Page 70 of Goose

Tito’s heart was as soft as a teddy bear, but he had the temperament of a badger. His dry sense of humor and willingness to challenge Cash on any and everything made being in his presence entertaining.

“Are we done here?” Baker asked.

“Unless you want to stick around and watch him bake, I think we’re done,” Crip responded. He glanced through the doors of the clubhouse, toward the outside parking area. “Want to tell me why the three of you are rattling around in a cage on a sunny Sunday afternoon?”

“Cash and Reno took his truck to the IHOP off the 5,” Baker said. “We’re picking them up there.”

Crip cocked an eyebrow. “Want to tell me why the five of you are rattling around in a cage on a sunny Sunday afternoon?”

“We’re headed to a job,” Baker said. “It’s a five-hour drive.”

“Banks are closed,” Crip said with a laugh. “You fellas doing liquor stores now?”

I chuckled. “I’ll retire before I’m reduced to that.”

Crip extended his hand. “I’ll stop asking.”

I shook his hand. He glanced at the kiln. “You want me to dump that shit it an urn, or just sprinkle it out in the ocean amongst a school of dolphins while the sun sets?”

“Pod,” Tito said. “Groups of dolphins are a pod.”

Crip shot Tito a glare, and then glanced at Baker. “Yeah, he’d get real old real fuckin’ quick around here.”

“Until you need to hack into the FBI’s mainframe,” Tito said. “Then, he comes in real handy real fuckin’ quick.”

“FBI?” Crip’s eyes narrowed. “No shit?”

Tito grinned and offered his hand. “I appreciate the help. Let me know if you ever need anything. I mean it.”

Crip shook it. “I’m sure at some point I’ll need something.”

I didn’t know Crip very well, but for some reason, I believed he was probably right. His club, eventually, would get themselves into some serious shit. When that time came, lending a helping hand would be least we could do.