the printing press holds his Dungeons and Dragons meetings there at night. I was a fucking elf on a quest for six fucking weeks until I was able to sneak away and get it printed.” He sighs and looks to the ceiling with regret in his eyes. “I never even got a chance to find the diary of Princess Elfington and release its powers back into the world, restoring the basic rights and magical powers to all of the little elven boys and girls throughout The Kingdom of CopyStoreland.”
“I read your shit,” I offer. Not only did I read it, but so did Mickey. I catch myself about to smile, remembering the shock on her face when she found Preppy’s oddly worded manifesto on the passenger seat of my truck.
Preppy nods. “Okay, then you should know the rules. You didn’t marry her, so the bitch has got to go.” He takes a joint from the pocket of his button-down and lights it. “And, just to clarify, you know by go I mean you gotta kill her.”
“Yeah, I think we understood you the first time,” Nine says, plucking the joint from Preppy’s hand and taking a deep drag.
Preppy snatches it back. “Well, I like to be as clear as possible. The key to good relationships is good communication.” He passes me the joint.
I take a deep drag and allow the smoke to burn down my throat into my lungs. Maybe, if I get as high as possible, I’ll come up with a solution to all this shit. Worst case scenario, at least, I might be able to fall asleep tonight without dreaming about Mickey.
Nine raises an eyebrow at his brother.
“What?” Preppy gives him a one shoulder shrug. “I’m reading a few relationship books here and there. I want to be able to keep my woman happy both in and out of the sex swing. You should give them a try. Maybe, Poe will like you better.”
“She likes me just fine,” Nine argues.
“Something wrong with Poe?” I ask. “I thought you said she’d stopped drinking.”
“Everything’s fine.” Nine scratches at the stubble on his jaw. “Preppy just assumes that any girl who is with me doesn’t really like me.”
“You’re just not as sexy as I am. It’s okay to live the rest of your life in my shadow. It’s a great place to live. Very roomy. High crime rate, but the food and blow are excellent,” Preppy ruffles his brother’s hair.
Nine responds with an elbow to Preppy’s side.
“How…forward thinking of you,” Nine says, carefully choosing his words. “To be reading books about how to please your woman.”
“I’m nothing if not ever evolving and learning new things.” He looks to me and blows out a long stream of smoke into the air. “Now, if I can just get Pikey boy here to understand that he got played, we can get to digging a hole, and my job here will be done.”
“We don’t know that yet,” I argue, turning the bottle around on my knee.
Preppy leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Hear me out. Mickey’s a snitch. She admitted as much to the both of you. She talked to the FEDS about Percy and wore a wire while he was in jail. A snitch who also admits to manipulating the Logan’s Beach equivalent of the fucking Klan for her own purposes for years, and if that isn’t true, it means you, Pike, are the one she’s been manipulating. A snitch, who although is smart, loses her mind on occasion and either thinks her family is still alive, or talks to apparitions she sees before her? How am I doing so far?”
Nine and I exchange looks that say, Well, he’s not wrong.
Preppy continues. “It’s simple. Mickey played you, and she’s a snitch, and according to the rhyme, at the very least, she needs to get a beat-down, because you know, snitches get—”
“Stitches,” Nine finishes. “We know how it goes.”
“It can’t be simpler than laid out for you in rhyme format, yet I’m still not sure you two boys are fully comprehending what I’m trying to say here. Shall I put it in a song?” Preppy clears his throat. “Me, me, me, me, motherfuuucking meeeeeeee….”
I raise my hand to stop him before his warm-up leads to a song I won’t be able to get him to stop singing or worse, out of my head. Preppy is a crazy fucker who lives by his own set of misguided rules with no reasons behind them that anyone else