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Rocky and I turn to him. “Got a thorn in your paw, asshole?” I say. “Figaro’s a friend.”
Red furrows his forehead and for a moment, I think I’m gonna have to find a way to knock him on his ass. “I’m being the bad guy,” he pouts. “I never get to do that.”
Rocky sighs as he steps back from Figaro. “Fine.” To Figaro, he says, “You don’t mind takin’ a punch, do you?” He motions to Red. “If we don’t let him do it, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Even in the shadows, I can see the blood drain from Figaro’s face as he stares up at Red. “Yes! Yes, I do mind taking a punch!” He slides his eyes towards me as if I’m the sane one. “What do you want? Anything. Just keep him away from me.”
Rocky turns to Red. “You okay with waiting? We can find someone else to beat up after.”
Red narrows his eyes. “I want to beat this fuck up, not some other guy.”
“Come on, buddy. Figaro’s like chewing on a chihuahua. He ain’t even a challenge.”
Figaro nods his head. “Yeah. Exactly. No challenge. One punch and I’d be out.”
Rocky winks at me. “He’s a weasel, Red. We’ll find a pit bull for you.”
I give Red a shove to get him out of our space. “Enough with the bad guy act, Red. I gotta get back to Evanee.” What a fuckin’ night for him to assert himself.
He looks down at my hand, then up into my eyes. “Not an act, asshole. You shits are still treating me like I’m a prospect.”
“Jesus,” Rocky says as he runs a hand through his beard. “Can we talk about this back at the clubhouse?”
“Hey!” Red shouts as he shoves his way between us, sending Rocky to his ass, and grabbing Figaro, who’s trying to slip away. “You fucking stay where you are until this discussion is over.” He shakes the poor guy a few times then slams him up against the wall.
“C’mon!” I snarl at Red as Figaro groans, his knees buckling. “I ain’t got time for your PMS.”
Back on his feet, Rocky manhandles Red off Figaro with several grunts.
I pull a wad of C-notes from my pocket and count off twenty. “There’s another $2k if you get it done.”
Figaro pushes the money away. “Whatever you want, man, I’m not doing it.”
I smirk as I shove the bills in his shirt pocket. “You wanna tell big Red over there?”
I twist my head to see Rocky piggybacking Red, his arms choke holding his neck, his feet around the giant’s stomach.
“Fuckin’ cocksucker,” Rocky snarls as he sucks in a lungful of air.
“You’re a dead man, you fucker!” Red roars as he twists and turns like a wild stallion.
“What do you want?” Figaro whispers, his eyes darting between me and the circus goin’ on behind me.
I smirk at the little shit. “Want you to put word out that the Jury has hard evidence on a couple of Feebs who did a journalist.”
“Jesus,” Figaro unaccustomedly swears. “You want me dead?”
“You ain’t gonna get dead,” Rocky snarls. He’s on his ass on the ground glaring up at Red. “It’s a fucking rumour. Tell someone with a big mouth or a couple of someones. It’s that easy.”
Red snaps his teeth at Rocky and goes to kick him in the ribs.
Rocky grabs Red around the ankle and pulls his feet out from under him. Red goes down like a sack of bricks, but that don’t stop him from taking Rocky down with him.
“Fuckin’ clowns,” I mutter as I return my attention to Figaro. “We wanna smoke out the assholes. They’re not gonna come after you. It’s us they’ll be looking for.”
Figaro’s lips turn down. “How will they know it’s you?”
Red, back on his feet, shoves me out of the way. “Tell everyone it’s us, asshole,” he snarls. “Jesus, do we gotta do all your thinkin’ for you?”
