Seriously, the man needed a toothbrush, a dentist, and possibly a hazmat suit.
“The prez ain’t above his station. He knows what side his bread is buttered on. So he ain’t gonna be happy with the highfalutin digs that Daddy Warbucks dishes out.”
“WHAT?” I practically shrieked, then growled, “And see a damn dentist! Your breath is awful! Someone with a fucking brain cell explain!”
Thore groaned and finally stepped up. “You see, Doc, the prez—that’s our boss, right? But his môman rules the roost. She’s got this whole thing about appearances. She thinks if Gator shows up at some fancy-pants resort, her sisters will think Gator’s trying to be something he ain’t. Gator loves his môman and is happy being a good ol’ boy, not a fancy-pants ski bunny.”
Donut nodded vigorously, spraying sugary doom in the process.
I... I had no fucking words.
I didn’t even know how to respond to that.
“Yeah, and Môman agrees. She’s all about keeping it real, you know? No airs, no graces, just good ol’ fashioned bourbon and... well, more bourbon.”
I stared at them, speechless for a blessed moment.
“What my brothers are so eloquently trying to enunciate is that they will feel out of place staying at the lodge. Maybe there is some place more homey and less opulent. More befitting their station, if you catch my drift?” Worm, the only fucking brotherin the Bourbon Kings with a functioning brain, muttered as he slowly shook his head.
Then a wicked grin spread across my face.
“So,” I said, a plan forming. “They need to feel at home.”
“Yep.” They all nodded.
Grinning, I clearly said, “I know the perfect place.”
Not even twenty minutes later, I unlocked a back door and stepped to the side, letting the Bourbon Kings through first. Following them up the stairs, the brothers stretched their arms and smiled, finding themselves a cozy spot to sit and chill. Looking around the bunch, my gaze focused on Gator.
“Will this do?”
“Merci beaucoup.” The President of the Bourbon Kings grinned, stretching out on a well-worn, used sofa.
“Scribe keeps the fridge stocked, so there is plenty of food, and all the alcohol you can drink is downstairs. Help yourselves,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.
This would teach King to shackle me with Carnage again.
I hoped these fuckers drank the Irish Rose Tavern dry!
Leaving Gator with the keys to the tavern, I headed back down the stairs, happy with myself and not giving a fig if King blew a fuse.
Heading for my vehicle, I spotted Devlyn and glanced behind me to make damn sure Gator and the others were perfectly hidden out of sight, ensconced in their new hidey hole until the wedding.
While I was all for annoying the hell out of King, I flat out refused to disrupt Cameron’s or Granny’s plan. Cameron scared the crap out of me and, well... Granny had a mean streak when the mood suited her.
“Hey, Devlyn,” I greeted. “Why are you out walking alone this late at night?”
“Trying to clear my head.”
“You want to talk about it?”
She huffed. “Unless you know a surefire way to get rid of an annoying swamp rat, then no.”
Smirking, I asked, “Gator bothering you again?”
Sighing, she muttered, “No. Not really. Athena showed up at the lodge today and said something that bothered me.”
“Never pegged you for the witchy woo shit.”
