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His middle finger comes up and I roll my eyes as he snorts into the other nostril.
“Fuck, that’s better.” He nods at me, then lays his head back on the red leather booth as he watches a blonde sway around the pole.
“I’ve got to cancel that appointment. I have to be at your patching-in ceremony tonight.” He says all this as he grabs for the bottle.
“Edge?” his voice is rough.
I stop testing the neon lights to look at him.
“I’m not father material. I mean, what the fuck?” I nod. He rolls his head back to stare up at the ceiling and seems to find the new strobe lights fascinating.
I’ve never seen him like this. David is a champion—as in he can fuck and do drugs all night and then get up and repeat it. But this Debbie thing is not good.
He’s not exaggerating; there’s something wrong with her.
I can get on board with wanting to keep an eye on your man. But she’s not right. Debbie was a mistake and now she’s determined to become his old lady.
Jesus, that could have been me. I can’t blame him for hiding out for days.
Chuckie had to call a private meeting to tell him to get his shit together. He’s our historian, and he needs to be documenting the club’s business, not hiding.
If David’s situation is any indication, that old saying When you play you pay is a lesson we all should learn from.
At least the club is coming along. I had a whole new sound system installed and painters come in and patch the walls. The place smells better too. It still needs new floors and plumbing, but one step at a time.
As long as we don’t get shut down by the ABC, I’m rolling with it. So far, the Dream Room is kicking ass. I glance down at David who looks to be trying to text.
We’re making money even with David falling apart. The Disciples are using it as a prime spot to launder chunks of money. It goes in one door and out the other.
“I’m happy for you, brother.” He slurs the brother part as he keeps typing, and I wonder if he’s even hitting the right letters.
“You and Dolly are happy.” He snickers and raises his hips to pocket his phone, then slumps back and slams his fist on the table causing a couple of bottles to fall. “Edge and Dolly, man. I’m happy for you.” He starts repeating himself.
“Okay, man.” I cut off his Edge and Dolly chant. “Let’s get you to the office and a nap.” We opened a little while ago, but he needs to sleep this shit off. I don’t want to have to deal with Debbie today, blaming me and the club for David checking out.
He looks at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language. I sigh and rub the back of my neck. I feel for him, but he’s got to pull himself out of this, even if it’s only for his kid’s sake.
“David, it’s gonna be fine, brother.” I sling his arm around my shoulder and pull his sloppy ass up.
“I’m proud of you,” he grumbles.
The DJ starts spinning “Cherry Pie” by Warrant. A washed-up redhead with not very good moves takes the stage. Even with the new lights I had the electrician install, she looks to be in about the same shape as David.
“Who is this girl? She’s a fucking mess.” I stop to watch her attempt to make a full twirl, her eyes almost shut.
David leans on my shoulder as he squints at the stage. “Georgia Peach.” He smiles and tries to point. “Or maybe Diamond?”
“Fuck, man. I rarely say this because I pride myself on not judging, but get it together.” I start to drag him to the office.
He pulls back and straightens. “I can walk.” Swaying, he grabs my chest. “Dolly, she makes you happy. She doesn’t suck the very life out of you?”
I almost say she has, and it’s always in the back of my mind. These last three months have been good. But I’m always waiting for the shoe to drop, for something bad to happen and have her taken from me. It’s morbid and a shitty way to live.
“Get some rest.” I kick open the door to our black office. This area hasn’t been painted yet, so it’s all black. I kind of like it though. Maybe I’ll keep it. We’ve already nicknamed it the Black Hole.
Maneuvering David close to the leather couch, I let gravity bring him down. He grunts out a fuck, then closes his eyes and moans as if he’s in pain but goes silent.
Despite two days of cocaine, the Disciples drug, and booze, even the mightiest need sleep at some point. “I got nothing, Edge… nothing but a fucked-up bitch who is trying to ruin my life,” he mutters and starts to snore.
