can back me up.” He turned around and tucked in his shirt. Then buttoned things up down below. “There’s only one who can Simonize me.”
V exhaled a stream of smoke and leaned back against a counter that had a tool box and six silver jugs of Valvoline Full Synthetic Advanced 0W-20 motor oil on it.
“That metaphor doesn’t work. I’m not buffing and polishing you.”
“Oh, my God.” Butch clapped his hands. “This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Excuse me?”
“See? You’re smart enough to know about that metaphor thingy not working out. Therefore you are smarter than I am. Henceforth, the logic of you staying the fuck home is more immediately apparent to the likes of you because you’re a fucking brainiac.”
“FYI, you don’t get more points for your argument by tossing around ‘therefore’ and ‘henceforth.’”
“It’s the only recourse an idiot like me has.”
“And the last time someone used the word ‘brainiac’ in a sentence was when Flock of Seagulls was hitting the charts and AT&T was ordered to break up.”
“Thank you, Alex Trebek.” Butch bent down and picked his chest holster up out of the trunk. “And by all means, let’s keep talking. It’s just making me look dumber which is a big help to my side of this debate.”
V seemed nonplussed for a moment. “Are you aware of what you’re saying?”
Strapping on his daggers, handles down, Butch shook his head. “Not a clue. Which is what stupid people do, right? Not smart people. Like you.”
He put his ammo belt around his waist. Stocked the guns on either side. Checked his bullets. Then he put his leather jacket on.
“What about your boots?” V muttered.
“You know, unless you’d mentioned them, I would have forgotten to put them on.”
“Don’t you dare sit your ass down on the front of my car.”
“Not to worry. I might be dumb, but I don’t have a death wish.”
Shutting the hood, Butch parked it on the concrete floor by the front air dam and drew socks on. Put his feet in shitkickers. Laced things up.
He grunted as he went back onto the vertical. Jogging everything into place, he put his hands on his hips and stared across the vacancy of the garage.
“You wanted to kill me the first night we met,” he said.
“Still do.”
“But we’re a long way from that now. And if I’m going to do what I need to out there, I can’t be worried about you.”
As V started to look around, Butch went over to a table and picked up a half-full bottle of Coke. “You ash on the good doctor’s floor, he’s going to operate on something you can’t grow back.”
When he cracked the top, there wasn’t a fizz to be heard or seen. “Here.”
V took what was offered and tapped his hand-rolled over the open neck. “I’m not going to let you die out there.”
“The Omega is going to come after you. That he hasn’t already makes no sense.”
“Maybe he’s not that smart.”
“You know that’s not . . .” Butch rubbed his temples as they started to ache.
“What?”
What had he been saying? “Anyway, you know how your mom left us? The species, I mean.”
“No. I forgot—tell me more. And we shoulda gotten her a fake gold watch for her retirement. Cake that read ‘The Golden Years Are the Best.’ Bouquet of fucking flowers with a card.” V shook his head and spit out a flake of tobacco. “Helluva female, true? Creating all this shit and leaving it in the dust like none of us matter—I mean, the race. Like the race doesn’t matter.”
“But what if she left because she had another job to do.”
V frowned. “Like what.”
“Protecting you.” As V rolled his eyes and started cursing, Butch put up his palm. “Hear me out. The first rule in conflict is finding the weakness in your opponent and exploiting it. The Omega knows what I do and he knows about you. His very existence is at stake. You think he’s not going to do the math and put a target on your back? Eliminate you and what I can do to him is out the door. Problem solved.”
“You’re suggesting that the Scribe Virgin took off so she could watch over me?” V laughed in a short burst. “Yeah, right. My mahmen doesn’t think about me or my sister.”
“I don’t know if I believe that. I think she’s more involved than we know, and I think she came to me to send me a message about your safety.”
“Trust me. It was not about that.”
“Then what