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“Hands down the funnest shit I’ve ever done,” Hurricane chuckled. “I’ll never forget the looks on their faces.”
“I’ve been coming up with ideas all year for a story,” Bacon admitted, excited.
“Don’t expect to take first place again this year,” Spar warned.
“What if we collaborate this time?” Hurricane said. “Tie the stories together. Twelve stories. All building up with doom and damnation.”
“With the final one the epic climax,” Shank said. “I like it.”
“We can use Slim, Roxy, and Snap again,” Bullets said, his voice low and eager.
“The gator boats are a definite must,” Patches agreed.
“And I can make that candy bacon.”
Incoming round of disgust.
Bacon laughed real big. “Don’t knock it till you try it!”
“What I wanna know,” Patches said, curious, “is who 8-Bit and Bullets picked.”
“I think they might be shy about it,” Hurricane said in a coo, getting his hand whacked away by Bullets.
“Nothing to hide,” 8-Bit said. “Catherine Boone is my pick. She’s a member of Bullets’ Hatch.”
“Holy fuck,” Patches muttered.
“You trying to start shit?” Shank wondered. “You know who that is.”
“What do you mean?” 8-Bit asked while Bishop wondered what they were talking about too.
“Bruh,” Bacon muttered like he was being dense. “That’s the sister of the dude who lost his pregnant wife in that Hurricane.”
It got quiet before 8-Bit muttered, “I didn’t realize that.”
“You should call that one off,” Traps firmly suggested. “Pick somebody else.”
“Wait,” Bishop cut in. “He can’t call it off, she’s signed up and he’s picked her.”
“He can unpick her,” Bacon warned with a sugarcoat.
“Nah, it’s good,” Patches muttered.
“She’s in your Hatch, Bullets,” 8-Bit said. “What do you know about her brother?”
“I know that Boone goes to church faithfully every Sunday and when I shake his hand, he smiles and nods while silently begging for one of my bullets between his eyes. That’s what’ I know about him.”
“Christ,” Patches mumbled.
“You got nothin’ to do with him being in that chair,” Shank said, like it’d been said fifty times. Fuck, it probably had been.
Patches leaned back, gazing at the table with a shake of his head. “Finished him off, though. Bad enough he was in that chair. He was happy, I remember that much. I saw both of them every month when I made my rounds. There was a light in his eyes. I know it’s not my fault, but I can stillhateit with everyfuckingfiber of myfuckingbeing, right?”
Patches was known for holding his cool in the hairiest situations and it wasn’t hearing him raise his voice that silenced them, it was hearing the buried pain. Bishop surely understood. Patches was escorting the pregnant wife and grandparents to land when a wind gust blew the boat right over. He’d only managed to rescue the mother and by some miracle got her to the hospital where they saved the baby but lost the mother. Patches had sold everything to build an actual hospital with equipment needed for emergencies. In her case, a breached delivery that required surgery. The entire Hoard helped with it.
Patches slid his hands over his face with a sigh. “Maybe you’ll be able to do some good,” he said to the quiet room. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”
“I will, brother,” 8-Bit said, his regret coming through.
