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“When he focuses right, he’s passably accurate,” I told him, giving him enough of the truth without saying too much.
“Not every shot needs to be a head shot,” Huck said, shrugging. “You test York yet?”
“I’ve seen the fuck throw an ax and hit the bullseye,” I said, smirking at the memory of the guy wholookedlike a lumberjack acting like one.
“Still. Want to make sure he is similarly accurate with a gun.”
“Got it,” I agreed. “I’ll have an answer by the next time I see you.”
“Sounds good. Eddie’s over at the shop, but there’s always leftovers in the fridge,” he said as he made his way toward his bike.
I made my way inside, finding York alone in the kitchen, standing there holding a mug of coffee that looked like a child’s toy in his giant hand.
Again, he looked out of place in Florida. He looked like he belonged where he used to live. In the woods. Doing manual labor.
He was tall and wide, the very thick kind of fit, with brown hair and a matching beard.
Really, the only thing missing was a fucking flannel shirt.
I wouldn’t doubt that’s exactly what he wore back in New York. In Florida, though, he wore a white tee under his leather cut.
Despite being new, he was closer in age to the OG guys than the newer crew. Thirty-five? Thirty-six? Somewhere around there. Definitely older than the crazy Coast, introspective Velle, and good-time-loving Levee.
“Debating your options?” I asked as I made my way to the coffee pot to get my own cup.
“Got to come here because of Barelli,” York said.
“But you have ties up north too,” I added.
“Yeah.”
“Definition of that whole rock and hard place shit,” I said, walking over toward where the club’s pet blue and gold macaw, Mackie, was putting little beak holes in the curtain, and grabbing his foot, so he was forced to step up.
“Ffff… ffffuck… fuck—“
“Yeah, fuck you, Benny,” I said, repeating his personal catchphrase. “Eddie left you a bowl full of fruit and veg, andyou’re eating the curtains?” I added as I set him inside his cage that was almost always left open, so he could move around freely since someone was always around to keep an eye on him.
Mackie walked along his perch toward his bowl, leaning his face into the depths of it, and repeatingBenny Benny Bennyin a low grumble before he started to eat.
“Where’s everyone?” I asked, hearing no one moving around. And this wasn’t going to be the distraction I needed with only York—someone not known for his communication skills—around to talk to.
“Coast is likely a dried-out husk this morning,” York said, still seeming distracted.
“How’s that?”
“Took four chicks to bed last night. Can’t imagine he has any fluids left.”
York and Coast weren’t likely ever to be good friends. There was no bad blood between them, just vastly different personalities. If anything, York probably looked at Coast like something of an annoying little brother.
“Velle? Levee?”
“Liquor and grocery store. Eddie gave ‘em a list a drug store receipt long,” he said, shooting me a smirk.
“Another party tonight?” I asked, wondering if it was what I needed.
To drink, chat up some chicks, take one to bed.
Was that what was going to finally shake Siana from my mind?
