Page 511 of Devil’s Disciples

“What about me’s funny?”

“The fact you’re with a woman.”

“Get used to it,” I said. “She ain’t going anywhere any time soon.”

He slapped me on the shoulder. “Just hard getting used to it.”

“Hard getting used to seeing you with Andy, too, but you don’t hear me talking shit and calling her your girl. I call her Andy.”

“I’ll call her Carma from here on out.”

“Appreciate it.”

While I stood in the eternal line that led into the building, a hand slapped against my back, nearly knocking me into the man standing in front of me.

“What’s shakin’, motherfucker?”

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I straightened my stance. “What’s going on, Pee Bee?”

He glanced around and then shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just waiting for this to thin out a bit. Not big on riding forty fucking miles an hour.”

“We should stick around until it thins out,” Baker suggested.

“I’m fine with that, just have to have Carma back to Chula Vista by six.”

Pee Bee slapped me again. “I knew you’d end up with that chick the night we went in there,” Pee Bee said.

Baker stepped out of line and looked me up and down.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at?” I asked.

“Waiting for you to jump his ass,” he said. “He called her that chick.”

“There’s a difference,” I said.

“What? That’s he’s big, and I’m not? Afraid to say something to him because he’s big enough to tell you to go fuck yourself?”

“I’m not afraid of this big prick,” I said. “If he stepped out of line, I’d put him in his place. There’s a difference between saying I’d end up with that chick and saying how’s your girl holding up.”

“I don’t see what it is.”

I rolled my eyes. “If he said, ‘that chick on the back of your bike on the way up here looked like she was having fun,’ I’d say, ‘she’s got a name, motherfucker.’ But, he didn’t. He was referring to her in a different context.”

“You sound like Tito.”

“I sound like I know what I’m talking about.”

“I have no idea what you two fuckers are talking about,” Pee Bee said.

“Talking about calling a man’s Ol’ Lady something other than her name,” I explained. “Something derogatory.”

“You can call Tegan anything you want, as long as it’s not a bitch,” he said. “If you do that, it’s not me you’ll have to worry about. It’s her.”

I’d heard the story about her kicking his ass on the porch and laughed at the thought.

“I still don’t see the difference,” Baker said.

“You don’t have to,” I explained. “She’s not your Ol’ Lady.”