Page 68 of Worse Than Wicked
I’m outside before I remember I don’t have a fucking car. I go back in, but Harper and Royal are busy with the kids, and Crystal is napping with the baby.
I find Devlin out back, putting up a tree swing.
“Hey,” I say. “Let me borrow your car.”
He straightens and squints at me. “You been drinking?”
“No,” I say, scowling at him.
“You smell like you’ve been drinking.”
“Fuck off,” I say. “And stop knocking up my sister. She needs a break.”
I turn and head around the other side of the house. I sit on one of the curving staircases out front and call Maverick.
“Hey,” I say. “I need something.”
“Yeah?” he says. “Pull up. I’m at the shop.”
“I don’t have a car,” I say. “Come get me.”
“Needy little bitch, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you.”
“Been trying for years, pretty boy.”
“I’ll make it worth your time,” I say.
“Oh yeah?”
“I’ll pay you double what you’ll make at the tattoo parlor.”
“I don’t make house calls.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “You make them for Colt.”
“Colt’s my friend.”
“I’m your friend.”
“You’re barely a client.”
“Pick me up,” I say. “I gotta get out of here, and it’s not two in the morning this time.”
“Where you at?”
“My house. And bring some bitches. I wanna fuck.”
“I fuck.”
“You can fuck them too.”
He laughs quietly. “You owe me.”
I go inside and grab a couple beers, then peek into the living room. The kids are all piled onto sofas and chairs and pillows on the floor, watching Olive kick some kid’s ass in a car racing video game. He spins out and crashes, and the game ends.
Olive throws down her controller and jumps up and starts doing a victory dance, which is really just twerking. “Oh yeah!”she yells, bouncing her non-existent ass up and down. “Suck my clit, loser!”
