Page 20 of Joker's Ghost
“I’m fine.”
“You’re the VP of one of the toughest outlaw clubs in Southern Nevada, which tells me you don’t get rattled easy, yet a near miss out there has you shaking and sweating like a heroin addict.”
Guess I’m not as good an actor as I thought.
“For a minute I thought you were gonna puke on my boots.”
“Yeah, well, almost getting flattened by a two-ton car will do that to a guy.”
“Bullshit!”
Typical Gus, with one word, he explained it all. Back in the day, he rode with the Renegades in San Diego, and he has the scars, stories and even a bullet hole to prove it. The man knows the life, so him calling me out speaks volumes.
“I didn’t feel so good yesterday. I think I’m still fighting off that stomach bug.”
“A stomach bug doesn’t make you lose your nerve. I saw a look pass over your face I’ve never seen before.” Gus shakes his head. “When Daisy was kidnapped and pregnant with Deana, you kept it together the whole time, but a near miss in the garage winds you up. “He shakes his head. “I don’t buy it.”
“I just got a lot going on.” Like a dead Shoshone Indian who put a curse on me and my family.
“I don’t wanna get into your business, kid, but you and I know each other too well.” He runs his hand over histhinning hair. “Like last year when you called me out for hitting the booze again. You made sure I got back to meetings and dogged me until I was straight. Maybe I just wanna repay the favor.”
The old man is gruff and brutally honest, but he’s true and real.
I suck in a deep breath. “You’re gonna think I’m nuts.”
“Won’t be the first time.”
I weigh the odds. Gus has probably heard it all in his fifty-plus years, and one thing I know for certain, he would call me out and tell it to me straight, or call me out and tell me I’m fuckin’ crazy.
“We had some business with the Nomads from up by Lake Tahoe.”
“Big club with a lot of pull. The Shoshones have charters all the way up to Oregon.”
“Yeah, well, they’ve been having trouble with two of their members who were dipping their fingers into Serpents’ shit. They stripped them of their patches, but it didn’t stop them from hijacking our shipments coming up from Mexico. We had a sit-down with the Nomads, then got their permission to take care of the problem.”
“So, what’s the big deal?”
“When we had them duct-taped to a chair, one of them—ahhh, fuck—one of them put a curse on me and my family.”
“Hmmmm.”
“Go ahead and laugh your ass off, old man. I know you want to, and I know it sounds crazy, but?—”
“Doesn’t sound crazy to me. The Shoshones have mystical beliefs and spiritual traditions dating back thousands of years. They also have healing powers that have been proven today.”
“So, you think this curse thing might be real?”
“Hard to say.”
“C’mon, you gotta do better than that.”
“What makes you think it’s real?”
“For the last two days since the meet, strange shit has been happening to me. Bad plugs on my bike after they’d been changed, a feeling of dread in my gut like something really fucked up is gonna happen, and then this.” I wave my hand toward the garage. “Fuckin’ spooky.”
“But all easily explained. Plugs were bad, fluid leak in the lift, and a stomach bug can hit anybody.” Gus shrugs. “All normal shit.”
“Except you don’t believe that either.”
