Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 93698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Are you fuckin’ serious? They’re chargin’ to get in?”
“Yeah, it’s a fundraiser.”
“No fuckin’ shit.”
When he went to walk past, Tick stopped him with, “Hey, you gotta pay, Prez. Was told everyone’s gotta pay.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” he growled. “I look like everyone?”
Tick shrugged again.
“For fuck’s sake. How much?”
“Five.”
He jerked his chain wallet from his back pocket and opened it.
Empty.
How the fuck was he going to buy a beer without any scratch?
He thought back to last night. The little scratch he had he’d thrown on stage whenever one of the girls shook their massive jugs in his face.
Fuck.
“How much scratch you got?”
Tick opened the lid to the box and began to count.
“Not in there! In your fuckin’ wallet, dumbass. Jesus fuck.”
Tick pulled out his wallet and opened it. He glanced up. “Like, sixty.”
“That it?”
“All I got.”
“Throw a five in the box and gimme the rest.” He held out his hand, palm up.
“What?”
“Need your ears cleaned out? You fuckin’ heard me.”
“But—”
Zeke’s eyebrows rose. “Gonna ignore your president’s order?”
Tick’s chest puffed out, then quickly deflated. He pulled a stack of what looked like small bills from his wallet and slapped it into Zeke’s palm.
Zeke peeled off a five and handed it back. “There you go. Now, never stop your fuckin’ prez from doin’ anythin’ again. Not if you want your full set of patches. You fuckin’ got me?”
Zeke walked past him, not waiting for an answer as he stuffed the rest of the scratch in his wallet and tucked it into his back pocket.
The place was fucking packed. Good for the Walker Foundation, not good for his patience.
As he wandered around, he spotted some DAMC members working some of the booths. A couple of the DAMC women were selling baked goods made at Sophie’s Sweet Treats.
He’d hit that up after a few beers.
In the distance, he spotted Nix by one of the food trucks and headed in that direction. When he got there, they clasped hands and bumped shoulders.
“Brother,” Zeke greeted.
“Prez,” Nix returned in greeting.
“Lyric here?”
“Yeah, she got a tent set up. Doin’ flash tattoos.”
His younger sister was a master ink slinger, just like their father, Crow. Nix? Not so much. He tried to learn, but he only inherited the artistic gene from one of his parents, not both.
Crow and Jazz’s daughter now ran In the Shadows Ink, and because of her skills, business was booming enough that she had to hire three more tattoo artists.
He had no doubt there’d be a line at her tent.
“Where’s the beer garden?”
“Got it at the back and fenced off so they can card anyone who enters.”
“Your prez needs a fuckin’ beer.”
“Got ‘em in the beer garden.”
“Yeah, but don’t got any fuckin’ scratch. Doubt they’re gonna give me one for free.”
“Probably not since it’s a damn fundraiser.”
“Spot me a twenty.”
After a quick stare down, Nix sighed and pulled out his chained wallet, cracking it open. Before he could grab a single twenty, Zeke snagged all the bills and pulled them out.
“What the fuck!”
Zeke thumbed through the cash. “Got more than a damn twenty. Gonna borrow a Benjamin.”
“Can’t call it borrowin’ when you don’t ever give it the fuck back,” Nix grumbled.
“Got a roof over your goddamn head and all the fuckin’ food, booze, and pussy you’d ever want, right?”
“See you’re still as much of a fuckin’ asshole comin’ outta the joint as you were goin’ in.”
Zeke shoved the hundred into his front pocket and handed the rest back. “Not true. I’m rehabilitated now, ‘cause before, woulda kept it all.”
Nix snorted and shook his head. “My statement still stands.”
“Wanna buy me a beer?” Zeke asked with a grin.
Nix jerked his chin toward Zeke’s front pocket. “Just did. Hope you don’t fuckin’ choke on it.”
“Like Opal did on my dick last night?”
Nix smirked. “Gaggin’ ain’t the only thing I heard comin’ outta your room.”
“After eight months inside, tryin’ to clear the pipes.”
“Or tryin’ to clog those damn pipes with gonorrhea.”
“Wore a wrap.”
Nix lifted one dark eyebrow. “While she was suckin’ you?”
Fuck. He was done with this conversation. “Need a fuckin’ beer.”
“Might need more than a fuckin’ beer!” Nix laughed loudly as Zeke strode away. “Make sure to save enough of that Benjamin to pay for antibiotics.”
Zeke flipped him off over his shoulder.
He had to be getting closer to the stage since he could now hear the band over the crowds mixed in with the obnoxious noise of the carnival rides. Too fucking bad the music was country. He hoped the lineup would at least include some decent rock.
For fuck’s sake, did he miss Dirty Deeds. Back in the day, Nash’s band was one of the best around. They traveled all over. Could’ve even gotten a recording deal. Then he and his pig husband adopted Beck and Bri. So he could help with the kids, Nash had given up being on the road and Dirty Deeds now only played at the DAMC parties.