Stay Vertical (17 page)

Maddy and I exchanged a look that said
uh-oh
. I had my own reasons for being afraid of what Ford was talking about. As far as I knew, The Bare Bones had no idea Lytton was working for The Cutlasses.

This bucolic idea went out the window when Ford added, “I believe you if you say my fuckwad brother was spotted with Zelov and Weaver. They’ve been trying to get his product for years, so he probably caved and went over to the other side. Well, as far as I’m concerned, Driving Hawk’s got a huge target on his back. If he had anything to do with this fucking fucked-up heist, he’s actively against the family. We’ve got to kill that alliance now.”

Uh-oh.
The truck job.
I told Maddy from the corner of my mouth, “I guess we’d better not go light up that bowl.”

“Nuh-uh,” Maddy agreed.

Ford angrily jammed the END button on his phone and focused all his ire directly on me. “This is club business, sister, so it doesn’t leave this room. A truck coming from Ochoa’s pot plantation was just jacked near Show Low and the driver killed.”

I gasped.
Killed?
From what little I’d heard of the plan, I did not think that was part of it. I hadn’t dwelled much on it, but I could
never
imagine Lytton killing anyone. He would never wear the “Filthy Few” patch like Ford had since age seventeen. Lytton had a worse childhood than Ford, but he had a more sensitive demeanor. He may have been a scrapper, a fighter as a teen, but now he was just a mellow pot farmer. I’d even seen a Grateful Dead CD in his house, next to Great White, Lynryd Skynyrd, and Los Lobos discs.

Don’t get me wrong. Lytton was bad to the bone, just like Ford. He just had an acute sensitivity to the world around him. He may have been somewhat of a selfish jerk when I first ran into him, but already I’d seen changes in him. My self-esteem wasn’t high enough to think I had anything to do with his transformation, though.

Maddy stepped up for me. “Why are you angry at her, Ford? Do you think she had any knowledge of it?”

Ford narrowed one eye at me, assessing. “I don’t know.
Did
you have any knowledge?”

Jesus Criminey! He was sure putting me on the spot. Luckily, Lytton had a similar secretive credo as Ford, and I barely knew anything. “I just knew there was a truck job. That’s it. A truck job. That could mean anything.”

Ford arched his eyebrow even higher. “So he
is
in bed with The Cutlasses?”

Again, Maddy defended me. “Ford! She knows nothing other than what she told you. You know how it is. Do you think he runs around discussing club business in bed? Old ladies never know anything, to maintain their plausible deniability.”

Ford nodded at his wife. “Well played.” Behind him, the handsome French Canadian Faux Pas and the inked rebel with the high and tight hair, Ziggy, had never looked more menacing. Faux Pas had just come into a fortune by taking Slushy’s advice and designing a zombie video game. It was so realistic due to Faux Pas’ proclivity for gore that instead of being a money laundering scheme, it had actually made a mint. I had seen these guys goofing around, playing air guitar at concerts, cooking, kissing their old ladies, sitting on toilets, but right now they just looked downright menacing.

Maddy took the ball and ran with it. “Anyway, why would Lytton kill an Ochoa driver, even if he
was
in on the heist? That sounds more like the work of that Isosceles Weaver asshole.”

Everyone nodded then. “True,” said Turk. “Iso Weaver likes to take guys to the ground just for the hell of it, even when it doesn’t make good business sense.”

“Yes,” said Faux Pas. “Remember that time Weaver killed that Baal’s Minion and rolled him up inside the gym mat at Gold’s?”

“Right,” reminisced Ziggy. “They were workout buddies, but Iso got mad the guy had lost more weight than him.”

Turk added, “And it’s widely known Weaver put down that guy who showed up on Google Maps.”

“Right,” said Maddy. She explained to me, “The Google Maps satellite picked up a dead body on the railroad tracks between here and Cottonwood. At first everyone thought it was just some bum, some meth addict, but then Iso’s stamp was found on his forehead.”

“Stamp?”

Maddy said, “He wears this coat of arms signet ring, claims it’s from his father’s Scottish ancestry or whatever. He likes to leave his stamp on his victim’s foreheads. It’s got a shield or something.”

