“What happened?” Po’Boy tilted his head that tiny amount he always did, just enough to indicate he was waiting for a response. “Just now, what was that?”
“What it was, Po’Boy—” He swallowed, feeling it in his gut when Po’Boy flinched. “—was me coming to my senses. You and me, we’ve worked for everything we have. Worked fucking hard. Today things nearly came toppling down around us. I think this—” He waved one hand, indicating the space between them. “—had already reached its natural conclusion.” A muscle popped in Po’Boy’s jaw, but he didn’t say anything. “Crissy is a woman with a mind. If she decides she wants one of us, that’s on her. She isn’t something for us to argue over.”
“You sayin’ she ain’t worth the fight?” Po’Boy spat out the question, squaring his shoulders in a way Wrench couldn’t misunderstand. “Because I’ll tell you you’re a fucking idiot. She’s worth fighting for. Fuck, she’s worth fighting over. But you don’t want her because she’s somehow tainted from bein’ with two men who were lovin’ on her? Don’t you fuckin’ sweat it, man. I got her. I’ll be whatever she needs me to be and you—” Po’Boy leaned closer, his expression fierce. “—can get fucked. I don’t get what you’re doin’, but you were set on this from before me walking in here. I thought you were salvageable, this”—he gestured between them, much as Wrench had—“was salvageable, but I was wrong. You’re a fuckin’ idiot, and I got no time for such. Enjoy your goddamned life.”
Po’Boy turned and without another word, swept through the door, slamming it so hard behind him the wall shuddered, the picture Wrench had of himself standing next to Bagger swaying dangerously close to falling off the nail that held it suspended. Wrench watched, fascinated as it wobbled wildly, then settled down, finally stilling, the frame out of whack, awry.
He whirled, facing the rest of the condo.
Empty.
“Fuck!”
***
Po’Boy
He stared at the phone as if it were a viper, turning in his grasp to lunge and pump poison deep under his skin. Lotta things under my skin, he thought. Lotta poison inside.
Flipping to recent calls, he assured himself he hadn’t been caught in a nightmare. The phone had rung, and words had been said.
“Boy,” greasy and rasping in the same breath, the voice from every nightmare slithered into his ear. “I know your secret. You’ll want to listen to me.”
He’d listened. Hadn’t agreed to a damn thing, but he hadn’t disagreed, either.
Chapter Fifteen
Po’Boy
“No, man. I gotta go.” Po’Boy turned to face the door, not wanting to see the pain he knew would be on his brother’s face. They’d been together forever, it seemed, but this would be something that would tear them apart. Abhorrent in the biker world, even if open mouthed kisses between brothers were used to shock citizens. “I can’t…George,”—here starts the separation, he thought, time to open up that first crack in our friendship, our brotherhood—“this ain’t something you can help me with.”
Low and intense, Twisted’s voice came at him from behind, pounding against and shaking his resolve to leave before he got kicked to the curb like a puppy who’d piddled on the carpet. “Don’t go, brother.”
“Man, I cain’t stay.” Truth spoken, he thought. It wouldn’t be something he could ever put to words, but the torture of seeing Twisted with Penny ripped at him every day. Not the knowing she was what his friend needed. But that she could give the man everything he’d ever wanted. Family and a place to be himself, not whatever the club or world wanted from him or wanted him to be. But a place for him to just be. No, it was the knowing he’d found his own need answered with Ty and Crissy, but unlike Twisted, couldn’t keep hold of his. Everything slips through my goddamned fingers. “Glad as fuck you found what you did with Penny. She’s your better half, no bout adoubt it. But I need…something different.” That was dancing around facts he didn’t want to have to put to words, while still not lying to Twisted. Their seventh-grade promise to each other still holding true. “I don’t want to drag you down while I’m looking for that for me.”
“Ain’t dragging me down to let me help you find what you need, brother. I’m pretty sure I got an idea what it is.” Closer, Twisted moved near enough Po’Boy could feel the heat against his back. Not as close as Ty had stood, though. The only man who’d ever known both sides of Po’Boy, and accepted both. Gone with the tides. Pain pierced him, then arms wrapped around him, pulling him back against the hardness that was his best friend’s chest and he felt Twisted’s muscles tighten, holding him in place. “Don’t fuckin’ quit on me, brother. You cain’t go.”
