the bar, clearly uninterested like he is with a lot of things. If it doesn’t involve sports and beer, Sweep doesn’t give a shit.

“I give up,” Trig says.

“He said, ‘Me,’” Yaps says, chewing with his mouth open.

I take a sip of my beer.

“So, I hit the fucker upside the head with a beer bottle.” He laughs, showing us what’s in his big fat mouth.

“You know what?” I say to him, grabbing my cigarillo case from my jacket’s pocket.

He looks at me, his chest still bouncing because he thinks he’s so funny.

“What, Bones?” he asks, helping himself to another olive.

I light my smoke. “I’ve sat here and watched you for five minutes talk and talk and eat olive after olive and talk and talk.” I make circles in the air with my hand, then point to the bowl. “You stick the olive in your fat mouth, and you keep talking like there’s nothing in there. Didn’t your ma teach you any manners?”

His eyes look from me to Sweep.

“Don’t look at Sweep. I’m asking you a question. Did your ma teach you any fucking manners?”

“Yes, B…”

I hold up my hand. “You’ve still got food inside your mouth. You spit when you talk. How about chew the shit and then speak? Also, you do too much. Hitting the man with a beer bottle ’cause he was telling you a joke.”

He swallows. “You wouldn’t have done the same if someone was talking about your girl?” he asks.

“I don’t have a girl.”

“That’s right. You’re the no-commitment type. Guess I would be, too, if I did the shit you did. Enemies would come after her like white on rice.” He chuckles, taking a big swig of whiskey, signaling for Mae to get him another.

My jaw tightens, and my blood turns icy at the lack of respect this motherfucker has. What does he know of the things I’ve done?

“Trying to teach me about manners. I got fucking manners. What manners do you got, huh? Mae, can a man get a drink around here?”

“Yaps,” Sweep warns.

Yaps looks over at him. “What? The man’s saying my ma didn’t teach me any manners. I ain’t got a right to be upset about it?”

I hit my smoke as Mae walks over. She looks at me. I nod, telling her it’s fine. Give the man another drink. Silence hangs in the air, and then as if he realizes what he’s done, he turns to me.

---