Page 93 of Restless
Boy frowned. “Jesus.”
Hearing Bailey hadn’t contacted Roxanne worsened Mort’s mood. “On that note, call Red. She really having a bad time.”
“Tomorrow,” Knox said.
“Tonight,” Mortician stressed.
“I’ll call her,” Roxanne promised, as good as her word. “I wish I was a member of the club. I’d vote to make you vice-president. Johnnie’s too fucking unstable for the position.” She hung up.
“That was intense,” Dez remarked. “Who is she?”
“Mort’s mother-in-law,” Derby volunteered, before Mort decided if he wanted to share the information. “That bitch is gorgeous. Even in her late 50s.”
“Ever do something so she’ll have to spank you, Mort?” Boy asked.
“Shut up, both of you,” Mort ordered, ignoring the snickers, including Digger’s. “Such supreme disrespect to my mama-in-law won’t be tolerated.” He glared at Digger, happy when the motherfucker snapped his mouth shut.
“We’re not disrespecting her, Mort,” Derby denied. “Fuck, I’d have her at my side quicker than I’d have some of my fucking pussy-faced brothers.”
“Enough about Roxanne, bruh,” Digger said. “What the fuck did Harley say to you? Tell us, thenwe’lltell you if you or Bailey is right.”
“What the fuck difference does it make, son? Roxanne opinion not good enough?”
Derby waved his hand in disgust. “Cunts stick together, brother. She’s saying all that right now because Bailey must’ve angered her, too. Otherwise, she’d be down your ass to forgive and forget.”
“Actually, Roxanne fair-minded.” Digger beat Mortician to the announcement. “Whether she mad at Bailey or not, if she think Mort right, she taking his side.”
“Fuck, I wish she was my mother-in-law,” Boy said.
“I met your in-laws, fool,” Mortician said. They owned a wedding shop that Mortician used during his church wedding to Bailey. “They good people.”
“Danicka is always right. No matter what.”
“Yeah, asshole, to them,” Derby pointed out. “To you, she’s a fucking idiot. Gypsy never would’ve given me a pass to fuck whores because I set up a fucking Bitch Fund.”
“Yeah, bruh, howdothat shit work?” Digger asked. “Whether you giving them money or not, you still sticking your cock in other bitches.”
“She gets half the cut,” Boy admitted.
“You paying your bitch to look the other way when you fuck other bitches and that’s fine with her?” Digger asked in astonishment.
“As long as I confine it to special occasions. Casino night, my birthday, Christmas, New Year’s.”
“Valentine’s Day?” Digger asked.
“Definitely not! She threatened to burn my fucking house down while I slept.”
They all laughed.
“Come on, Mort, confess,” Digger said, once the funny moment passed.
Mort shrugged.
Derby lit another cigarette. Mort realized he hadn’t paid attention to notice when the motherfucker finished the last one.
Silently, he smoked, studying Mort like a specimen under a microscope.
He tamped ashes. “Did I ever tell you about Oscar, my oldest kid?”
