Page 469 of Devil’s Disciples

“Skeevies.”

“Underwear?” I asked. “Nope. Can’t stand the fuckers.”

He chuckled. “Jer a fahnny fahker.”

As comfortable as if I were at home, I walked to the pool and dove in. A moment later Crip sauntered to the pool and joined me.

Up to my neck in the stranger’s pool, I watched as his brother rifled through my backpack and jeans. Purposely, I hadn’t carried a wallet. I wasn’t interested in having him know who I was and where I lived. Upon satisfying himself, Mister Mustache walked around the edge of the house, backpack in tow.

Manos strolled to the edge of the pool lowered himself to a squat.

“Jew two Güeros want fifteen hundred kilos?” he asked. “Who the fahk wants fifteen hundred kilos?”

“I hate spending money,” I said with a laugh. “I’ve got to buy in bulk to get a good price.”

One eyebrow raised. “What’s a good price?”

“Ten grand a kilo.”

He whistled through his teeth and shook his head. “Fifteen. Maybe twelve. Not ten.”

“My contact with Tijuana said fifteen hundred at ten grand a kilo. If I can’t get it at ten grand with that quantity, I’ll drag my naked ass out of this pool, get dressed, and do business elsewhere.”

He scratched his goatee. “Who is theese contact?”

“El Pollo.”

“Do jew know where El Pollo ees?” he asked without emotion.

I shook my head. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I picked up fifty kilos from him on Tuesday, He hasn’t answered his phone since.”

He gave me a side-eyed look. “Jew got fifty on Tuesday?”

“Fifty and a promise of fifteen hundred in two weeks.”

He laughed. “Two weeks?”

“That was the agreement.”

“How long for jew to get eighteen million, Meester Wood?”

I swam to where he was and rested my arms over the edge of the pool. “I’m not going to give you eighteen million,” I said adamantly. “That’s twelve grand a kilo. I’ll give you ten. Fifteen million, not a fucking cent more.”

He chuckled. “Jew don’t have to get sheety with me.”

“I’m not getting shitty,” I said. “Like I said. I hate spending money. Ten grand’s all I’ll pay if I’m buying in quantity.”

He looked at Crip and then at me. “Jew still hungry?”

“That depends. Do I have to eat naked?”

“Jer fahnny, Meester Wood, but I don’t like jer name.”

“I don’t care much for it, either. I’m stuck with it, though.”

“I have a new one for jew. A better one.”

“A new name?”