Page 33 of Making His Bones

Gray: No, I haven’t. Can you send my wingsuit? You have my address.

Brett: Yeah, no problem. But Archie keeps talking about this Ron Howard feature they want you for! Didn’t he tell you that?

Actually, he hadn’t. Or, he had, but I hadn’t read it, had just deleted the entire thread. This was shocking news. Ron Howard was big-time. I had to bite.

Gray: How big of a part?

Brett: Dood! It’s a war movie!

As if that explained it all. He typed nothing else.

I got tired of waiting for him, so I texted, Gray: Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m over here, and the parts are over there. I have a new life here, a new family. Can you send me that squirrel suit ASAP?

I didn’t see Brett’s response until much later, when I was riding home.

Brett: Sure enough. Dood! What family?

What family, indeed. I smiled secretly with pride, and my cock swelled a little thinking of Elektra.

It wasn’t just the Bare Bones who were my new family.

N

Elektra

I felt horrible, gossiping behind Gray’s back like this, but it was my only option.

“So what was his mother like?”

Unity screwed up her gorgeous, heavy face and looked to the stars.

She was inked up to her neck like a turtleneck sweater, but in the broiling August weather she wore only a muscle shirt, her bra straps showing unapologetically. She was a cannabusiness spokesmodel and the owner of a dog training and boarding facility out on Mescal Mesa. I was meeting all types in Pure and Easy.

“You know, Carol also worked for Tony Tormenta, as I recall. He’s the guy who—“

“Was turned into a dartboard by the Bare Bones.”

Unity guffawed, seemingly glad I’d figured it out. “Yes,” she said, her eyes watery. It seemed that she was always stoned, all glassy-eyed and happy. She had metal plugs in her earlobes and ink of an anchor and a bluebird on her chest in azure shades. She was the Old Lady of a pilot and dog lover named Tanner, currently going to med school to be a neurologist. “Exactly. No one has seen Carol around for a bunch of years. When her husband was killed in that off-roading accident, she seemed to vanish.”

I snorted skeptically. I was skeptical of everything these days. “As if. You don’t think they were both offed by Tormenta?”

Almost as a habit, Unity looked from side to side with caution. She spoke in a hush. “Don’t say that aloud.”

“But Tormenta is dead.”

“Yes, but . . . There are many other men of his ilk loitering around.”

I liked that she would say “ilk.” Casually, I added as an afterthought, “And poor Gray. That’s why he knows Knoxie so well? Because he basically had to raise himself, and Knoxie was an older brother figure, so I heard.”

“Right,” said Unity, eyes shining again, her boobs nearly dipping into her cup of tea. We were at a little tourist place about a mile down Bargain Boulevard, away from the action, from the Missing Ink and all the shops that seemed to be money laundering fronts for the motorcycle club. “Knoxie’s like fifteen years older than me, but Gray is only about seven, so I hung out a bit with him while trying to escape my abusive household. We’d smoke weed.”

“Have you kept in touch with him at all?”

“Not really through the years, but since he’s been back, for sure. We’ve caught up. So, spill, girl. What is it you want to know about your future ex-husband?”

I was mortified that she’d be so obvious about my intent. I held out splayed hands. “Oh, please don’t tell Gray I was asking about him!” I cried. “I’d absolutely die. But I figured meeting face to face with you was better than texting.”

Unity waved me away, the picture of calm. “No big, woman. I can dig you, falling for him. He’s Africa hot. What do you want to know?”