“Come on, man. She’s just a fucking pussy who likes begging for dick. Hell, she didn’t even know you when I had her. This is crazy.”
I close my eyes, my hand tightening on my gun.
“Dude, you need to shut the fuck up. My man Grunt, here, is going to make this painless for you, but you keep it up and it will go the other way in a fucking hurry.”
“Think about this,” Lagger says, ignoring Jonesy’s very wise advice. “If you go to prison, you’re going to be leaving your daughter without a father. It won’t matter about Jasmine because you won’t be here for her either,” the fucker adds. “You do not want to do this.”
“Mention her name again and you’re dead. You will disappear and there won’t be anything left of your body for anyone to find, let alone charge someone with murder.”
“There’s no way you can pull that off,” he denies, but he knows the truth—it’s written on his face.
“Come on, dude, you’ve pissed off not one but three fucking clubs by hurting Jasmine. Did you really think you wouldn’t die from that shit? The only question is how you’re going to die,” Jonesy adds.
“I say we throw him in a wood chipper and then feed him to the pigs that Sawbone always insists our club keeps,” Ford says, speaking up for the first time.
“Damn it, Ford, the last time we did that the guy screamed for twenty minutes. If you do that this time, you need to shoot the fucker first. Or at least go headfirst into the chipper. And I’m not cleaning that shit up this time.
“Shut up whining, Sledge. You enjoyed that shit as much as I did,” Ford laughs.
That’s when it hits Lagger that they’re not kidding.
“I have a family to get home to. That means I want to make this quick. So, you’re going to make your decision, or I’ll let my boys make it for you, Lagger. You can choose to take the pills in that baggy and wash ’em down with that bottle of cheap ass whiskey, or you can choose to go the difficult route. I’m warning you however, that the first option is your best shot at dying easily.”
“Don’t—”
“Either way, you are dying. So, decide,” I respond, interrupting him.
He doesn’t talk. He just stands there looking at me, like I’m going to change my mind.
“Clock’s ticking asshole,” Ford says, coming to stand beside me. I don’t blink. I just keep staring at Lagger, waiting. I know what he’s going to choose. I know how these assholes always go. He’s too weak to stand up and be a man, even when it counts.
There’s silence for a few more minutes. I’m tired and I want to get back to my girls. I’ve been spending too much time away from them while tracking these assholes down. I had my gun down, waiting, but since it’s clear this asshole is going to stall as long as he can, I bring it back up.
“Let’s load him up. Sawbone can feed his pets,” I growl. “I got a family to get home to.”
“Damn it,” Sledge grumbles. “You’re cleaning up the chipper. That damn brain matter sticks everywhere.”
Lagger reaches out, his hand trembling, grabbing the bag.
“What’s in this?” he asks, as if he has a choice.
“That right there is X, dude—the good stuff. You’ll enjoy yourself first, which I think is too damn good for you, but I was out-voted,” Jonesy laughs.
“Ecstasy?” Lagger asks, shaking so hard that it takes him a couple of times just to get the whiskey opened.
“Yeah, you and your buddies here are going to have a butt party before you die.”
“Christ, do I have to watch this shit? I don’t have nothing against it if that’s your speed, but it doesn’t mean I want to watch a live porno version of it,” Sledge growls.
“You complain more than any man I know,” Ford laughs, although there’s no humor in it. Suck it up, watch and go home and take your frustrations out on Gina.”
“I’d rather chop my own dick off at this point,” Sledge says and that gets everyone’s attention, although we don’t question him about it. He’ll tell us when or if he wants us to know.
Lagger swallows down all the pills, just like I knew the asshole would. While we’re waiting, Jonesy holds up another bag. This one he will snort. Sadly, that might make him feel too good. It also might not kill him. If it doesn’t, the third bag Jonesy has will and that shit is bad. He’ll die and die painfully. It will look like he just got a bad dose of illegal narcotics. That’s the one I’m hoping he’ll end up having to get before his sorry life ends.
I can see when the drugs start to take effect. I sit there and watch, never wavering. I sit there through it all and when I inject Lagger with the bad drugs to end his miserable life, I don’t get much pleasure out of it. I inject the needle into his vein, using Lagger’s own hand to press the needle in so that it is self-inflicted—or at least looks that way to a coroner.