Page 21 of Inglorious
“Yup.”
Inglorious
Fuck, a shower felt good. No way I’d wear those clothes again. I’d get a prospect to burn them. I shoved them into a bag and looked around my new room before washing my hands again. Who knew what had been living in those clothes? I shuddered at the state of them and tied the bag up to hide the stench.
Opening the built-in closet door, I discovered all my clothes neatly hung up. I yanked on jeans and a tee before reaching for my cut. Shock hit me all over again when I saw the president’s patch had been removed. Fuck. I’d bled for the right to be called that, and now I’d lost it.
Grumpy and depressed, I headed out carrying the bag, which continued to abuse my nostrils. As I entered the common room, I saw King heading towards me. I tossed the bag at him.
“Burn that,” I ordered.
King sent me a startled look.
“Burn it yourself. King is a brother, not a prospect, and therefore doesn’t take orders from you,” Nanci said from behind me.
Angrily, I turned around, ready to fight her. Apache straightened beside her, reading my mood. Nanci, however, boldly faced off against me.
“Don’t push me!” I warned.
“Or what? You’ve no power here, Inglorious. I told you that you were on scut work, and it seems you’ve ignored that already. So, I’ll repeat it. There are no prospects until I recruit. Which means you’ll pick up their duties. Take that bag and burn the fucker. Then get back in here, you’re painting my new room today,” Nanci said.
To my utter disbelief, Nanci turned her back on me, completely unconcerned.
“You gonna stand by while such disrespect is shown?” I demanded, spotting Chill.
“Yeah, because we both deserve it. Deep down, you know that, too. Just… I don’t know… go with the flow.”
“Go with the flow,” I bitched as I marched out. I headed round back and found a trash can, shoved the bag inside, and set the damn thing on fire. My eyes watered at the fumes, but half an hour later, there was nothing left. Just like my life.
Nanci was waiting when I returned. Apache was gone, probably around still, but no longer at her side.
“I want you to paint my room. The tins inside are for it,” she said.
“Want me to kiss your feet while you’re at it?” I demanded. Chill and King stared, and I held their gazes before turning a sneer on Nanci.
“Not yet. That might come later. Inglorious, you’re spoiling for a fight. You want to let off steam, face Vortex in the ring later. Now go and paint my room… please,” she said.
Unsure whether to bite Nanci’s head off, hit the bar, or sulk, I walked away, trying to keep my dignity intact.
Inwardly, I snorted to myself. What fuckin’ dignity? Alcohol and that miniature dictator wearing my patch had stripped it away from me. Nanci Rosky had become a ball-buster in the time since she’d been gone. And shit if it didn’t suit her!
Chapter Five.
Inglorious
How the fuck did I end up here? I would love to say I didn’t know. But it was a woman’s fault whose name began with N. AA was for losers, and I wasn’t one. I was a man struck with grief, remorse, and agony at his losses. Hell, I wasn’t an alcoholic. I could handle my drink, so I told myself.
The truth was much worse.
I stared at the building, not wanting to go inside and admit I was an addict. Addict seemed such a dirty word to me. But here I was. Having been locked in a cell for a week while I dried out, I now stood in front of AA. Did everyone who came here have second thoughts? Did they all feel like losers?
“Hey, you coming in or going to stand there?” a woman asked, and I startled in surprise. I’d not seen her approach.
“Hey,” I muttered somewhat lamely.
“That didn’t answer my question,” she replied with a grin.
“What’s with women busting my balls lately?” I demanded, and she laughed.
