Page 17 of Rough

Eventually, I knew I would, that was just how I rolled.

I downed my beer, tossed the bottle, and held up my hands.

“Hold on fellas,” I said. “Let’s get one thing straight.”

Crip raised both eyebrows.

Cholo rubbed his bald head with the palm of his hand, and then took a drink of beer.

“This bitch is five foot two and maybe a buck and a nickel fully dressed. Maybe. And she’s built like a porn star. If I fuck her, and it’s a damned big if, it ain’t gonna be me showing her a good time. It’s gonna be me getting a little get back for what she did.”

“Little bitch, huh?” Cholo asked.

“She’s so small, if I shoved her full of cock she’d double in size.”

Cholo chuckled. “You’re gonna tap that ass, pull it out, and give that bitch a dirty Sanchez, huh?”

It sounded like a pretty good plan. I nodded. “Uh huh.”

He swung his open palm in my direction. I met it mid-air with mine.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said as he pulled me into him and patted me on the back. “Fuck that bitch in the ass.”

It was time to change the subject before Crip started in on me again. I motioned toward my bike. “So what do you think?”

He crouched down and looked it over. “You want the same paint?”

“Just like it was.”

“Same pegs and shit?”

“Just like it was.”

“You see the back fender? It’s got some light scratches on it.”

My bike was spotless, always. I knew where each imperfection was prior to the wreck, and there were two. After the wreck, each piece of sheet metal on it was scratched, as was a lot of the chrome.

The thought of my bike being in the shop was gut wrenching. “Yeah, I saw it,” I said through my teeth. “Fix ‘em.”

He stood up and took a drink of beer. “Two grand.”

“No shit? That’s a damned sight cheaper than the insurance company said.”

“I told you I’d hook you up, Brother,” he said. “Spook’s got most of the shit in his shop.”

“How long’s it gonna take?”

“Week.”

My heart sank. “A fucking week?”

“A day to take it apart. A day to strip it and sand it. A day to prep. Paint it the next day, and then put it back together.”

“A fucking week.” I shook my head. “When can he start?”

“He said any time.”

“You can ride that Sporty for a week,” Crip said, fighting to keep from laughing as he spoke.