Tapping some piece of ass? How about I fucking rip your balls off?
I seethe, watching the two girls head for the door, but Tito flashes me a grin. “Dutch is just out of the joint. Right, Dutch? You’re not going to want to see no cops.” He laughs and I growl, stepping his way and watching him shrink back.
He always was a fucking coward.
“You call her a piece of ass again…” I say to the owner.
And I let my words hang there, heavy. I cock my head, clench my fists. I’m ready to fucking roll with this guy. I learned it in prison. The look.
He must see it in in my eyes because he looks down, checking his feet for where his balls must have gone.
At least, that’s what I think.
But I’ve overestimated him. A fat hand forms into a pudgy fist and he lets fly, sloppy but still strong. I see the punch coming before he even throws it, my hand already in position to block. That’s another thing from prison—keep your eyes open. Be ready. No matter what.
As soon as his shot is deflected, I act on instinct, grabbing him and shoving him back.
Daphne’s words come back to me again: they’ll take you away from me. I promised I wasn’t going anywhere, and I mean it. I won’t even start anything with Tito. And the truth is, I don’t want to fight this pudgy fucker. I just want to get the fuck out of this place as soon as we can.
But I’m not leaving this room without that footage.
“Fuck!” the owner screams as he stumbles back, banging into a toolbox that spills its contents over the floor. He doesn’t even seem to notice as he picks himself up, laughing. “Okay, fucktard. I’m calling the cops. Your ass is going right back to jail.”
“Call them,” I snarl back, staring at the tools scattered over the floor. Expensive shit. Makita and Stihl. “I guess they’ll be interested in those.”
The owner turns, and I see the look on his face even as he tries to cover it. “Cops aren’t going to give a shit what I do with my own tools.”
“Oh yeah, so then why do they say Foster Garage on them? And The AutoSpot? Oh, and here’s another…” I kick at a long wrench. “Goodmyer’s Muffler Shop.”
“They don’t…”
This guy. This fucking guy. “Don’t even try.” I point to one of the tools, the word Foster clearly visible. “I know these people. They’re like my fucking family. And I know shit’s been going missing from their shop.”
The owner cringes and I can see him searching for some other explanation, when Daphne and James come around the corner.
I see the look in James’ eyes as he stares at the screen. The footage is paused but it’s clear what’s going on. He shakes his head, his jaw muscles protruding.
Shit. Win some and lose some. Just my fucking luck.
But again, it doesn’t matter. I care about James, but I’m not about to apologize for the greatest moment of my life.
“Delete the footage.” I walk over to the three monitors where there are video feeds playing from behind the bar and other angles out in the open area. I start punching keys on the computer, ready to wreck the system to get my baby off that fucking screen.
But I’m in the weeds on this one. Computers haven’t exactly been a big part of my life up to this moment.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” the bar owner says, pushing past me.
I watch as he taps the keyboard, finds the section of video that starts with us entering the closet, then he fast forwards to where we exit. Taps a few more keys and I see the prompt for him to confirm he wants to delete the footage and my heart cinches in my chest. He turns to me with a fat finger hovering over the delete key.
Part of me wants to keep it for myself.
Part of me wants to keep the moment I took my girl’s sweet cherry.
But that’s some selfish shit right there. Because if he doesn’t delete it, that puts Daphne at risk.
And anyway, I will always fucking remember it. In vivid technicolor forever.
I see Daphne is holding back a smile, eyebrows raised. I love her even more in this moment, though how the hell that’s possible, I just don’t know.
James, on the other hand, looks like a deer in the headlights. I’ll have to deal with that later.
I turn to Tito. He’s eyeing the tools on the floor. Suspicious as shit. But that’s Tito all over—a small time thief with no mind for the longer plan. “I’m guessing you’re a part of this shit?”
He waves it off. “Man, no. I’m just a go between. I don’t ask where the shit comes from, I just—”
“You think the cops will give a fuck? Ever heard the word ‘accessory’? Ever heard of profiting from stolen goods after the fact? You’re stealing from my friends, fucker. And I won’t stand for it.”
“Hang on a minute.” James looks shocked as I turn toward him. “What are you talking about?”
I snap my fingers and point at the tools. “The stuff that’s missing from your garage? I’m guessing that’s some of it right there.”
James crouches down and picks up a monkey wrench that his dad has etched his name into on the handle.
I watch as he starts to go through things, looking more and more angry. “You gotta be fucking joking.”
Very slowly, James rises up and he turns to Tito. Their sizes might not exactly match up but my old street buddy knows fury when he sees it. He shrinks back as James takes a step forward.
“Where’s the rest?” James demands. “Where’s the bigger stuff?”
Tito’s looking scared shitless. “I don’t know, I swear! I only—"James pulls at his arm, bending it up and behind his back and I already hear the snapping of tendons as they strain under the pressure. “Fuck! Dutch, get your dog on a leash, man!”
I put a hand on James’s shoulder. I can’t help but grin at this whole fucking situation.
Now I get right up in Tito’s face, grinning no more. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Tomorrow morning, all the shit that’s been stolen is going to appear back outside the Foster Garage before we open up. Got it?”
Tito swallows hard. “Yeah.”
I nod. “Same for the other shops. Not a single fucking needle-nose pliers is going to be forgotten. Am I right?”
“Right.”
“Otherwise the cops are going to show up and make your life an absolute pile of flaming dogshit. That’s if you’re lucky and they get there before me.”
Tito nods and blinks in shit-scared terror. I grab the toolbox from by the door as a down payment, then nod to James. He narrows his eyes at me. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but he’s not throwing punches.
It’s a start.
Daphne tugs on my arm. The warmth of her body, her scent, her softness. Fuck. All the fight just drains right out of me. I slip my arm over her shoulder, pulling her next to me as James looks on.
“We should go,” I tell them both.
The three of us make our way out into the parking lot, under clear cold skies. James stops before we get to the car.
“Wait just a second,” James says. “Are we going to talk about this?”
I glance at Daphne. I can still feel her wetness on my balls. “Talk about what?”