AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Bryson cleared his throat. “Anyway, there’s a school bus blocking the back alley. We can’t have that in case of a fire or medical emergency.”
“A what?” He must have misunderstood.
“Schooooool buuuuuus,” Bryson dragged out. “Guess you rode on one of the short ones.”
Dodge dipped his chin and stared at the pig. “You sayin’ I’m slow?”
“I’m not saying you are, but I’m thinking you’re not too quick.”
“Asshole.”
Marc Bryson grinned and shrugged. “How did those windows taste?”
“Mark,” Leah scolded and whacked her hubby in the arm.
“After you licked them, they tasted pretty damn clean,” Dodge told him.
“Anyway, it has to be moved. So, get ‘er done.” Bryson tapped his finger on the bar in emphasis.
“The sooner the better, Dodge,” Leah added with her signature smile. Warm and friendly unless you crossed her, then that taser could be drawn quicker than shit. She’d only smile again once you were flat on your back on the pavement trying not to shit your pants.
“Gotcha, Leah.”
Bryson made a face when Dodge called his wife by her first name. Leah tugged on his arm. “We’ll swing back in about fifteen. Make sure it’s gone.”
Dodge didn’t respond but watched both pigs leave. Luckily for them, Scar wasn’t working the door tonight since it was a typical slow hump day. Instead, it was the prospect’s night to sit watch on Hillbilly Hill to keep an eye on what the Shirleys were up to.
The answer was easy. No fucking good.
“Gonna run out back and see what the fuck’s goin’ on,” he called out to Micah, his newest bartender. He was a bit young but worked his ass off. “Keep an eye on shit.”
Micah gave him a chin lift and continued to dry pint glasses with a dish towel.
Dodge patted his cut to make sure he had his tin and a lighter, then headed toward the rear of Pete’s. He accompanied every damn step in that direction with a muttered curse since his fear was confirmed. That chick last night was trouble.
Once he shoved open the rear door, the stinky-ass diesel smell of a school bus definitely blocking the alley filled his nostrils.
Fuckin’ son of a bitch.
The bus was painted in black primer and “The Synners” was spray-painted graffiti-style along the side. The windows were all spray-painted black. He guessed for privacy.
He’d seen a couple of converted school buses before, but this one… If the inside looked anything like the outside… He grimaced.
Shaking his head, he pulled a hand-rolled from the metal container he stored them in and tucked it between his lips. With a flick of the Bic, he lit it, sucked in two lungs full of smoke, then slowly blew it out and up into the frigid December air.
He slowly walked along the skoolie that had to be about thirty-five feet long to where one of the custom-made storage compartments under the bus was wide open and two dudes were pulling out what looked like the shit a band would need.
Two dudes. He sucked on his teeth for a second before taking another pull from his cigarette.
Boyfriends of the band members?
He didn’t give a shit. He only cared about their rig totally blocking the alley.
“Yo,” he said as he walked behind them and stood watching them pull out guitar cases, pieces of a drum set and whatever else the band needed to play. Neither guy stopped what they were doing, so he said it again, this time a lot louder. “Yo!”
They finished finagling a bass drum out of the tight area and both straightened.
“Yo,” one of them answered.
“Hurry up and get that shit unloaded and move the bus. Otherwise, the pigs are gonna get it towed. And,” he let his gaze roll over the bus before doing the same to them, “doubtin’ you can afford that bill.”
“We’re planning on it. Just need to finish unloading our shit.”
“Well, get it done faster. You were supposed to be set up a half-hour ago.”
One nodded and returned to unload more shit. The other, the one with long dark hair pulled back in a short ponytail, put his hands on his hips and faced Dodge. “Are you the manager?”
“In the flesh.”
“Thanks for giving us a shot.”
“Gonna revoke that shot if you don’t hurry the fuck up. The band needs to get set up and warmed up before eight.”
The man with shaggy blond hair pulled a microphone stand out of the storage area and glanced at his phone. “Fuck.”
Dodge jerked his chin toward the bus. “The girls in there gettin’ ready?”
The man lifted his eyes from his phone and frowned. “Yeah. Sure.”
Dodge nodded. “‘Kay. Get your shit together and then move this hunk of junk.”
Ponytail guy squinted at him. “Do you know where we can park it?”
“Around the corner. Fifth Street Church. They got a decent-sized lot and it’ll be empty at this time of night.”
