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Weasel’s eyes bugged out. “Okay – wow – that’s great, that’s great!”
I smiled, and let Weasel bathe in the golden glow of my generosity.
What the hell. I coulda promised him a million bucks; I wouldn’t be paying either one of them a fuckin’ dollar, anyway.
33
Fiona
“Your buddy Lou’s in tight with the cops, right? One of ‘em musta tipped him off about Fee.”
Sid’s explanation made perfect sense.
Shit.
When I first got to Richards, I’d worried about the cops blowing my cover, which would prevent me from getting closer to the Midnight Riders. I’d never even considered that Lou might get the information and use it stealthily, selectively, as a weapon.
“But how would they know about Fiona?” Jack asked, confused.
My stomach churned with fear as I spoke. “Because I called them every day for months about Ali’s murder.”
Jack stared at me. I couldn’t look at him.
“You tried to go undercover when the entire fucking police department knew who you were?!”
“I didn’t know that Lou was that close to them,” I said miserably. “And I thought if I got busted – ”
“It was just going to be you that paid the price,” Jack seethed. “Not me.”
“…yeah.”
Jack looked away. I could almost hear his blood boiling.
“This ain’t couples therapy, you two,” Sid snapped. “I charge a thousand an hour for that. Now, Easy Rider – you wanna pout over spilt milk, or you wanna put your big boy panties on and let’s get back to work?”
Jack looked at Sid like he wanted to kill him. “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me like that, old man.”
“Friend Prices don’t include me holdin’ your hand, kid. You want me to pat your head and tell you ‘Poor baby,’ then fuckin’ pay me. Otherwise, there’s the door. Now – are we gettin’ back to work, or do you wanna sulk some more?”
Jack still looked like he wanted to kill Sid – but this time he answered, “Back to work.”
“Alright, then. Now – ”
“There’s something else I’ve got to say,” I said, my voice low and quiet.
Jack turned towards me again, eyes blazing, expecting another outrage.
Unfortunately, I was about to give it to him.
“Jesus, what now?” Sid groaned. “Every time I get this show back on the road, you gotta bust out another revelation. It’s like the fuckin’ Jerry Springer show in here.”
“Sid,” I warned him.
“Fine, spill your guts,” Sid said, flapping a hand at me dismissively.
“What is it?” Jack asked.
“…you told me that night, before it all happened, that if I was with the FBI or the DEA, just to leave town.”
