Page 34 of Dirty Like Jude
He was still at the clubhouse, but I knew he wasn’t drinking heavy tonight. He was one of the few Kings who never crashed at the clubhouse, would always make sure he was sober enough to drive home at the end of thenight.
“No bike,” I told him, spitting blood out onto the pavement at my feet. “Bring a car and come alone. Bring some cash. Can you get a couplegrand?”
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there in about… forty-five.”
“AndCon?”
“Yeah,boss.”
“Not a fucking word toanyone.”
* * *
“The fuck happened to you?”
I opened myeyes.
2:36am.
I looked up to find Con standing over me with a white-toothed smile, blond hair rimmed in the streetlight like a bloodyhalo.
“Jumped.”
He laughed uneasily. “Shit. Who the fuck jumpsyou?”
“Coupla kids.” I spat pink, bloody spit on the ground at my feet. My tooth had cut into the inside of my lip when Taze hit me, apparently, and it was still bleeding. “And a tireiron.”
He sat down next to me on the curb, looking me over. “Youokay?”
“Not really fuckin’sure.”
“Who the fuck was it? Where did this happen? You want me to call thisin?”
“No.” I looked him in the eye. “We’re not telling anyone aboutthis.”
He stared at me a minute, processing that. “EvenPipe?”
“Especially mybrother.”
Con was silent for aminute.
“I’m gonna assume the cash is for the doc,then?”
“Like to make sure my kidneys are still functioning,” Isaid.
* * *
3:19 am.
When we arrived at Dr. Singh’s clinic, he was already there. He let us in with a smile. The man was incredibly upbeat for a dude who’d been woken up in the middle of the night by a couple of bikers, one of whom was spitting and pissingblood.
Dr. Singh always wore a smile and the man had crazy eyes. He looked to me like he was always on some kind of uppers. Or maybe he was just high on life. Or the cash the Kings steadily siphoned hisway.
Or all of theabove.
He looked me over and took some X-rays, asked me not one single thing. Other than what had hit me in the back. When I told him it was a tire iron, he said, “Lever? Or like a four-way lugwrench?”
“Lug wrench,” I said. “L-type.”
