Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(24)
Madison cried, “Don’t even say it, Slushy! Ford worked his ass off for over a decade to form that company, when he wasn’t busy shooting terrorists in Afghanistan. Some * can’t just waltz in and take half his hard-earned spoils.”
Slushy continued. “You need to show him some goodwill. Invite him to prospect for the club.”
Ford said, “He’d be at the same ranking as Kneecap and August. Farther below, actually, because those guys were hang-arounds for a long time before they started prospecting.”
Turk surprised me by saying, “If you want him to oversee the dispensary, fine. But that’s my baby. I don’t want anyone telling me I’m sloppy, that my Munchy Mondays are a stupid promotional stunt. I’ve had that place in hand forever. If you want to put his name on a masthead to shut him up, fine. He can come in twice a week and move stuff around. Then I can move it back when he leaves.”
Slushy tilted his head at Ford. “Does that sound like a plan, hot stuff? I can throw the tuxedo biz in there gratis. You can mull over the gas station.”
I said eagerly, “I seriously doubt he wants any damned tuxedo biz or gas station, though.”
Turk asked, “And what about A Joint Effort? June, you just saw his operation up there on Mormon Mountain. Do you think he’d have any interest in taking part of the dispensary?”
I had to be honest. I could easily see Lytton being a little bored with his pot empire on Mormon Mountain, wanting to interact with other people more, for example. “You know what? He’s still in town. He just dropped me off. He had some shopping to do. Why don’t you call him?” I took out my cell and waved it around. I had Lytton’s number in there because he’d called me from the hospital pharmacy in Flagstaff while I waited, burning up, in his cage.
“Yeah,” said Ford. “I’d rather confront him here, in a safe zone. He just seems a little…off, to me. I mean, all Native Americans have that same sort of off-center insanity. But him more so than others.”
Slushy agreed. “He obviously has a mighty huge chip on his shoulder to go running into the Citadel in front of a dozen biker thugs and demand a piece of the spoils. Demented Apache? I’m going to go out on a limb here and say they’ve been known to exist. You’re not the most stable horse in the corral either, hot stuff. And you both have the same father.”
“Don’t mention him. I don’t want to hear the name.” Ford wiped his face with his palm. He looked like he’d been through hell and back that day. Finally, sighing deeply, he nodded at me. “Go ahead. Tell him to come here. But I ain’t got all day. Tell him to come ASAP.”
I did so, walking into the front store portion of the Hip Quiver so no one could hear the affection in my tone. “Lytton, it’s June,” I said stupidly into my cell.
“Little one.” Was it my imagination or was that also affection in his tone? I could hear people milling around him talking, as though he were at a coffee shop. “Already miss me?”
“Actually, I do miss you.” It was true. Why not admit it? “I have to thank you for taking such good care of me. You didn’t have to. You barely know me.”
“Well, you’re family now, I suppose.” That was sort of creepy, and I was chagrined that he had to mention it. He couldn’t have just said he was horny and I was cute? Was me being vaguely related to him by marriage the only reason he’d taken such good care of me? “I guess you’ve gotten the DNA results by now.”
“Yes, and they’re what you expected. We’re down at Ford’s lawyer behind the archery range on Bargain Boulevard. Ford wants you to come down. Can you make it?”
Lytton paused. I was surprised. I expected him to jump on it. I watched as Kneecap, the Prospect proprietor behind the counter, limped around on his long hand-hewn cane. How did a cripple get to be a Prospect? How did he even ride his Harley with one seemingly dead leg? Maybe he was just temporarily injured.
“All right. I know the archery range. It’s right across from The Bum Steer, right? I’ll be right down.”
I was tense as I meandered about the shop. My whole future with Lytton would probably be determined within the next ten minutes. Slushy walked through the store, going out for a Krispy Kreme, and I told him to hurry back. I wanted to be the first to see Lytton, to gauge his feelings. I knew that if things didn’t go well with Ford, I’d never see Lytton again. And suddenly seeing Lytton again was the most important thing in the world to me.
He came in a couple of minutes after Slushy left. Such a rush of love swept through me at the sight of his loose, long-limbed beauty. Having rolled in a feverish sweat for three days in his bed, I felt that I knew him. I was imbued with his scent. I was so wrapped up with my need to attract him. I wanted to reinvent myself. I didn’t want to be the hippie dippy returned Peace Corps volunteer, but an alluring, sensual woman capable of handling his extreme dominance.
He barely glanced at me, too wrapped up in his cell conversation. He paused near a display of fletchings and nocks. “Listen, I’d be an idiot not to bring it up. You don’t think it’s important? It’s probably the number one most important aspect of this whole entire deal.” He paused to angrily listen to someone I surmised was his partner Tobiah. Tobiah seemed to be trying to talk Lytton out of making a rash decision. “I will not keep this supposition to myself, you f*ckwad—it’s far too important to sweep under the f*cking rug. It’s not just some random douche saying it, either—Helium Head, Crybaby, and Bill Smith all confirmed the story. Apparently I was the last guy on the planet to know about it. Yeah? Well if we all sat around on our hands jacking off like you seem to prefer to do, nothing would ever get done.”