Page 99 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

“The usual?” I ask the guys, pulling the phone away from my face for a second.

They all nod, and then I look to River. She doesn’t have a usual yet. Not with us, anyway, and this feels like the beginning of a tradition.

“Kung pao chicken. White rice. Crab rangoon,” she says softly, and then flashes me a little smile.

I give her a thumbs up and then relay our massive order to the woman over the phone. She takes it down and reads it back to me.

“You’re amazing,” I tell her. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Oh, stop,” she says, giggling again. “Twenty minutes.”

“We’ll be there.”

It takes less than twenty for us to get there, but the food is already ready when we walk in. And true to form, there are extra dumplings in the bag.

I thank her profusely, then dart back out into the rain and slide into the car. The smell of Chinese food fills the car as we finish the drive home, strong enough to overpower the scent of sex that still clings to all of us despite the rain.

We put on clean, dry clothes as soon as we get back, and then all end up in the living room instead of the kitchen. It’s more comfortable, and we can all pack in on the couch and the loveseat, spreading the food out on the coffee table.

We open up all the containers, everybody trying bits from everybody else’s orders.

I have a bite of River’s chicken and cough a little at the spice.

She laughs at me and passes me a soda, patting me on the back.

“It’s okay,” she teases. “I like it hot.”

“Yeah. I’ve figured that out about you.” I wink at her before taking a long drink and then going back to my lemon chicken.

A few minutes later, Dog comes in to beg for food, his brown eyes big and his tongue hanging out.

“You’d think you never, ever get fed,” Priest comments, shaking his head. “And Chinese food isn’t for dogs. You have a whole bowl of kibble in there to eat.”

The dog seems to think he’s being offered the amazing opportunity to eat directly out of Priest’s takeout container, and Priest rolls his eyes and holds it up out of his reach.

Dog whines, looking around with a sad expression.

“Hey, Jason Momoa here was fed a delicious diet of takeout and trash for most of his life, so he’s used to it. He can handle it.” River tosses an egg roll at him, and he snaps it out of the air, munching it down faster than we can even track.

Once the food is mostly gone, Knox gets up and grabs a bottle of whiskey, popping it open and taking a swig right from the bottle. He settles in on the loveseat and passes the bottle to me.

I take a long drink, letting the warmth settle in my bones before handing it off to River.

It’s nice, just hanging out like this. Enjoying each other’s company. The guys and I used to do this all the time before we had so much shit to do, just hanging out together and shooting the shit.

We’ve never really gotten to do it with River before. There’s never been time.

It’s been one thing after another, so just hanging out, eating too much food and chasing it with good booze is nice. For once, we can let tomorrow’s worries be for tomorrow and just enjoy tonight.

After a while, I start telling embarrassing stories about the other guys, and they gladly return the favor and talk shit about me. It’s mostly just to make River laugh, since we all know each other’s embarrassing stories already.

And she does laugh. Her eyes are bright, and she almost chokes on some rice when Knox tells a story about me falling into a fountain.

“He thought he was so cool,” Knox says, cackling. “He did his fancy coin shit and tossed it in and then looked at this girl like ‘make a wish.’” He makes his voice a little higher, clearly trying to imitate me.

“I don’t sound like that,” I argue, rolling my eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at my lips.

“You definitely do,” Knox shoots back. “Oh wait, actually it should be more like ‘make a wish.’” He makes the voice breathier, like I was in the middle of reading a steamy novel or something when I said it.

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