With a jerk and a lurching shove, Po’Boy pulled away. “I cain’t stay. Goddammit, don’t do that shit. You don’t know what I need. You don’t know. Cain’t know.” Turning, he faced Twisted and shouted, anger rolling through his chest, making his throat tight, so his shout came out more of a whisper, “You cain’t, George.”
“You think I don’t already know? Huh? You think this is news to me, brother?” Twisted made an impatient gesture with one hand, knifing the edge of his palm through the air. “Cut the shit, man. I know. I’ve always known. Love you how you are. Shit don’t matter to me, not a fuckin’ bit, and you fuckin’ know it.”
Po’Boy stood there, terror freezing him in place. He could swear his heart actually stuttered in his chest, the weight of panic so heavy the fist-sized muscle couldn’t keep up, couldn’t maintain the pace. Is he saying what it sounds like? Those recently received threats hung heavy in his mind, an outlined map of his destruction, perhaps already set into play. No words. Po’Boy couldn’t find anything his mouth would agree to say, so he stood there silent. Mute in the face of what felt like a possible peril.
Twisted wasn’t so afflicted, and he kept talking, sweeping the rug out from under Po’Boy in a way which meant they could never go back to before. “You’re fuckin’ gay. Have been. Shit like that don’t change just because you want it to, brother.” He still called me brother. “Life here ain’t like it was when Jimbo was in charge. Fuck, man, life in the club ain’t like it was five fuckin’ years ago. Five years ago, woulda been a problem. Today?” Shaking his head, Twisted took a step towards him, stopping when Po’Boy retreated a step. “I’ve always known, brother. Since the first day in the fuckin’ play yard back in Mandeville. Fuck, man, you think we’d be this close for this long and me not cotton on to the fact you like dick?”
Silent as a stone, Po’Boy locked his knees, horror making them weak. Twisted knows, he’s always known, and he stayed friends. Stayed by my side. Wanted me for the club. His thoughts turned to the last big rally and meeting in the area, an even dozen clubs coming together to pay tribute to their dominant club: Incoherent. Woulda weakened our position, folks knew about me. Grover had well known the value of the cards he held and leveraged those to protect his son’s surprise involvement in cartel business.
“Boy.” The slippery voice had crept across the distance separating them, Po’Boy’s arm in Grover’s neck, holding him to the wall. “You do not want to do this. All you gotta do is stand down. Back off, and convince your friends to do the same.” This meet hadn’t been anything Po’Boy wanted, but the looming threat of that viper had sucked him in, bringing him here today.
Grover didn’t seem worried, and Po’Boy realized his skin was powder dry. He ain’t scared. Why? Time to dig a bit. “The fuck you think’s gonna happen here, old man? You ain’t got no leverage. That boy of yours picked the wrong folks to back.” He chuckled. “Shoulda stayed with the American bet, that’s always best.” He leaned harder, enjoying the sounds of Grover beginning to struggle for breath. “You ain’t got a leg to stand on, man.”
“Got two of ‘em, in fact.” Face turning red, Grover managed to get the words out without wheezing. “You and your boy, Georgie.”
Po’Boy tipped his head to one side, watching Grover’s eyes. They never looked away, never flickered in ner
vousness, just stared at him. He’s got something. Waiting, Po’Boy was finally rewarded with words which turned out not to be so rewarding, instead spinning his world on end. “Known Georgie for longer than you have, boy. Me and him, we was fuck buddies back when he didn’t hardly have pubes. Your ass?” Grover made a dismissive sound as he stepped sideways, slipping out of Po’Boy’s suddenly lax grip. “Paled in comparison. Now imagine how that man would feel if he was outed, and then found out it was your dear old daddy who did it? Tore down everything his granddad handed him, everything he’s worked for.”
Shaking his head, Grover straightened his collar, making a harsh tisking sound. “You think a man like him would be willing to forgive and forget? You’ve already lost everything, boy. You just didn’t know it until now. Back down, and take your group with you. Leave my son his playground.” Po’Boy stared, still disbelieving. “Me and you, we can keep a secret. You’ve proven that all these years. What’s one more among family?”
With that final dig, Grover turned and walked through the door, leaving it swinging in his wake.
Resolved, Po’Boy shook his head, deciding to skirt the knowledge Twisted held, keeping every secret silent inside, he tried sidestepping the moment when he had to speak the words aloud. “I gotta go.” Tipping his chin down, he broke the stare. “You love the club, you’ll let me.”
