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He nodded.
He would do it, too. I knew he would. The fucker wasn’t afraid of anything.
“Dumb fuck,” Crow muttered.
“Next,” I said, awaiting an idea that wasn’t a suicide mission.
“What about Donny B?” Crow suggested. “He’s still supplying, I think.”
“Yeah, but his bud’s hit or miss. We’d have to sample the fuck out of it first,” Joker responded.
I nodded. “Then we sample it first. We gotta do what we gotta do until Jonah’s back on the streets.”
“I say this time next year, we have our own shit. We need property,” Crow said.
“You talking about growing? Do you have any idea how long that could take?” I asked. “Plus, we would have to go to fucking Mexico to get the rest of the good shit. Fuck that. I’m not trying to get arrested over there. Do you know what they do to white boys in Mexican prisons?”
Joker grinned. “Sounds fun. Let’s do it.”
I shook my head, and Crow shrugged. “We have all the time in the world, bro, and the Mexico shit can be handled easily enough.”
He wasn’t wrong. We could make more money if we produced our bud or went straight to the source.
Tori returned with our food just as we finished the conversation. Not that we were hiding it. Everyone knew we were dealers.
“Did you spit in my eggs?” Joker asked when she set his plate in front of him.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she looked down at him like he was stupid before she reached back, got my plate of food, and set it in front of me.
“Can I get you guys anything else?” she asked, setting Crow’s plate down for him.
Joker reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her from standing completely. She gasped, and I stiffened, ready to protect her against the man I trusted more than anyone else.
“Yeah,” he said, his icy eyes cutting through her. “You can go the fuck away.”
She yanked her arm free before she shook her head and walked away. Thankfully, for the rest of our time there, we were served by our usual server. Still, I left a hefty tip, hoping she would share it with Tori.
THAT NIGHT, we called our boy Donny B over. Joker and I had known him since our days on the streets. He was a trip to hang out with, but Crow was always wary of him, so we never pulled him in on anything profound. If we ever decided to invite another dude into the Sons, it wouldn’t be him even though Joker and I felt he was okay.
“What’s up?” he asked when he entered the garage.
The three of us were outside fucking with our bikes and tinkering in the garage. The weekend was coming, and we planned on making some backup cash racing in case Jonah got sentenced to hard time. Jonah had pull, especially regarding the Atlanta PD, but we weren’t dumb enough not to have a backup plan in case shit blew up in his face.
“Yo, man, how’s it hanging?” Joker asked, bumping knuckles with Donny B.
“Low and to the left. What’re y’all getting into?”
Crow looked at me, prompting me to start the discussion. “Nothing much. I'm just looking for some smoke. You holding?” I asked.
“Yeah, I heard Jonah got popped. Fucking Border Lords and their bullshit. I got a little something. How much are you thinking?”
We bought an ounce of his best shit and sampled the fuck out of it over the next two days. It wasn’t up to par with Jonah’s bud, but it would do until we figured out our next move. So we set the pickup with Donny B before our weekend kicked off, rushing to get it weighed, separated, and ready for Friday’s party when most of our buyers would be at the house.
The Strip was crowded as fuck when we finally stepped on the scene. The races had already started, but we knew everyone wanted to race us and weren’t in any rush to get there before the first gunshot sounded. Our neons lit the way as we entered the crowd and parked in our favorite spot.
Stryker’s truck was parked beside us, a group of women sitting in the back drinking and smoking up Stryker’s stash. He didn’t care. He would buy more, which meant more money in our pockets. Donny B’s car was parked next to Stryker, and he stood out front, bullshitting with a few regulars.
It seemed everyone was there, and the energy levels were high. I pushed the kickstand down and tugged my shirt off. It was hot as hell, and I hated the feeling of my shirt sticking to my skin. The blunt I had stuck behind my ear was dry and cracking, so I licked it before I lit it and took a brutal hit.
