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CHAPTERSIX
Trigger
I’m in Hangman’s office cleaning my nails with my favourite knife. I’m fastidious that way, especially after a skinnin’. I’m bored, restless and in need of a fuck, but every time I close my eyes, I see the woman from the mall. I gotta find her soon or my balls will drop off.
Hangman and I are shooting the shit about nothin’ in particular when Zero and Crank knock on the doorframe. We both turn our heads in their direction with varying degrees of curiosity. It ain’t often the prospects come straight to Hangman. I grin to my inner self. Whatever happens next is gonna relieve some of my boredom.
“What the fuck do you want?” Hangman says. He sounds hostile, but he’s as curious as I am.
Zero clears his throat. “Reaper asked us to stop by the new business on Front Street and put the squeeze on the vet.”
“She’s a woman,” Crank interrupts.
Hangman shrugs. “I know. She the owner?”
“Yeah,” Zero nods.
“It makes no difference if she’s a broad. Get to the point.”
“Uhm. The woman,” Crank starts.
“Dr. Whittaker,” Zero clarifies.
Crank turns to Zero. “What was her first name again?”
“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter!” Hangman’s getting impatient.
“Right,” Zero replies with a nod. “She thinks the insurance should be based on net income.”
I snigger, no longer bored. “Does she now?”
“She thinks she fuckin’ makes the rules?” Hangman snarls looking between the prospects and me.
Crank quickly comes to her defence. “No. She was very nice. She was just makin’ a point.”
Zero adds, “She showed us her books.”
“Account books,” Crank interrupts.
“Yeah. Anyway, she’s in the red.”
“So the fuck what?” I say, mirroring Hangman’s growing impatience.
Crank shifts uncomfortably. “Well she said we should pay her until she’s in the black.”
My head swims at the conversation. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
Zero seems to have a death wish. “It makes sense though, doesn’t it? Like we don’t want her business to go under, so we shouldn’t make her spend money she don’t have.”
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me!” Hangman sputters. He looks at me. “Where the fuck are Reaper and Eight?”
I shrug. “I ain’t their babysitter.”
Maybe those weren’t the right words to use because Hangman goes ballistic. “I got two fuckin’ useless prospects and a jackass who thinks he’s funny.”
I try a frown on for size, but I know it’s a smirking frown. “I don’t think I’m funny—” I start.
“Good thing you don’t think it because you’re gonna fuckin’ go read the riot act to that fuckin’ vet.”
