Page 104 of Restless
“Who else is at the table, listening to myprivateconversation?” Meggie demanded.
“Dez,” Derby answered, smirking.
“Hello, Meggie,” Dez said, adopting the same condescension as Derby.
“Hello, Dez.” Meggie ignored the motherfucker’s tone and drew in an audible breath. “Mortician, are you okay?”
No. “What do you want me to say, Meggie girl?”
“That’s my answer,” she said with a sigh. “Are you going home tonight?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless I decide to camp here.”
“I do believe there are six houses besides yours that you could sleep at,” she replied.
“Don’t volunteermyhouse, girl,” Digger said, shaking his head.
“He’syourbrother,” Meggie retorted. “If you don’t want to go home, go to the clubhouse, Mortician. I’ll hang up and call Christopher to tell him you need a room at the club, so he can let Potter know in case one of the bigger rooms is occupied. It’ll be vacated by the time you arrive.”
“Maybe, you right,” he conceded, at loose ends. BaileyorHarley seeing him in such a disparaging light would’ve been bad enough. Knowingbothfelt that way…
“Mortician, listen to me,” Meggie said into the silence. “I can’t make the decision for you. Returning to the club or your house is up to you. When my marriage was on shaky ground, you advised me. I’m returning the favor. You’re vulnerable right now. You’re a fine, upstanding man, but hurt and anger can make us do stupid things. You don’t want to threaten your marriage by a moment of weakness. I’m sure there are a bunch of beautiful,nakedwomen at your beck and call.”
“Outlaw opens his fucking mouth to much,” Derby said with disgust.
“Call him and tell him, Derby,” Meggie ordered, then returned to her pep talk without missing a beat. “You could accidentally cheat, Mort.”
Mortician grinned. “How the fuck that work?”
“If you drink too much and go to a room, a girl might come in and you have sex with her while you’re under the influence.”
“You do know even Rebel call fucking fucking, right, Meggie?” Digger called.
“Man, shut the fuck up,” Mortician commanded.
“As a matter of fact, I do, Digger,” Meggie said. “I don’t care if you’re frustrated, back off right now. We can talk when I get home.”
“What the fuck, baby?”
Every motherfucker at the table straightened at Outlaw’s question.
“I left and you was sleepin’ like a motherfucker. Now, you talkin’ to…?”
“Mortician,” she supplied, because of course she did.
“Mort?”
“Yes, Christopher. Wait—”
“You like livin’, motherfucker? Why you keepin’ my woman up?”
“Christopher!”
“Ain’t givin’ you this fuckin’ phone back, baby. Answer me, Mort…ouch! Why the fuck you dug your fuckin’ nails in my fuckin’ arm?”
“Icalled Mortician, Christopher.”
“And he fuckin’ answered at almost three in the fuckin’ mornin’ when he know he keepin’ you up?”
