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Clive went back inside.
“What are you doing?” Marv asked.
“Establishing I don’t take any shit.”
“That won’t help us get in.”
“No it won’t, but it will help us if we do.”
“I don’t know.”
“Plus, it’s not an act. I don’t take any shit.”
Marv smiled. “I always figured Mal like you for your looks, but I might have been wrong. He may have dug your attitude.”
“I’d like to think it was both.”
The door opened and Clive stepped out.
“Keep that purse zipped up and I don’t think we’ll have any problems,” Clive told her.
Margot zipped up her purse.
Clive went inside but left the door open. Margot and Marv followed.
While the outside looked like the place could have been abandoned years ago, much like the clubhouse, the inside looked like something from a model home, with wood floors, modern furniture, and a television that took up most of an entire wall. Manny may not have put his ill-gotten gain into real estate, but he hadn’t skimped on the interior design.
Manny was a mountain of a man who seemed too big for the chair he was sitting in. He had Clive’s clean-shaven head and a jet black goatee long enough the braided end went all the way to his chest. Like all the Devil’s Racers, he wore his vest along with a t-shirt and blue jeans. Even though they were indoors, Manny added a pair of mirrored sunglasses to his ensemble.
In the corner of the room, another vest and blue jeans guy leaned against the wall and kept an eye on everybody. Margot had a feeling he was the one to watch out for. Clive seemed more like the kind of guy they send out to see if anybody’s shooting; him getting shot wouldn’t be that much of a tragedy.
“So,” Manny said as he looked Margot over, “you’re Mal’s bitch.”
“I’m nobody's bitch.”
Manny laughed. “Clive said you had an attitude.”
Margot didn’t reply.
Manny motioned to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”
Margot sat down.
“I don’t suppose you came here to tell me why your boyfriend didn’t show up for our sit-down?”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m looking for Mal. He’s not the type to flake on a meeting, especially with me.”
“He stood you up too?”
“Yeah.”
Manny stroked his goatee for a second before he said, “I suppose he doesn’t do that often.”
“Never.”
