“Don’t come any further,” the guy in the middle said, pointing the blade at Monty. “I fucking mean it. Stay right there or I’ll cut this old fuck’s neck wide open.”
“That would be your second mistake,” I said, dropping the sack of trash.
“Oh, yeah? What was my first one? Lemme guess,” he said, laughing. “Messing with a garbage man?”
“Your first mistake was being a cliché. The oldest one in the book, actually,” I replied, causing Monty to chuckle.
“What the fuck are you laughing at, old man?” he asked, stepping closer to Monty, bringing the blade directly to his neck.
“He’s laughing because he knows you’re the dumb fuck who brought a knife to a gunfight,” I said, pulling my snub-nosed .38 revolver from the back of my waistband and leveling it at his head.
As soon as I pulled my piece Monty grabbed the man’s wrist and delivered a right elbow directly to his jaw, knocking him unconscious. As soon as he and his knife hit the ground, the other two men took off running.
“You feel like chasing them?” I asked Monty.
“Fuck no. You?” he asked.
“I’d rather go back inside and see if there’s any more of that razzleberry pie left,” I replied.
“Sounds good to me,” Monty said with a cool grin.
“Good. Help me throw away this trash, will ya?” I asked, tossing the sack into the dumpster.
I then grabbed our would-be stick-up man under the arms while Monty took his feet, and together we hoisted him into the dumpster before closing the lid and securing the latch. He wasn’t getting out of there anytime soon.
“I’ll make an anonymous call to 9-1-1 in an hour or two.”
“What are you gonna say?” Monty said.
“That some meth head managed to lock himself in a dumpster outside the Starlight diner,” I said.
“Works for me.”
“You know,” I said. “As a man who just had a ten-inch blade at his throat, you don’t seem all that rattled.”
“Ain’t even close to the first time I’ve had a knife held on me. Inside or outside the joint.”
“I figured you’d done some time.”
He cocked his head. “Why’s that?”
“Little things. The way you carry yourself. Hands in front of you at all times. Eyes scanning the area for blind spots.”
“I’ve done my time, but that’s not me anymore.”
“You’ll get no judgment from me,” I said, raising my hands.
“How ’bout you?” Monty asked. “You been locked up?”
“Nothing serious. County bullshit. But some of our older brothers have spent some time down-state.”
“I heard you tell Rowan your club was more like the Boy Scouts compared to how most people picture motorcycle gangs.”
“Well, I may have…”
“Stretched the truth a little bit so Rowan would like you more?”
I said nothing but smiled.