Page 9 of Joker's Ghost
We exchange a look, and Derek laughs. “Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in my room reading. So please, for my sake, don’t do anything dumb ‘cause I don’t feel like listening to him later.”
“Don’t worry, no more high wire acts.”
Derek and I have developed a very loving relationship and mutual trust, along with an innate understanding of how Joker’s mind works. We’d managed to get through the rough times and become a happy blended family. A family I couldn’t wait to add to. Having Joker, Derek and little Deana was all I needed, but adding this new baby makes it all the more perfect.
JOKER
I enter the back door of The Gold Mine, determined to keep my mind on business and shake off Warrior’s warnings. The guy is old as fuck, so maybe he’s delusional or got punched in the head one too many times. Or maybe the Nomads put him up to all that bullshit talk just to mess with us.
Only it wasn’t me and Cobra he messed with; it was justme. But that might’ve been part of the act too. Get to the VP with hopes of influencing the Prez to back down.
Yeah, that’s it. I enter the back room with a renewed well-being. All the shit I’ve been through, and I was gonna let some old man rattle me with his pseudo predictions?
I nod to the other Serpents already around the table and take my spot on Cobra’s right, with Python on his left and the rest of the brothers around the table.
Cobra slams down the gavel, the shit-talk stops, and he gets right to business. “Joker and I met with the Nomads today at The Cathouse. Seems Blade and Arrow aren’t happy about their former members’ bullshit and what’s been going on down here in Vegas either.”
“Shit, you had the meet at The Cathouse?” Rattler laughs, shaking his head. “Those lovely ladies were my first time. My father took me there on my thirteenth birthday.” He pulls his trademark smirk. “A birthday I will never forget.”
“Explains a lot,” Python deadpans.
“Maybe so,” Rattler adds, “but I never hear Serafina complaining.”
“Does she know where you learned all your tricks?” Mamba grins.
“She knows everything about me, and she loves me anyway.”
“All that time she has to spend in Hollywood with those movie stars and screenwriters,” Boa adds, “must be clouding her judgment.”
Rattler flips us all off, and Cobra slams down the gavel again. “Do you think we can stay on topic for at least ten minutes?” He shakes his head. “Like a bunch of fuckin’ children.”
“Worse.” Python laughs, which earns him a death stare from Cobra.
“As I was saying,” Cobra begins again. “The meet was somewhat successful, as in the Nomads don’t care how wehandle their renegade members, but we gotta do the handling.”
I lean into the table. “Seems there’s some old Shoshone law that forbids them from offing their own.”
Looks are exchanged around the table as Python pulls a pack of smokes out of his cut. “So, I assume if we do the job, there’ll be compensation.”
Cobra nods. “Absolutely.”
“I also understand there was some old guy there who spooked Joker.” Rattler mashes his lips together, holding back a smirk.
“Nobody spooked me.”
“You seemed pretty rattled when you got back to The Gold Mine earlier.”
“Bite me, asshole.” I try to make my words sound light, but all eyes turn toward me anyway.
Boa looks up from his laptop. “What’s he talking about?”
Boa holds the positions of both treasurer and secretary of the club, so he’s in charge of recording all the meetings.
“This older member, Warrior, was there with Blade and Arrow. Supposedly, Blade said he’s their spiritual leader, likes to keep the old ways of the Shoshones.” Cobra shrugs. “They called him a shaman.”
“Hmmm.” Boa taps his keyboard. “Some cultures look at them as healers, or the keeper of the spirits. The Shoshones believe they have supernatural powers and can see into the future. Back in the day, they called them medicine men, but even today, the shaman makes potions out of herbs that prove to be useful in curing certain ailments.”
“Fuck!” Python runs his hand through his hair. “You’re like a regular encyclopedia. How do you keep all that shit in your head?”