“Why now?” This might be the hardest question to answer, unless he was willing to be honest with Twisted. First time for anything, he thought with a snort, withholding truth is nearly the same as lying. Twisted continued, “Brother, after everything we’ve been through, you gotta give me something. Don’t do this.”
“I…” He swallowed. Fuck this is hard. “I met someone.” And he had, two someones who fit so well with him it still seemed unreal. Gone and gone, he thought, wishing with everything inside him that things were different. They weren’t though, Ty and Crissy a shattered dream, but Twisted didn’t need to know he wouldn’t be running to the arms of a lover. Seeing Ty and knowing here was yet another man who wasn’t willing to out himself, another man he couldn’t have the kind of open and honest relationship he wanted, needed. I need more than I’ve had, and Twisted needs what he’s got. Means it’s time to just go.
“Who?” Of course Twisted would want to know. Was probably running IMC members and prospects through his head now, looking for another gay boy. “Someone you met recent like?” A shake of his head threw the idea away. Twisted persisted. “A member? Or someone you met from Orleans?” Another shake wasn’t a lie, because the man he’d been dreaming about wasn’t IMC, but wasn’t from the Quarter, either. “Gonna make me play twenty questions? Fuck you, just fuckin’ tell me, brother. I ain’t givin’ up on you. No way is that happenin’, so just fuckin’ tell me.”
“That’ll be something I won’t miss, fucktard. You always pushin’ like you know best. It’s someone I’ve known a while, and before you ask the question I see on your goddamned face, yes, you know them. But I ain’t gonna give them up, George.”
“Fuckin’ call me by my fuckin’ name, Po’Boy.” Growled, this seemed involuntarily ripped from his friend. “Stop your fuckin’ shit.”
“Twisted,” he gave that, at least. “Brother.” Gave that up, too. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Fuck you,” came the immediate response. “It doesn’t have to be, brother. I piss you off and you actually fuckin’ talk to me, you’ll find you don’t have to do this. I take you like you are, brother. No more, no less. Exactly how I’ve always taken you. Club’ll do the same, the ones who know you. Maybe there’s others like me who know but were afraid to say anything. Afraid I’d push a scene just like this one. So I’ve been waiting. Maybe they’re waiting, too.” Po’Boy scoffed at the idea, and Twisted shook his head. “No, brother. Could be. Like me. See, I’ve been waiting on you to say something for a long time, until I realized how fuckin’ deep you had that shit buried. Dug yourself a hole to China, stuffed your wants down that hole and then covered ‘em up. Love you, brother. Not like that, not my way, but I am not going to judge you for what you need.” He took a step towards Po’Boy, then another, until he was close enough to reach out and grip his bicep. “What I’m not willing to do is let you bail on us…on me, without a fuckin’ fight. You’re worth more than that, man. Worth a fuckuva lot, brother.”
“Man, you keep me, you’ll lose members. Incoherent would be at risk and I won’t be the fucktard who puts your pappy’s work on a dark path.” Twisted’s grip tightened to the point of pain, but he didn’t say anything, letting Po’Boy speak his piece. “You need me gone, brother.”
“Bullshit.” Twisted shook his head. “I got intel you don’t got, brother. I need you here, beside me, while we sort out this cartel shit. It’s tied up in people we both know.” He paused a moment, then spoke the name Po’Boy had been dreading for decades. “Grover’s played his last card, brother. He’s routing you with info I do not give one fuck about. Info I’ll gladly speak to, because I know Jimbo already did, the night he took me outta Nondall’s whorehouse. Ain’t an OG in the club don’t know what they saved me from. Him being your stepdaddy, I can only imagine. But—” Twisted leaned forwards at the waist, gaze intent on Po’Boy’s face. “—he done fucked up. His spawn ain’t worth the spit on my tongue, and I got an idea how to lay him out for the vultures. We’ll sort it all, sort your shit, and we’ll all be happy clams.”
He repeated his words from before, “You need me gone, Twisted. I can’t help with this.”
“Fuck you. If I got a say—and we both know I have more than just a say—then you’ll stay.” Twisted’s face cleared, worry leaching away and warmth infusing his features. He evidently had found an argument he believed in. “I ain’t kidding about Grover’s kid, Jeff. We gotta plan, brother. Plus, you’re gonna hafta stay. Who’s gonna keep my shit in line, if not you? ‘Got your six.’ Ain’t that what you always tell me? Who’s gonna have my six, you bail and run? You gotta stay.”