I actually became nauseous when Maddy said that. It reminded me of how Iso had looked at me in the greenhouse when I hadn’t pulled my tank down yet—or even
after
I’d pulled it down. He had still leered, almost as though he was taunting Lytton to do something about it. Lytton had, as far as I was concerned, shooing the guy out of the greenhouse. It was no big deal. Every club had their perverts, I imagined. The Bare Bones used to have a sergeant-at-arms named Riker. Some people walked around with toilet paper stuck to his foot, but that guy had showed up for a meeting at Ingrid’s once with an anal douche bulb sticking out of his back pocket. I knew, because Madison had told me what it was. And what it was for.

Ford said, “Yeah, that Google Maps thing was unfortunate. Goes to show how technology can nail you these days. Regardless.” He sliced the air with his hand. “June, I can’t stop you from seeing that colossal toolbag Lytton. Women are going to go where their rampaging hormones tell them to.”

“Hey!” cried Madison.

Now Ford pointed at Maddy. “You. I’ve got to get over to Ochoa’s and get more intel on this job that went totally sideways. Of course they stole our entire shipment of product for Joint Effort. Julie and Brunhilda are down the hall in the nursery with Fidelia but they can only watch her for another hour.”

The men turned on their boot heels and clomped down the echoing hallway like an invading horde of barbarian Tartars. Turk was the last to go, actually touching me on the shoulder. “I love you, June, but you’ve seriously got to rethink your alliance with that guy.”

I probably muttered something like, “Yeah, sure, whatever,” and Turk was gone too. I said to Maddy, “I guess that ruins our plans for the vortex. I’d better get over to Ingrid’s anyway.”

I’ll have to admit, I didn’t even go to Ingrid’s. She already had enough weed to last another few days, and to be honest, I couldn’t wait to get back to Lytton’s. It was a good excuse to bust on in, having heard about the murder, being concerned.

It was almost completely dark when I passed by Mormon Lake in my “cage” and started up the mountain. Lytton had given me the pass code for the front gate—another good sign if ever I saw one. Even more important, he’d agreed to pay for Ingrid’s hospice and I had a move in date for her all set. That had hugely alleviated any sense of guilt I’d been feeling.

What did I think I was doing, consorting with the sworn enemy of my sister’s husband? Ford Illuminati was a powerful man in the Pure and Easy area and beyond. The P & E Bare Bones charter was the dominant charter, but there were others, for instance in Flagstaff, Prescott, and Phoenix. Once a month they’d have an enormous fish fry and hold a “church” meeting at the Citadel with all the brothers. It was something to behold, a hundred and fifty leather-clad, inked rowdies all coming together like that, the airfield runway a sea of chrome and black. Knowing Ford was President of the dominant charter made me flush with pride, so I knew what I was doing shouldn’t be taken lightly.

But it wasn’t just a cheesy fling. I’d known I was seriously, gut-wrenchingly in love with Lytton Driving Hawk for awhile now. My every thought was sucked up by him. I’d changed my clothing and appearance to embrace the image I thought would arouse him. Hell, I even bought some Kush essential oil to dab behind my ears, thinking that on some subliminal level Lytton would be attracted to me smelling like a marijuana plant. Even if he wasn’t consciously aware of it, I figured that scent would remind him of fortune and fame.

Was I stupid enough to
tell Lytton
that I loved him? Not on your fucking life. Because I knew he didn’t love me back.

He was too wrapped up in his inner turmoil, his vendetta against his brother and The Bare Bones. He didn’t have much time or room in his brain for me. Instead of moving on with things, he’d stagnated in his rage. When he found out his father was Cropper Illuminati, he’d also discovered his brother had buried him. I just wanted to be there for him when he inevitably gave it a rest, failed in his vengeance, or came around to Ford’s side of things. I really hoped the latter.

Tobiah’s hawk nose stuck out like a toucan’s beak from under his bowl of hair. Even so, I could tell his face was white with fear. “He’s in the family room with Iso, but really June, I think you want to tread lightly.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I heard about the dead driver. Who did it, do you know?”

“I wasn’t there, luckily.” Toby’s voice trilled with nerves. “But it was Iso who took out that beaner driver. As far as I could tell, he had no fucking reason to. The guy got out of the truck all right when they told him to while they jacked all his medicine. Iso’s laughing how he just shot the guy through the forehead because the cholo was playing mariachi music and had a Tweety Bird sticker in the side window. I fucking
told
Lytton no good would come of this association with The Cutlasses. He’s blinded by revenge, June. We don’t need to bury The Bare Bones to make more money. Hell, Lytton doesn’t
need
more money. Do you know how much we pull in a month here? I’m helping him with this one more job and that’s
it
, June, I’m telling you.”

