Page 31 of Dirty Like Jude
In retrospect, there was no fucking way, if I didn’t have my head so far up my own ass over a woman I was stupidly obsessed with, who was fucking every dude I’d ever met—other than, you know, me—I never, ever would’ve pulled into that fucking gas stationlot.
For a creamsoda.
All I wanted was a creamsoda.
Ninety-nine percent of the time I ate well, treated my body as something of a temple, avoided junk food. I didn’t drink to excess or smoke pot to excess or use otherdrugs.
But when I was alone and I was agitated about something—like really fucking agitated—cream soda was my vice. I tried not to let my brother or Jesse or anyone else who knew me too well see me drinking it, because that meant they knew I was in a weakstate.
And I was in a weak-assstate.
I never should’ve been so distracted, over a woman who wasn’t mine and a fucking cream soda craving, of all things, that I didn’t even notice the sketchy-as-fuck van pulling into the lot right behind me—until it was too late. Until it had pulled up alongside me, blocking me from the rest of the gas station, and the first guy had already walked right the fuck up tome.
And another one shoved something hard and cold into my leftkidney.
If it was a gun, it was totally fucking unnecessary. Especially since there were three of them and the dude standing right in front of me was none other thanTaze.
Roni’sboyfriend.
Pretty fucking obvious this wasn’t a friendly socialcall.
The third guy had already joined the party by the time I’d done a mental inventory of every weapon or weapon-like object on my bike. I had nothing on my body, wouldn’t have risked it at the door of the club, but I had what I needed in a hidden compartment on mybike.
No chance of reaching it,though.
The four of us took a stroll around the backside of the building, away from the security cams. Which would’ve looked suspicious as fuck—if anyone was actually around to notice it. The whole way, the prick behind me kept his weapon jabbed firmly into myback.
I went along, cooperative as fuck. I was not getting my internal organs blown out behind a gas station off the Trans-Canada highway in the middle of the night by some dumb fuck who hadn’t graduated middleschool.
I got a look at him, and I knew who hewas.
The Sinners called him Brag, and of all his shitty qualities, my least favorite of Brag’s personality flaws was how cozy he was with Taze. Cozy enough that Taze shared his brand new girlfriend with him at a Sinner’s party in a romantic little threesome I was lucky enough towitness.
“On your knees,” he said, “and hands behind your head.” Clearly he’d watched too many episodes ofLaw & Orderwhile chain-smoking weed and studying to be abadass.
Icomplied.
The other kid stood in front of me. I knew him only as Topper. He was a bruiser, one of those guys that the other guys kept around mostly because he was handy in a fight. But when I looked in his eyes, he looked fuckingnervous.
I was on my knees, andhelookedscared.
As he fuckingshould.
The three of them were crossing an ugly line rightnow.
At least they weren’t so stupid they didn’t knowit.
“Fool me once, shame on you, huh, Jude?” Taze started talking. “Fool me twice… shame on me, right?” When I looked up into his face, he was standing over me, off to my right side, watching me carefully. “Took me fuckin’ long enough, huh? But I figured you out. I got you. You got a thing for my girl, is that it? That’s why you keep showing up uninvited. When I’m fucking her. When we’re meeting her friends’ babies. And you keep giving her that fuckin’look. Lemme guess. She turn you down, you can’t take no for an answer, something likethat?”
Topper shifted, and I glanced athim.
“I’m asking you a fucking question. You got a thing forRoni?”
I looked at Taze again and saidnothing.
Honestly, he looked scared, too. That fucking vein in the middle of his forehead. He looked pissed, but backed-into-a-corner pissed. Impotent pissed, like a dude who’d just had his dick cut off and handed tohim.
Yeah, he wasscared.
