Page 180 of Rags's Awakening
Rags didn’t evenhave to ask; Hog had already poured two neat tumblers of Jack the second Rags caught his eye. Carrying the glasses over, Rags dropped into the padded metal chair opposite Throttle, letting out a long breath. Across the room, a mindless infomercial droned from the TV screen, holding the glassy-eyed gaze of a few older patches slowly passing a joint. In the corner, three club girls giggled as they painted each other’s nails, the sharp tang of polish cutting through the earthy aroma of weed.
“There’s no way these Satan’s Heretics are cutting off their loan sharking ’cause we told them to through their middleman,” Throttle said, raising his tumbler.
“I agree. Hell, we all agree. Hawk and Banger know something’s up,” Rags said. “We just gotta figure out what it is.”
“According to Hawk, they’ve gone underground. He can’t find shit on the grapevine.” Throttle threw back his shot. “Seems like we’ll have to take a trip to Bridgeport soon.”
Rags sighed. “Hopefully, it won’t be in the summer. Texas summers are brutal.”
“Yeah. We’ll see what Hawk turns up.” Throttle motioned the prospect for two more whiskeys. “How’s the house hunting going?”
Hogs placed two more tumblers on the table, then headed back to the bar. Rags tilted his head toward the prospect’s retreating back. “Hog’s gonna get patched in soon. He’ll be a good addition. Skinless and Rusty aren’t too far behind.”
“Those two new ones… Throttle snapped his fingers. “What are their fuckin’ names?”
“Bender, Ice, and… uh… Damnit. I can’t—”
“Jaguar! That’s it,” Throttle cut in. “I hate that shit. When it’s right on the tip of your tongue but you can’t bring it out.”
Rags laughed. “Getting old, aren’t you?”
“You didn’t remember either, old man.” Throttle chuckled. “Anyway. The house?”
“It’s okay. Case has been swamped at the theatre, and my days have been jammed. Summers are too busy for us. The money’s good, but you got no time.”
“Always slows down by September,” Throttle shrugged. “Then the fall rush hits.”
Rags nodded. “We’ve been thinking about building our own place, but the timeline is killer.”
“What’s your rush? You’re settled in the rental, right?”
“Sorta. It was a panic move after that shit went down with the fuckin’ sicko. Casey wouldn’t stay in her place for another minute, and I didn’t blame her. She packed a couple of bags and crashed here for a week, but you remember.”
“I wondered how long she’d last at the clubhouse.”
“It didn’t make sense. She works from home, and place isn’t exactly a quiet office. So we rushed into a lease. I only signed for six months.”
“Axe’s ol’ lady designs kickass houses.”
“Bailey’s top-notch. Axe’s place is cool, and so is Smokey’s. We’ll see.” Rags finished his second drink, then pushed his chair back. “I gotta get going. You heading out or sticking around?”
Throttle shoved his tumbler toward the middle of the table. “Nah. I’ll walk out with you.”
The heavy door swung shut behind them, cutting off the drone of the TV. Rags squinted against the blinding gold glare as the sun hovered right on the jagged edge of the westernridges. He pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his leather jacket, slipping them on.
“What you got going with Kimber tonight?” Rags asked.
“Not much. I’m bone-ass tired. Probably conk out on the couch while she watches her shows.” Throttle laughed. “Damn. Never thought I’d get to this point when a recliner sounds like a good purchase.”
“We do manual labor, bro. It’s hard ass work.”
“And we’re not in our twenties anymore,” Throttle added. “The mileage is catching up.”
“Don’t lump my body in with your wrinkly ass.” Rags laughed.
Throttle guffawed, clapping him on the shoulder. “We can still kick ass. Better than Bones and Blade any fuckin’ day.”
“Damn straight.”
