“Hey, brother,” I said. “Are these Guillermo’s guys?”
“Yeah, man. They’re a bunch of rowdy motherfuckers.” He shook his head.
“Did Guillermo show up?” I didn’t expect him to show. We were entertaining his men tonight, trying to grease the wheels for an upcoming job Mad Dog was setting up with him.
“Nah, they said he’s holed up in his house. Doesn’t party with the help,” Axe said. “I guess he’s paranoid about security too.”
“Did Mad Dog get the meet set up with Guillermo, or do we still have to roll out the red carpet for them?”
“I don’t think so,” Axe said. “But you know the Prez. Keeps it real close to the chest until it’s final. Besides, these guys aren’t too bad. Brought some Russian pussy with them.” He stopped, pulling on a bottle, liquor running onto his beard. “Not like you need it. Itchy said they left you up north, knee deep in twat.”
“Must have been some magic fucking pussy that kept you up there that long.” Greasy held out his hand, laughing, and I took it.
“Fuck you, man,” I said. I’d actually forgotten about her. What the fuck was her name? Jessie or something? I was bad with names.
“I heard the words magic pussy.” Dirty Joe walked up, dragging some chick with him, arm wrapped around her shoulders. She stumbled into him, barely able to walk straight, pressing her tits up against his chest and hanging onto his belly for support. Dirty Joe had more than enough belly for her to hang on to. “This girl here’s got that magic pussy too, don’t you?” He reached up her skirt, groping her, and she laughed.
“That’s right, daddy,” she slurred. “Now get your face down there.”
“Sorry, boys,” Dirty Joe said, pulling her away. “Duty calls.”
I laughed. “ Is Mad Dog around here? Need to talk to him.”
Axe nodded toward the back. “Think he might be getting his knob polished by one of Guillermo’s girls, but who knows.”
I walked toward the back room and knocked on the door. “Prez!”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Blaze!” Mad Dog yelled from behind the door. “Where have you been?”
I pushed open the door, then yanked my head back out when I saw them. “Shit, Mad Dog. Come on- warn me or something!” Mad Dog was buried balls deep in some chick who was bent over, her hands on the sofa.
I heard her whine. “Come on, daddy, do it,” and then something in Russian.
Out in the main room, someone yelled and a glass shattered. I turned around to see Tiny standing up from the floor, wobbling, holding his hand against his head. Axe was yelling at someone. It was just a fight.
The door in front of me opened, and a girl walked out, mascara smeared around her eyes, pulling a leopard print dress down around her ass, the kind of dress you’d see on a corner hooker. She looked up at me. “Like what you see, daddy?” She reeked of booze and cigarettes, and my stomach lurched.
“Christ, Mad Dog, is she even eighteen?” I asked.
She wobbled on her huge heels. “Just had my birthday!”
“Get out of here,” I said. “Shit.”
“Aw, you don’t want to play, daddy? I’ll show you a real good time.” Pushing her away, I joined Mad Dog in the room, watching him light up a cigar.
“You want one?”
“Christ, are those Russian chicks even legal?” I waved at the cigar. “Nah, I’m good.”
“She says she’s eighteen,” Mad Dog said, putting his palms in the air. “Who am I to argue?”
“Yeah, I'm sure she just had her birthday," I said. I wasn’t sure about getting into bed with Guillermo, and this kind of shit didn't make me feel any better about it. But the club had voted, and a vote was a vote.
“What, you want me to ask for ID? She says she's eighteen, she's eighteen.” Mad Dog shrugged. He knew I didn’t like that kind of shit. I couldn’t help it. You grow up with a junkie mom and her shitty boyfriends, get the shit kicked out of you in the foster care system- it makes you real pissed when you see kids get taken advantage of. It was personal. If Guillermo was running women, kids, it wasn’t shit I wanted to be involved with.
“How’d the run go?” He grinned, and I knew he wasn’t referring to the run. He was referring to the girl I’d supposedly been banging up at the clubhouse all day. Poor girl. Now every guy here was going to want a taste of that magic pussy.
“Fine. Stayed behind for a bit.”
“So I heard.”
I shrugged. “Pussy, man.”
“Well, while you were buried in twat, I was securing our future.” He leaned back against the desk, took a drag on the cigar, then looked at it like he was some kind of connoisseur. Mad Dog was about as far away from a connoisseur of anything as you could get- except maybe pussy. He was an ugly man, nose misshapen from being broken too many times to count, his face wrinkled, the texture and color of leather as a result of riding for years. Looking at him made me think I needed to stop partying so much, maybe get some sleep.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I talked to Guillermo,” he said. “He wants to meet on Tuesday.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea, going to his house? I heard the guy’s fucking crazy.”
“You scared of some Mexican?”
“Fuck you. He's not even Mexican. He's Panamanian. Do you know basic geography?” I asked. “We’re not going to have any protection. Are we sure this guy doesn’t have some kind of beef with us?”