Page 114 of Rough

“What?”

“Brian apologized.”

I clenched my jaw. “Not good enough.”

“Uhhm.” He raised both eyebrows. “Maybe this will be.”

“What?”

“He’s got a new bridge of teeth.” He widened his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “And, they look like Chicklets.”

“New teeth?”

He nodded his head a dozen times in two seconds, and then continued. “And, he’s got a nice scar on his cheek, and a scar on his arm…” He raised his hands in the air and held them two feet apart. “And it’s this long.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Uhhm. Someone beat him to a frazzle.”

“Karma, that’s what that is,” I huffed.

“You call it karma, I call it vengeance.”

“Vengeance?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Serge told me who did it.”

“Do I know him?”

He grinned and nodded his head. “I’ll give you a clue.”

“Okay?”

He rested his cheek against his palm, and tilted his head the side. “You sucked his cock on a motorcycle.”

“What?” I wrinkled my nose at him and stared. “Why do you say that?”

“Because, it was my man Pee Bee. I asked around. He went to The Brass Rail as a poser, and then took Brian outside and beat him up.” He raised his hand and turned his palm toward me. “I swear.”

I shouldn’t have been, but I was excited hearing him say it. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“A hundred percent?”

He leaned forward and raised his index finger to his lips. “Brain admitted it, but he said if I said a word, even one, that Pee Bee guaranteed him he’d come back, kill him, and cook him on a spit.”

“Seriously?”

“Not the spit part, but the rest, yeah.”

“This is going to sound awful,” I said. “Bu that makes me happy.”

“It makes me happy too. I hate it when people talk crap on bikers.”

I rolled my eyes.

“When is the funeral?”