Page 250 of Fearless

“Not that much.” He winced. “Five grand.”

“Shit,” Mercy repeated. He stood, so he could read Remy’s face better. “Dad, why didn’t you come to me?”

“I knew you didn’t have–”

“I’ve got more money than you think, and nothing to spend it on but bike parts and liquor. Hell, if you wanted a loan, you coulda got one from the club.”

“I didn’t want to owe them and cause any trouble for you.”

“ ‘Course not. Now you just owe Dee, and that’s trouble for you. How’s that any better?”

“Well, what’s done is done. I borrowed the money and now I owe it. No sense crying over what I can’t change.”

Mercy sighed. Typical Daddy, trying to act prosaic, as if that made it any more palatable. “Lemme guess. She’s ready to collect, and you don’t have the money.”

“Not yet, but I will,” Remy said. “I just gotta check my lines tomorrow. I should have caught enough…”

But Mercy was shaking his head. “Nah. You know that’s not gonna work.”

Remy glanced across the parking lot, looking, for the first time in Mercy’s memory, like he was getting older. The flecks of silver in his black hair, the deep sun lines on his face. He was the dark and shadowed version of the Louis Lécuyer Mercy only knew from photographs.

“What did you need the money for?” he asked quietly.

Remy took a deep breath and looked sort of caved-in when he let it back out. “Your grandmother needed to have some tests run at the doctor.”

Mercy could have kicked himself. All this time he’d spent with his new brothers, the long runs, growing into his new big boots as a Lean Dog, and the family who’d raised him with such love had been languishing in the swamp, money so tight that Daddy had borrowed from The Bitch in order to pay for Gram’s medical tests.

What a failure at being a son and grandson, after they’d reared and educated him. Had the bikes and the big tits really been worth the trade?

“Daddy, I tell ya what.” He touched his father on the shoulder. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ll take some of what I got, borrow a little from Bob or Champ” – the reigning president – “and I’ll go pay Dee. I’ll take care of it.”

Remy’s face was pained. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Sure you can. That’s what kids are for, right? To return the favor.” He smiled. “Let me help. I’ll go see Dee today. And after, I’ll come out and have dinner with you and Gram. Hell, I’ll cook dinner.”

Remy’s half-smile was heavy with emotion. “Do I ever tell you how proud I am of you, Felix?”

“All the time.”

An hour later, pockets fat with cash, he left the clubhouse and went to his mother’s place on St. Ann. Originally purchased for her by a john, its payments had been paid over the years by boyfriends and clients alike. She liked to call herself a “woman of independent means,” which couldn’t have been further from the truth, but there was no convincing her of that. “When you have to keep sucking dick to pay your mortgage, you’re dependent on everyone but yourself,” Mercy had told her during their last meeting. That had been his birthday, if he remembered correctly.

He parked his bike on the curb and took the two steps across the sidewalk and up the stoop to ring the bell.

Barbara answered the door, in one of her usual cotton dresses and her slender flat shoes. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Felix.”

“You never see me more often than that,” he returned, stooping to kiss her cheek as he entered. “Is Dee here?”

“She’s entertaining.”

“That’s alright, I won’t be long.”

He went to the spare bedroom, because that was where she “entertained,” and because that’s where the sounds were coming from. He knocked hard on the door and called, “Dee!” in a voice that would have caught the attention of the hearing impaired.

A moment later, the door cracked, and his mother wedged herself into the small gap. She had on nightclub makeup, and too much hairspray. She wore a red silk robe open over a black bra and leather miniskirt. There was a riding crop sticking out of the top of one tall black boot.

She gave him a pinched, put-out look. “Where the hell are your manners, Felix? You can’t just come barging in here while I’m working.”

“Is that what you call it these days? Working?” He gave her his fakest, sweetest smile, then dropped it like it hurt his face. It did, actually. “I came to settle up Dad’s tab with you.” He fished the money from his cut pocket and flashed it under her nose. “That’s what he owes you, plus interest. Take it, and then leave him alone.”

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