Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(14)
But now Ford the Golden Boy, hiding behind two stunningly model-like sweetbutts, was refusing to even acknowledge Lytton’s existence.
One of the chicks tried to calm him down. “And who the f*ck are you?” Lytton railed. True, her presence, her touch on his arm, had something of an angelic influence on him. It did calm him to look down on this seemingly innocent sweetbutt with the giant button eyes, like those paintings of those mournful, large-eyed kids. Bangs framed her brows as though someone had put a bowl over her head, giving her an even more innocent, childish look. Something in her reached out to Lytton, and he didn’t tear her head off. Plus, she had amazing, bouncy knockers.
Instead, he just yelled, “Who the f*ck are you?”
She splayed her hands on her chest and said earnestly, “I’m June Shellmound, Ford’s sister-in-law.”
Aha. It was making more sense now. The other sweetbutt, Maddy, must be Ford’s old lady. Lytton’s sharp eye caught that both were wearing wedding rings. Asshole had actually manned up and at least attempted to make someone an honest woman. He saw June was not wearing a ring, and for some reason, this comforted him. He focused his anger back onto Ford, pointing at him.
“None of this changes the f*cking fact that all these years you let me rot on the res while you reaped the benefits of being an Illuminati. Well, the buck stops here, motherf*cker. You might be a f*cking Navy SEAL and one of the ‘Filthy Few,’ but Cropper is my father just as much as he’s your father and I want a piece of the action.”
Ford held up his hands. “Wait just one second, motherf*cker.” The menacing thugs who had tried to keep him out of the hallway now loomed over his shoulder. He could feel their menace as they practically breathed down his neck. The giant craggy beaner, Tuzigoot, looked like he could pop your eyeballs with one squeeze of his fist around your neck. Another guy with a high-and-tight haircut seemed to have every inch of his body inked with the most bloody, tragic scenes from the Bible. “How do I even know you’re Cropper’s son? What suddenly made you come jamming over here thirty years after your first birthday, sobbing that you want a piece of some pie?”
Lytton didn’t particularly want to admit that it was some f*cked-up condom breath of a sergeant-at-arms who had told him this during an attempted robbery. He mitigated it and gave it an air of authority by saying, “Doug Zelov told me.”
Ford exploded, hands in the air. “Well, that f*cking explains a lot, doesn’t it? Do you f*cking believe a single word that shitbird says? Of course he’s going to try and stir up trouble—he’s been our mortal enemy since the short pants days!”
Men behind Lytton murmured in agreement about the short pants days, mortal enemies, and shitbirds.
However, the girl who stood next to Lytton said, “He does look a lot like you, Ford.”
This opinion was greeted with furious glares from both Ford and Maddy.
“No. No. No,” said Ford. “I’m sorry, Lincoln or whatever your name is. But the day Doug Zelov speaks the straight dope about anything is the day I lean right and join the Chamber of Commerce.”
Maddy said, “We actually did just join the Pure and Easy Chamber of Commerce.”
“Whatever. I’m sorry you’re laboring under such delusional grandeur, Lincoln—”
“Lytton,” June Shellmound corrected her brother-in-law.
“Lincoln, but the word of Doug Zelov is hardly good for a used condom around here.”
Everyone behind Lytton chuckled. The French guy said, “The word of Doug Zelov is a piece of toilet paper stuck to your shoe.”
That was when Lytton noticed the soft-spoken proprietor of A Joint Effort in the crowd behind him. This good-looking guy laughed, too, and said, “Worthless as a bucket of warm piss.”
Of course this enraged Lytton further. He realized it must sound asinine, taking the word of a rival as gold, so he added in a lower voice, “I asked my stepfather. He admitted that Cropper Illuminati is my father.”
Now that gave this f*cker Ford pause for thought. He looked into Lytton’s eyes, unblinking. Maddy narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to Lytton, examining him.
It was Maddy who finally said, “We could easily order a DNA test. It would take about three working days for results.”
That was right—June had said Maddy was a nurse. DNA testing was an excellent idea. Lytton leaped right on top of it. “Swab away!” he declared, and even posed submissively with his mouth wide open.
This made Maddy giggle. “Well, I’d have to get the kit from work,” she explained.
Lytton could tell he was making headway, at least with the ladies. Relaxing again, he told Ford, “I’m saying I’m a hundred percent convinced of this, Illuminati. I mean, look at us. Your wife is right. Who was your mother? My mother is Sadie Driving Hawk.”
Ford said quietly, “Rebekah Quail.”
Lytton had never heard of Rebekah. He just knew Ford’s mother had died a couple of years ago from organ failure brought on by drug abuse, so she was probably very similar to his mother. “Well, I look forward to getting to know our father through hearing you talk about him. I know he passed last year, and I can’t make up for lost time thanks to a lot of factors that all conspired to keep me in the dark, but I look forward to hearing about Cropper, how he lived his life.”
Lytton looked around. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. All three people stared at him as though stunned by Tasers.