Stacia Kane - Wrong Ways Down

That were what he had to talk on just then? That were what was so fucking important? Getting inside some dame? He stood there staring probably longer than he ought, because what the fuck he were supposed to say?

Cepting for “No,” which he said as soon’s he found his tongue again.

Roley’s brows drew together. Suddenly he face didn’t look so open and friendly no more; he looked … weaselly. Ratlike. “C’mon, Terrible, gimme a fuckin break here. Tryna fuck this dame, figuring maybe be my fuckin chance. Gots other dudes you can put onna street that night, can—”

“Other dudes been workin longer. You ain’t—”

“Other dudes ain’t near family with Bump,” Roley said. Interrupted him to say. Roley fucking interrupted him. Shitty little asshole.

But shitty little asshole who were true thing closer to Bump than most new ones, or leastaways, were close to somebody Bump wanted kept happy. Were Terrible to do what he wanted to do—which was knock Roley to the floor—it might make Lacey unhappy, which would be an unfairness to Bump. Bump would understand once he heard why, but still. And Bump had he a bigger tolerance for assholes than Terrible did, specially when he were getting laid from it.

So instead of planting his fist in Roley’s face he narrowed his eyes. “You working the night. Can fuck her some other time.”

“Ain’t will be able to get she so drunk some other time, aye?” Roley smiled when he said it, like it were a joke, but his eyes had the look of a junkie whose stash had just been stolen.

Then he voice changed. Turned all soft and confidential, like he were Terrible’s fucking friend or some shit. “C’mon, Terrible. Been wanting this dame ages now. You knowing what that one’s like, aye? Ain’t you ever had a dame you wanted? How bout that Churchwitch? Were she alla sudden saying she wanted you, ain’t you would wanna skip working?”

Terrible stopped himself. Barely. Just barely stopped himself reaching out and introducing Roley to a whole new world of pain. And good thing, too, causen doing that would be admitting Roley were right—would be letting Roley know he were right. Which he was. If Chess said she wanted him … he couldn’t think of a thing he wouldn’t skip for that. Not a single fucking thing.

Weren’t Roley’s business, though. “Ain’t knowing what the fuck you talkin on. Or why. You work the night.”

“Guessing I gotta ask Bump.”

Fuck, how he wanted to punch Roley. Wanted it so bad he could hardly think, that dull mist creeping through his head.

He forced himself to shrug, to keep looking Roley right in the eye and keep his face and voice calm. “Aye, you go ahead then. Whatany you want.”

Just like he’d thought, Roley ain’t looked happy with that. Dumbshit thought talking to Bump were a threat?

He oughta enjoy it while it were lasting, causen Bump might still want Lacey around, but Terrible guessed she had maybe a couple months left on the outside. And when she were gone, so would Roley be. Terrible would make real fucking certain on that one.

Roley’s gaze fell. “Hey, just askin, is all, aye? Ain’t no need to be lookin so hard at me. Only saying. Sucks to work the night, were thinking maybe you could do me a benefit. Ain’t meant nothin by it. Just … ain’t so good with people alla time, I ain’t, guessing.” He shrugged with his hands in his pockets. “Try to be, but I just ain’t. People ain’t seeming to like me much.”

And instead of guessing on why they ain’t liked him and trying not to be an asshole, Roley were just gonna fucking whine on it. “Sometimes best to be keeping yon mouth shut, dig, you knowing people take you wrong ways. You an me ain’t friends.”

Roley nodded. His head were down so Terrible couldn’t see his eyes, but he had the feeling iffen he could they’d be pissed more than sorry.

“Got any else you needing?”

Roley shook his head.

“See you on the later, then.” He left Roley there and headed for the door, grabbing Amy along the way. The cold blast of air helped his temper some but ain’t done much else.

Amy sucked in a breath next to him and hugged herself. “Ain’t like he, I ain’t.”

“Aye?” He put his arm back around her shoulders, pulled her tighter to help her keep warm. “Why come?”

She shrugged. “Come sit down, an askin on you, but ain’t look in my face. Starin down my dress, he were, and kept putting he hand on my leg. Pervy, dig? Like he thinking I just a dame an be he right touchin me.”

That heat again, hotter and stronger in he chest. He stopped walking. Touching Amy like that, looking at her like that? No. He started to turn back toward the bar. Oughta at least say more to Roley, he ought, let him know how just like Chess weren’t he business, so Amy weren’t—

Amy grabbed him. “Nay, let’s go. Cold, me. Wanna get home, aye? Ain’t so big a deal, Terrible, he just an asshole. Ain’t like he the first tried touchin me or getting he a peek in.”

Terrible hesitated. Ain’t wanted to make Amy cold, but …

She tugged his arm, teetering a little on her big platform shoes as she tried to pull him down the sidewalk. “C’mon. You wanna get you upset some other dude tried lookin at me, take me home show me how much. Aye? Let’s us go on.”

The doorway were only ten feet or so behind. Wouldn’t take he a minute to get back in there.

But Amy were smiling at him, like she’d forgotten all about how she’d been unhappy earlier. He sure weren’t gonna fuck that up by explaining it weren’t about being jealous or some shit—he weren’t—just that by doing that to her Roley had been challenging him. Just like he saying on Chess, just like he saying he were gonna chatter with Bump. All Roley trying him.

Not to mention he ain’t liked men pulling that kinda shit with any dames.

But dealing with Roley weren’t something he had to do that minute, neither. Weren’t like Roley wouldn’t be around the next day or the day after. No emergency or aught like that.

And he couldn’t deny that taking Amy home sounded good. Two ways he’d found to calm heself down: hitting were one, and the other was what she was clearly inviting him to do.

So he pushed thoughts of Roley, Slick, the whores, and especially Chess outta he mind, and headed for the Chevelle.

SHARP-EYE BEN WEREN'T answering he door, but Terrible knew he were inside; he’d been watching for over an hour, and he’d seen Ben go in not two minutes afore. Couldn’t wait longer than that, causen Ben probably scored while he were out, and iffen Terrible gave him long enough to shoot up he’d be too juiced to be any use at all.

He gave one more knock, banging the door hard. No answer. Right, then. Ben’s own fucking fault. He stepped back and kicked the door, hard, so it bulged and splintered at the frame. “Ben! Open the fuck up.”

No answer. He kicked the door again. This time a couple shards of wood broke off; the door cracked down the middle but ain’t split. “Last chance, Ben. I gotta break you door, I ain’t be happy, dig?”

After a second Ben’s voice came thin through the destroyed wood. “Aye, just a—just gimme one, aye, just a hold-on one minute.”

Was Ben tryna climb out a window, or get that spike in his arm before he had to talk? Fuck that. Terrible gave the door a final kick; it broke down and across, the parts with hinges falling open and the bottom falling to the floor.

Ben shrieked. Tryna get the needle in, he were; already had heself tied off. Terrible crossed the floor in three steps, used his open right hand to smack Ben’s face while yanking the needle away with his left. He held it over his head. “Where the money?”