Page 23 of Conan
“Then I’ll print those out for you to scan over, but you need to turn a blind eye, stay positive, and not hit the sites. They’re the devil’s playground where the keyboard warriors live, sis,” I press.
“We’ll try that and see how it works. It’s going to be hard because each and every reader’s opinion and thought matters, but I know there are trolls out there who aren’t happy with their lives and exist to bring others down. So I’ll do my best to stay off the platforms. Alright?”
“I’ll accept that, for now,” I inform her. “Now, let’s get back to plotting. Get your recorder out and I’ll let you play reporter.”
“Yes!” she hollers, pumping her fist into the air which has me giggling like a schoolgirl. The things that excite her are out of my wheelhouse of understanding, but her enthusiasm is contagious.
CHAPTER
TEN
CONAN
I feelbare without my cut laid over my shoulders. We don’t necessarily have to dress up for this soiree of businessmen, but everywhere I turn, men are outfitted in polo shirts with pressed slacks, and the abundance of varying colors is like swimming your way through a sea of rainbows. My brothers and I are all sporting jeans, tees, and boots so we don’t fit in with the rest of the attendees.
“That motherfucker is in a lime green shirt, guess he didn’t want to be missed,” Rev chuckles.
“Got one better, brother,” Risk states, shaking his head, “just passed a dude on the way back from the bathroom wearing day glow pink. I swear he’d light up like it’s the Fourth of July if it suddenly went dark.”
“This is gonna be an adventure,” Kodiak mumbles. “Remember, we’re supposed to be trying to fit in.”
“Don’t even think about it. You’re never going to get me to wear that shit, Marcum,” I growl, lifting my eyes at him because I know—I justknow, that the next words out of his mouth are going to be that we need to hit up the local Abercrombie department store or another exclusive, snooty shop.
I’ve never in my life spent forty to fifty bucks on a collared shirt and I’m not about to start spending that sorta dough now. I shop at supercenters, they’re reasonably priced and I can buy ten shirts as opposed to the one I’d get spending my money there.
“It’d only be for a few days, Xavier,” he replies.
“Don’t care, ain’t happening,” I say, grinding my jaw.
“I’m with Conan on this one, pres,” Rev retorts. “The material they use on polos make me itch.”
“Is it the material or the fact that the preppy look de-mans you?” Midas asks, cackling.
“A little bit of both, if you want all honesty,” Rev reckons. “My mom used to dress me like that… in kindergarten. I’d rip that shit off and toss it over my head the second I strolled through the door of our house and walked around bare chested for the rest of the evening in order to get the scratchy feeling off my skin.” He does a full body shiver which I can sympathize with.
Marcum and I were the lucky ones, our mom didn’t care much about what we wore as long as it was clean and we went to school so she could have a kid free day from seven in the morning until three thirty in the afternoon.
I glance over and notice Kodiak glancing down at the screen of his phone. He tucks it away before telling us, “They’ll be here in fifteen. We’re out of time so this conversation is moot.”
“Moot,” I snicker. “You been reading Luna’s books or something educational to up your vocabulary, brother?”
“It’s not an unusual word, Xavier,” he grumbles. “I’ve got brains, ya know?”
“Where?” I ask, walking up and rapping on the top of his cranium with my knuckles. “Sounds hollow to me.”
“Fuck off, Conan,” he snarls.
“Oh, so I’m Conan again, huh?” I continue taunting him.
My brother narrows his eyes at me but I don’t let that deter me. He knows me better than anybody else and knows that I use humor to get through anger and anxiety.
“You done?” Marcum asks.
“For now,” I state, keeping the smile plastered onto my face.
“Let’s walk outside so we can lay eyes on our targets,” Marcum orders, dismissing me. “I want to see if they’re antsy, because if they are, they made our tag.”
“I doubt they managed to see Regulator and Stixx tailing them. Our men are too damn good at what they do,” I stress.
