Page 45 of Not Your Romeo
Cane was a natural born gunner, and Griz just had a lot of shit to work out that he wasn’t willing to pay for or trust a therapist with. We hit a century on the way to South Roxana. I shouldn’t have pushed it like that with Griz and Cane with me, but I needed to feel that wind. True to form, they didn't appear to mind. Neither fell back any, or verbalized complaints once we parked our bikes beside a garage with a busted window.
“Pulling it out now,” Capone called from within the structure before a humming noise gave way to a series of bangs and the garage door shakily lifted.
Capone rolled out in a maroon jeep with tinted windows. He rolled one down and twitched his head, “I’ll hop in back, who is driving?”
“Me,” I called it and they all climbed inside. “Capone, get the fuck up here, you’re the one who knows where this asshole is, yeah?”
“For sure. He’s with them Deuces on twenty-second street. Goes by Saint, government name DeJesus?”
“Saint.” I nodded my confirmation, before grunting, “Don’t know the motherfucker’s government name. All good, though, if I have to knock off a few Saints to get to the right one, I’m okay with that, too.”
Cane laughed and made a muffled, somewhat giddy, sound in the back as he checked his magazine and got his pistol ready for action.
“There was a lot of noise over here by my cousin’s place. The people say Deuces are trying to push into the area and Saint is the one responsible for forming the new set,” Capone rambled while pointing me through the dusky streets.
“Wait– Your cousin knows this clown?”
“Yeah, Saint chases her. She won’t touch him, though. She says he makes too much noise dropping all them bodies with his dirty H.”
“‘Dirty H–‘” I repeated, unable to keep the disgust from my voice.
“Goddamn.” Griz scoffed, cutting me off. “Suppose your ol’ lady’s weed had gotten exposed. What if she had sold a dimebag that ended up dropping somebody because it was handled with that bullshit? Wait ‘til we find this little bastard.”
Griz’s ol’ lady had overdosed five years ago, and he still had a grudge against anyone that pushed the shit. That was one wound time hadn’t done a damn thing for. If it was anything like losing Ruby, I doubted any amount of time ever would make it better.
“Mhm,” I grunted my agreement as I crossed an intersection.
The block Capone indicated was empty the first time we cruised it. I navigated my way around and prepared to slowly make my way down it again, when we spotted something just as sweet.
“Ain’t that the motherfucker that Sauce got popped with that one time?” Griz squinted.
Capone looked, too, before announcing, “That’s Zander, alright. He’s a Deuce, too.”
I laughed and swung the jeep into a parking spot.
Cane and Griz were on Zander before I even had the gear shifted. He didn’t realize he was in trouble, until he was on the stairwell, giving them just enough time to catch him at the motel turned apartment complex. I took the stairs calmly to the second floor and entered the room they’d tumbled into, shutting the door behind me.
Zander got clear of them, holding up in a corner with his arms out in front of him. Cane was grinning from ear to ear, taunting him quietly, “Please tell me you’re packing. Tell me you’re gonna reach for it. Give me a fucking reason, baby. Come on, don’t disappoint. Daddy’s here for you.”
“I’m not reaching,” Zander shouted, shaking his head in denial. “Ain’t nothing to reach about. I ain’t did shit to you motherfuckers. That was all Saint. You guys are here about Saint and that broad, yeah?”
Zander threw his head back, sending his dark hair scattering from his face. His imploring gaze stopped jumping, landing directly on me.
“Me and you have been ten rounds Ziggy, we’re square, man. You said we was square.”
I could tell by his tone, whatever comfort he found in there only being three of us was slowly seeping away. Griz had a deep scowl twisted on his features as he studied all the capsules and tablets laying on the dresser.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Griz growled, jerking something out of his pocket.
He shoved his fingers into his lead-knuckled gloves, and I realized his face was turning a little red.
“Where the fuck is this bitch Saint? We’re gonna end up all needing Narcan just fuckin’ standin’ in here with you.”
Zander snorted, his gaze momentarily dancing from Griz’s visibly growing anger, to me.
“Saint is my soldier, anything you need to say to him, you can say to me. How about that?” He subtly bobbled his head.
“Yeah. I was hoping your dumbass was gonna say that,” Griz scoffed, swiping a handful of tablets off the dresser.
