Page 51 of Not Mine to Rescue

“You wanna be a manipulative, self-centered bitch like that and waste good resources on your snit? I say, go for it. It won’t bring me back. Fuck you.” I punctuated the last two words with a raised middle finger.

For good measure, I acknowledged the dog-walker. “Crazy bitch. May I get your name as a witness that she was still alive when I left?”

Winter noticed the person I’d spoken to with a screech and then slammed her door shut.

He held out his free hand. “It’s Craig. I’m in 2B.” That was more than enough info to track down should the worst happen.

I took the outstretched hand, and gave him a heartfelt shake. “Thanks, Craig. I appreciate that. Nice dog.”

Then, I texted Walt to warn him I was on my way.

Tears.

Actual fucking tears.

Walt dried his eyes with a bandana, but couldn’t stop the giggles that had taken over his whole body. For about the hundredth time, I thanked my good fortune to be named Wombat, because a story like this? Hell. My shame would be passed along the biker grapevine for decades.

Nickel wasn’t much better. His face was red, and every once in a while his shoulders would shake.

He sighed. “Maybe I should put Flyspeck on it. He’d get laid.”

“Oh, Jesus. She’d kill the poor bastard. Unless...” Walt leaned in, “you ain’t still mad at him, are you?”

With Nickel, it was hard to tell.

He finally admitted, “Maybe a little.”

“Man, you gotta let that shit go. It ain’t healthy.”

Of course, Nickel took Walt’s suggestion wrong. The humor fled and he shot our president a dead-ass stare that spoke volumes.

Walt spoke again. “It ain’t. You know that.”

Nickel’s shoulders lifted and fell. “I’m trying.”

“I know. And we all got your back. Put Nasty on it. Maybe that will give his redhead competition, and he’ll wise up.”

Nickel snorted.

It was a good plan. Nasty had been chasing a sweet piece of tail for a while. But there were signs she wasn’t in it for the long haul. He’d get his heart broken soon. That would leave us in a world of shit.

“Speaking of shit,” I started.

Walt pointed a finger at me. “You gotta stop that crap.”

“What?”

“Changing subjects. We’re talking about Nasty and that redhead. You know redheads ain’t nothing but trouble.”

I squinted at him. If anyone had changed the subject, it was him. “Walt, can we focus here? I tell you she’s going bite us in the ass.”

“Redheads’ll do that.”

“Winter is blond. Focus.” Just because his first wife was a redhead didn’t mean all were that way.

“I am focusing.”

Nickel shot me a lifted eyebrow. He’d already formed a plan and was only waiting for Walt to get caught up before proposing it. That meant, he was letting our president circle like a damn vulture.