Wind Therapy - A.J. Downey Page 0,15
what I lacked in pure brawn, I made up for in speed and it was handy to be underestimated. Made it the last mistake a motherfucker ever made more often than not.
I took after my mother in body and looks, much to my father’s disappointment. He was a real chip of the ol’ eastern bloc. Must be strong! Like bull! Unfortunately, strong like bull almost always equated to dumb like ox, and I preferred using brains over brawn.
He hated me for that, and truth be told, I was alright with that. The feeling was beyond mutual. I hated my father’s guts with the fire of a thousand suns and had zero fucking regrets about it.
He had his little criminal enterprise, and I had mine. We mostly stayed the fuck out of each other’s way. It suited us.
I went back out to the front and Marisol brought me a steaming mug of coffee from the pot.
“Cream or sugar?” she asked.
“Nah, black is fine,” I said and sniffed, my nose starting to run and the sinus pressure starting to dissipate. I took the mug from her, wrapping my long fingers around the heated ceramic and blew across its surface, my eyes following Marisol as she went back behind the bar. I couldn’t wait to have her naked and underneath me, to where I could blow across the smooth surface of her skin and see if I could get it to pebble with arousal beneath my touch.
I sucked down some of the bitter brew, wincing, and looked toward the door and the remaining Eastern Washington boys coming through.
Skeeter looked about as rough as I felt, and I could tell he was a good man, running interference with Goner and Derry, who probably didn’t enjoy feeling like outsiders. I felt for them, I really did. I mean, I was pretty sure I trusted they were solid members still in good standing, but it wasn’t up to me. It was up to us. All of us in the Western Washington chapter to decide if we wanted to grow by three seats. Then it was up to National to give us blessing to do it.
Bylaws were bylaws, and we needed to follow them. Sometimes, it felt like trading one ‘man’ for another, but still, this life was a life played by our own rules for the most part and I would take that over society’s bullshit rules any day.
“You guys comin’ over the mountains with us then?” Fenris asked, and we were met with three somber and weary nods.
“Was up all night talking about it,” Skeeter said.
“Feels like we’re all starting from square one.” Derry sounded unhappy.
“Watch yourselves,” I reminded them and gave a side-eyed glance to Marisol.
“Who’s she gonna tell?” Goner asked.
“You need to ask that, you’re missing the fuckin’ point,” Skeeter answered him in a growl and there was the crux of it.
Derry and Goner looked to Skeeter for leadership. My chapter already had leaders. Me, and Glass Jaw respectively. I raised an eyebrow at Skeeter who caught my eye and nodded. Good, he understood where I was coming from and to be fair, his comment could have been interpreted one of two ways.
“Nine and I have got some room at our place for at least one of you comfortably,” Squatch said. “Been looking for a third housemate.”
“I’m a bit off the beaten path but my pops and I got room,” Fenris offered up.
“For how many?” Derry asked.
“For you, country boy. My pops turned to goat farming of all the fuckin’ things after he retired. Looks like you know your way around a farm.”
“Baby goats?” Marisol said and perked up.
Fen smiled and nodded. “Usually around January and February, but yeah. We got a kid or two running around the place right now on the edge of being all grown up.”
“Awww!” It was the first crack in that hard, placid surface of hers that I’d seen since the one she’d formed in the face of her brother crying and I had to say, I much preferred this one.
“Dairy or meat?” Derringer asked casually.
“What do you think?” Fen asked and Derry nodded.
No sense in putting it out there these goats were being raised for slaughter. Why dash Marisol’s happy just as soon as she’d expressed it? Girl was clever, and figured it out for herself, her smile slipping into an expression of really guys?
“Pops rents a bunch of them out for briar patch control. It’s a full-time business and he ain’t getting any younger,” Fenris said