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Orson sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just go around biting the tweakers, Abby. They’re our bread and butter.”
My eyebrow rose skeptically. “Frankie is your bread and butter?” I mused.
My boss scowled, and I again dropped my eyes.
“You know what I mean, Abby. You have to control yourself. If word gets out that we’re attacking our customers, no one will come to us for product.”
My eyes narrowed slightly. The sentiment was oddly logical for Orson, but I nodded in agreement.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Should I go make peace with him? Maybe give him a fix or something?”
“What?! Fuck no!” Orson snorted. “Just watch yourself going forward.”
I smothered a smirk and nodded again. “Noted, Boss.”
I stood as the sorter finished zipping up my backpack, sliding it back toward me. Grabbing for it, I put it onto my shoulders and excused myself from the warehouse to begin my day’s deliveries.
“You should come by tonight, Abby,” Orson called out as I headed toward the door. “Etta could use the company.”
I glanced at him and offered him a half smile.
“I’ll stop by for a bit,” I promised. I could do with the company myself. Being holed up by myself for another night with my own thoughts wasn’t exactly appealing.
“Good. I’ll grill up some steaks.”
I curled my fingers around the straps of the backpack and headed into the morning light. A grayness had fallen over Pario City, the promise of rain hanging over us, but it held off as I shifted and started my usual mid-week run.
It was my preference to begin on the outskirts, hitting the weird little outposts and biker bars on the fringes of the city before working my way inside. That way, I was closer to home before dark.
But today, I worked backward for some reason, stopping at the cathouses and strip clubs to leave the neatly clumped packages of stow and churl as ordered, carefully keeping the cash in a separate, locked pencil case at the bottom of the knapsack as I stalked through town on my paws.
By mid-afternoon, I had two deliveries left to go, but I was starving and decided to take a break at Hammer’s Bar as I made my second-to-last stop.
Morphing back into my human form, I ambled in through the front door, startling Chuckie at the bar.
“Don’t you usually come through the back?” he asked, wiping down the counter in front of me.
I dropped my fingers onto the counter, and he produced a beer without question.
“I’m hungry.”
“Stella is doing up a killer colcannon today. Interested?”
I shrugged indifferently, falling back onto the winged stool to take in the mostly empty biker bar.
“Got the stuff?” Chuckie asked when he returned from submitting my order, an envelope in hand.
Here, there was no need for discretion or secrecy. The law didn’t venture much through Pario City as a rule, and even less so on the outskirts where the Hammer sat.
I plunked the goods directly onto the counter and let Chuckie take his cut, accepting my payment before his mate swept through the back, a steaming bowl in her hand.
“Did that guy leave?” Stella asked, barely acknowledging me as she dropped the cabbage and cheese concoction in front of my face.
There wasn’t nearly enough meat in it for my liking, but I didn’t complain. The Hammer wasn’t known for its culinary style.
“Yeah, babe,” Chuckie grumbled, snatching up the stow and dropping it behind the counter. “He wasn’t bothering nobody.”
“He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t right,” Stella insisted.
