Bennie nodded. “Yeah, remember when the two of you came over and he was bitching like a little girl about the limes not being cold?”
Naggie started laughing and nodded. “Oh my God. Yes, that was embarrassing on so many levels.”
“Honestly, I think he is nothing more than a wannabe.”
Naggie didn’t respond to that, because if she did, it probably wouldn’t be anything nice toward Rob. “You know, I am so pissed, but more than that, I’m hurt.” She would not cry. Oh hell no, she wouldn’t cry, especially not for that asshole.
“Honey, I have totally been there, done that, and don’t care to ever visit it again.”
“You got shafted too?”
Bennie nodded. “Yeah, years ago actually.” She shrugged. “Beat the whore’s ass right there in my bed with her big tits flopping everywhere.” Bennie grinned. “And then I kicked his ass.”
“God, I love you.” Naggie leaned her shoulder into Bennie’s, and they both started laughing. Naggie then proceeded to tell her everything that happened and didn’t mince her words or leave anything out.
The Drifters started playing overhead, and for as out of place as it seemed to be listening to oldies in this Irish-style pub, “This Magic Moment” was a good fucking song.
“Don’t worry. Something a lot better will come along.”
Naggie nodded, because she didn’t have a doubt about that. Any guy who didn’t cheat on their girl was better than Rob, but it still sucked.5Booshie and Tank stood in the back room of O’Henry’s, looking at a very nervous John.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just don’t need the Bastards’ help anymore.”
Booshie was beside Tank and had a toothpick in his mouth. When Booshie looked over at the sergeant at arms, it was to see this sadistic smile on his face.
“So, you think making a verbal agreement with the club means that after only a year, you can back out?” It was a rhetorical question, but clearly John didn’t get that, because he started speaking.
“N-no, I mean, I’m appreciative of what the club has done, but I can’t keep paying when the only threat there ever was has now left.” John was twisting his hands together in front of him. “Besides, after you guys roughed up that gang, it wasn’t like they were going to bother me again anyway.”
Tank tsked. “You know why they call me Tank?” He pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and flicked it aside. “I’ll tell you, so you don’t have to think on it too hard.” Tank pushed away from the wall and took a few steps toward John. “Like a tank, I go through motherfuckers who mess with my club.”
John took a step back and held his hands up. “I told Scars I didn’t want any trouble but that I’m just backing out. No harm no foul.”
Tank looked at Booshie and grinned.
“John, we like you and your little establishment, but you can’t just back out.”
John looked at the ground, clearly thinking about what he was supposed to say.
“Listen.” Booshie took a step forward. “You pay us the weekly fees for the next year, and we will call it even.”
John opened his mouth to say something, maybe to complain that he still couldn’t pay that, but Booshie held his hand up.
“Essentially, you’re breaking a contract, and like any business, you would have to suffer the consequences of breaking said contract, right?”
It took him a moment, but John nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Good, then we have an understanding that we will keep the agreement that is set in place.” Booshie lowered his head slightly but kept his gaze locked on John. “Because I don’t want to have to come back here and kick your fucking ass, John. When I said the club likes you, I meant that, but when you fuck with our revenue, then you are nothing special.”
John swallowed audibly. “Yeah, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to back away from…” He looked between him and Tank and then swallowed again. “I just want to stay away from back-alley stuff.” John retreated a step, and Booshie couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“All right, man.” Booshie walked up to him and gripped his shoulder. “Glad things worked out and we didn’t have to bust kneecaps.” He grinned, but he was far from joking. It wasn’t like they went around doing this shit to every bar owner, but there had to be consequences when a verbal contract was in place. They couldn’t have the rep of being bad motherfuckers if they let every Tom, Dick, and Harry walk all over them.
“Come on, man, I’m thirsty.” Tank placed another toothpick in his mouth, and Booshie followed him out and into the bar. Some oldies music was playing overhead, a few slutty girls were dancing with each other in the center of the room, and the overall bar was pretty packed. “Can you believe that asshole trying to say he couldn’t afford to pay us, when he’s been busy like this every fucking weekend?” Tank prompted, but even in his voice it was clear the man was busy checking out the pussy. “I mean, I’ve seen the numbers he’s been pulling in. The asshole is a lying motherfucker.”