“Club to the core. Ain’t that what we always say?” Po’Boy turned the argument around, drew back, and aimed true. Saw the strike when his words hit home. “Twisted. Brother. I’m club to the core, and to save the club, it’s gotta go down bad.”
“Oh, no. Hell no. Fuck you sideways, ain’t doin’ that.” Twisted’s head came up, and he stared at Po’Boy, a wounded look on his face. “You find another home already?”
Having another patch lined up would have been a kill shot, and one he hadn’t considered, but he dismissed it out of hand. “No. Never. But, you will cut me. You will. Listen to me, brother. Listen for a fucking minute and put aside what you want. It’s the club, man. You need to cut me, and if I’m going to have a life that doesn’t impact you and the club, you gotta do it in a way folks believe. I won’t be going to another club. Fuck no, why would I do that when I have everything I’ve ever fuckin’ wanted right here. But so it’s believable, we gotta have a rift. A falling out.”
Their gazes locked, and neither man spoke for a long minute. Twisted breathed in a shuddering sigh, one that voiced so much without a word passing his lips. When he did speak, it was something Po’Boy had to be, but still chilled his bones. “Out bad.”
***
Wrench
“Naw, ain’t got no issue with your boy, just wanna ask him a couple of things.” Ace stared at Wrench from across the wide table, speaking to the cell phone laid on the surface in front of all the officers gathered today for church. Twisted had called, and Ace put him on speaker right away. As they had over the past two weeks, Ace’s every action made Wrench nervous, had him overanalyzing things like putting a call on speaker. Would he have done it like that before? Was this a chance to see if Twisted was going to out me? Maybe that was what he was hoping for, since letting it happen in a meeting like this would mean it wasn’t Ace who pulled the trigger.
Wrench swallowed hard and angled his head down, staring at the table, sweat breaking out across his shoulders as he listened
with every fiber of his being.
Ace cleared his throat. “You wanna come here? This IMC asking for a meet?” That would be out of the norm, for sure. CoBos were allies of IMC, and formal meetings usually meant trouble they needed to tackle together. It wouldn’t be trouble if Twisted was just calling Ace because Wrench wouldn’t pick up Penny’s calls for the past few days.
“Naw, Ace. Ain’t nothing like that.” Then, exhibiting either he expected the speakerphone or the call quality had indicated what Ace had done, Twisted addressed Wrench directly. “Wrench, just give me a goddamned call.” An edge of threat entered his voice. “I got some fuckin’ questions for you.”
Breaking his silence, Wrench responded, “Yeah, I’ll do that thing, when I got a minute.”
“Fuckin’ make a minute, brother.” The word eased the sour in his stomach, a little.
Ace shook his head and shrugged, and Wrench grinned at him, surprised when Ace returned the expression. Wrench answered Twisted, “From boy to brother in under two minutes, I can probably make that call.” Ace reached out and tapped the screen, disconnecting the call.
“What crawled up IMCs’ ass these days?” Peanut, the CoBos VP since Bagger’s death, leaned backwards in his chair. “I’d’ve thought Twisted would be pulling back, making fewer moves since he’s got an old lady now. Especially since it’s our Penny. I’m thinkin’ he should have more of a care with her.”
Ace snorted. “You seriously thinking our Penny would want him to change a thing? Jesus, Peanut, you know how she is. Been like that all her life.” He cut a glance across to Wrench. “You think it’s club, or just between the three of you?”
Fuck, does he think I’m with Twisted and Penny like I was Lewi—Po’Boy and Crissy? Nothing on Ace’s face gave Wrench a clue, so he responded carefully. “Penny called a couple of times, and I was busy, sent her to voice mail. Wouldn’t surprise me if she tried to enlist her man’s help in making a connection.” He curled his lip, letting a little of his known attitude towards Twisted show. Every man knew he’d gotten past his original dislike of the man, but it worked for laughs. “What would surprise me is if her old man extended that assistance.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Jesus, make a purse out of it already.” On cue, every man seated at the table laughed, leaning back, and the atmosphere in the room lightened.
Neither This Nor That Box Set 1 Page 54
