Page 4 of Making His Bones

Booker rolled his eyes and shared a sympathetic look with me. It was still hard to square what I’d seen of Kneecap with him allegedly doing a bit of cave diving, a bit of getting his bean waxed.

By this time, Ford, Knoxie, and a couple other thugs were at the front door. Ford yelled, “Slushy, cumon! We’ve got to get our brother out!”

Still giggling, Slushy pointed at Booker with the business card. “Kneecap has rights. The Constitution says he does, and so do I.” The men all clamored out the door.

Booker took my hands in his. “Elektra, I just want to thank you for your work on this case. Frankly, there wouldn’t be a case at all without you.”

I reminded him, “And the Tyrone McKinley case, and the Humphrey Osmond case, and the Derf Backderf case . . . “

Booker nodded and squeezed my hands tighter. “Look. You’ve got my cell. Call me at least for lunch tomorrow? I’ll come down to Seeker if you’re there.”

This request went above and beyond our work relationship, and I was highly uncomfortable. I didn’t date. Hadn’t dated since my husband had blazed out of Seeker ten years ago. I might as well have been a reborn virgin for all the good it did. I was extremely nervous being around any amorous man. As if hearing my inner plea, Gray strode out from a hallway, supremely confident in his sexual allure, heading right for the case Booker and I leaned on.

We jumped and yanked our hands from one another. “Gray!” I cried. “So, you’re taking over this shop, I heard?”

“Yeah!” he said cheerfully, his voice as sandy as his hair. He leaned over to take a few releases from the cabinet, examining each one. “This’ll be a nice change for me. I’ve just been a handyman for the Boners. You know, polishing their bikes, standing guard—I mean, not that there’s anything to stand guard over—rekeying their locks, mowing their lawns, shit like that.” Standing tall, he smiled brilliantly at me. I wish my teeth were that white. “You know. Making my bones, so to speak.”

Booker said, “Well. Don’t forget my offer, Elektra. We’ll probably fly out of here day after tomorrow once we process your friend, get extradition papers in order.”

“I won’t forget,” I smiled lamely. I was actually more interested in the arrow releases, and I too, leaned over the case and pointed at one. Booker left.

Gray handed me a release, which I quickly velcroed to my right wrist. I tested the trigger way more than was necessary just to avoid looking at Gray. “So, you’re a handyman for the biker club.”

“The MC,” he corrected me. “See?”

He pointed to something on his vest, so I had to look at him. “Prospect,” I read. “What does that mean?”

“That means I just joined, hoping to patch in.” His tone changed, became more thoughtful. “Though I don’t know from a donkey’s ass whether I really will. Everything’s up in the air now.”

He was like a glamorous soap opera actor, some primetime cop, a suave lawyer in a three-piece suit. Only he was standing here replacing windows and cleaning bikers’ toilets. What was he wasting his time for?

“Hand me that pink compound,” I instructed him.

J