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“Portia,” Nick offered.
“Nick’s daughter, Portia.” They shot the whiskey, then all eyes trained on Nick.
“I wish I could tell you more, but it seems her mother thought it would be a good idea to keep her away from me.”
Cobra leaned to Nick. “I’m assuming the mother is Johnny Russo’s wife, Marie.”
Cobra putting her in those terms was like a kick in the teeth. “Her real name, or I should say, the name I know her as is, Cheryl Benson. Since then she changed her name, and married Russo.” He was rambling and he knew he was rambling, but he didn’t really give a fuck. “And here’s another fucked up piece of the puzzle. She’s also Frank Barnett’s daughter.”
“Holy shit.” Joker pointed to Nick’s empty glass. “Fill that fucker up and keep them coming.”
“Shit,” Cobra hissed. “He’s gonna need more than whiskey.”
“When did you find out about your daughter?” Rattler reached below the bar, pulled out a battered silver cigarette case, and flipped it open revealing four perfectly rolled joints.
“Yesterday.” Nick traced his finger around the rim of the glass. “She looks just like me.”
“Poor kid.” Rattler pulled a goofy face and the others glared at him. “I thought we needed a little comic relief.”
Cobra jerked his chin at Nick. “Does he fuckin’ look like he wants jokes?”
Rattler flicked his lighter, drew deep on the joint, then passed to Nick. “Try this. Serpent’s finest. Best fuckin’ weed in Southern Nevada.”
Nick pinched the lit smoke between fingers. Couldn’t hurt.
“What’re you gonna do?” Joker asked.
Nick sucked in the smoke, held it, then exhaled. “Haven’t figured that part out yet, but first I’m getting her away from Russo.”
“And you and Cheryl?” Cobra asked.
“Me and Cheryl nothing. We’re over.” The two words stuck in his throat so he drew in more smoke before he passed it to Joker.
“Does she know about this?” Joker said around a cloud of smoke.
“As of an hour ago, she sure the fuck does.”
The four men stared at him like he was nuts.
Nick spun around to face them. “What?”
“From what Samson says, you and her had a thing back in the day, and now you got a kid, so?—”
“A kid she kept from me for ten fuckin’ years.” Nick’s heartbeat amped up. “Now she expects me to just roll over and accept it. And for the record, Samson should keep his thoughts to himself.”
Rattler jerked his chin at the smoke. “I thought that shit was supposed to chill you out.”
“Is she gonna stay with Russo?”
“I don’t know.” Nick slammed his hand on the bar. “As long as I get my daughter outta there, I don’t give a fuck.”
Cobra and Joker exchanged a look calling bullshit.
“You don’t believe me?” Nick challenged.
“Nope.” Cobra twisted his lips into an annoying smirk. “Every one of us here said the same fuckin’ thing at one time or another about the women we now call our old ladies.”
“Maybe it’s different in the biker world, but where I come from, when a woman lies and keeps your kid from you, she gets kicked to the curb.” Nick snatched the joint from Joker, sucked up two more drags, then chased it with a shot of Jack.
