Page 31 of Baker

He rubbed his hands together. “Got it, Bake.”

“A little more planning, and this is going to come together,” I said. “Thanks to Brother Cash, this could be our best haul to date.”

“To Brother Cash,” Ghost said.

Each of the men raised their beer bottles in toast. “To Brother Cash!”

Our club didn’t have dissention in the ranks. There were no cliques, nor was there much variance in opinion. We did bicker and fight at times, but not over anything that really mattered. We were as close as six brothers could be.

I watched as they each took a celebratory drink. The thought of lying to them about Andy churned in the pit of my stomach like a bad plate of Thai food.

It was time for me to make a change.

I simply needed to decide how to do it.

TEN - Andy

The door swung open. Even though I heard Mort coming up the stairs, I acted like I had no idea he’d opened the door.

After pecking at the keyboard for a few seconds, I looked up. “Oh, crap. You scared me. I’m so used to that door being kicked open that I didn’t even hear you come in.”

He pushed against the door, and then gave a slight nod as it went closed. “New door’s quieter’n a mouse pissin’ on a cotton ball.”

I smiled. “That’s pretty quiet.”

“What’d that set us back?”

“The door? I got a guy from Chula Vista to do it. He had a bunch of used doors advertised on Craigslist. I got the door for a hundred. Installation cost two.”

“Shit. The other fucker cost me nine. We’ll keep this quiet, or Kale might end up firing me for being spendy. He’s as Jewish as Challah bread.”

I laughed until I started coughing. When I caught my breath, I shook my head. “What?”

“Kale. He’s tight-fisted with his money. Makes sense, him being Jewish and all.”

I didn’t know he was Jewish. It didn’t matter, but I nodded, nonetheless. “I’ll keep it hush-hush.”

“Sorry I’m late. Been a bitch of a day.” He sat down and then let out an exaggerated sigh. “So. How goes it?”

“Pretty uneventful, really. The guy in 2-A heard some noises coming from 3-A, but I didn’t see anything when I looked the apartment over.”

“The skinny little fag?”

“Oh wow,” I gasped. “You don’t like him?”

“He’s polite as hell. Always pays his rent on time.” He said cheerily. “I like him just fine, why?”

It disappointed me greatly that he’d called Stephen a fag. As with anything that I took exception to, leaving it alone would be impossible. I consciously lowered my tone to keep from being too abrasive.

“Why did you…Well, why did you call him a fag?”

“He’s as queer as a football bat, that’s why. Hell, he doesn’t even try and hide it. See’s that kid that lives upstairs from him. Why, did you think he was cute or something? Gonna try and get him to switch teams?”

I glared at him just enough that he knew I meant business. “Calling someone a queer or a fag is like using the n-word to describe an African American. It’s derogatory, or whatever. It’s insulting. And, to be honest, it’s beyond rude.”

He scratched the sides of his head and gave me a confused stare. “Since when?”

“I don’t know. Since fifty years ago.”