“What one more job?”

“Oh…nothing major, really. I just have to pay an innocent visit to your friend Turk at the—never mind. Let’s just say I enjoy stretching my acting chops.” Holding a hand to his stomach proudly, Toby relaxed for the first time since he’d opened the door. “I was a pretty major player in theater arts at MIT. ‘How can he find himself on a farm? Is that a life? A farmhand? In the beginning, when he was young, I thought, well, a young man, it’s good for him to tramp around, take a lot of different jobs. But it’s more than ten years now and he has yet to make thirty-five dollars a week!’”

I was eager to see Lytton, not listen to a revival of
Death of a Salesman
, so I said, “Is anyone going to get caught for icing the driver?”

“Not that I know of, but Iso’s kind of hiding out here for awhile just in case, to keep the heat off The Cutlasses. Look, it’s no secret that I like you and Lytton together. I want him to eventually reconcile with his brother. We could work hand in hand with The Bare Bones. I’m not overly fond of The Cutlasses, seeing as how they’ve been trying to rob us for years. Especially a guy who would take out a cholo just because he had a stuffed tiger tied to his bumper.”

“June, hey!” Lytton was being overly hearty as he strode down the hallway. He had that demeanor of someone who is trying to steer the attention off something else. He even put his hands on my shoulders and literally walked me toward the stairs.

I tried not to be such a pushover. “Lytton, hey, I heard the job went south today.” I knew it wasn’t a woman’s place to ask about business, but I wanted to be sure he had no hand in the murder.

He put his hands on his hips. “Went south, yeah, if you want to call it that. Is that word all over the fucking street?”

“Well, the street that leads to The Bare Bones’ distributor at least. You…didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

“Me? No, of course not. Iso just got…carried a bit away…”

“
Hey!
” Iso appeared in the hallway like Fonzie, rocking his leather cut and giving the thumbs up—to my boobs, apparently. I had come straight from the children’s party without changing, so I was innocently wearing a flowered, flippy little dress that did display a bit of cleavage. It was just a dress I thought looked girlish, but suddenly now I felt slutty. “If it isn’t my favorite curvy pass-around.”

Lytton tried to stand in between us. “She’s no pass-around, Weaver.”

Iso peeked around Lytton’s arm. He formed his hands into the shape of my boobs. “Whatever. You said she’s not your old lady, so how’s about sharing the wealth, buddy?”

Lytton reached around the small of his back. I saw the grip of a pistol where the piece was lodged into the waistband of his jeans. His fingers wiggled as though he itched to squeeze the trigger. I felt Toby, standing next to me, tense and hold his breath. I knew Lytton usually—or always—packed a gun to protect his farm against marauders just like Iso.

Lytton’s left hand went toward Iso, palm out, like a crossing guard. “Back off, dirtbag. You’ve got plenty of sweetbutt pussy back at your clubhouse, only Zelov told me to keep you here for a couple days. So my house, my rules. Get back to your video game.”

Iso’s face fell. “Aw. I’m already getting bored with that Minecraft game.” I could hear Crybaby and Helium Head back in the family room, yelling at each other about moon stones and frameworks.

Toby boldly stepped out from my shadow. “I’ll show you how to build a spaceship to the moon.”

That seemed to cheer Iso up. “Oh, righteous. Is this what you’re going to trick that pretty boy with tomorrow? A spaceship?”

I had beyond no clue what Iso referred to, but Toby was already gingerly plucking Iso’s sleeve to lead him back down the hallway. Iso yelled at us over his shoulder,

“Did you schedule an inspection with your friend from the Health Department?”

Lytton waved. “I got it, Iso. It’s all under control.”

I thought Lytton would shuttle me back out the front door, tell me everything was okay, and to go home and be a good little girl. But he didn’t.

Facing me squarely, he smiled down at me. He was so devilishly handsome he just won me over with his dazzling smile. His warm woodsy scent enveloped me and gave me a strange sense of security. I felt safe with Lytton. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

“Oh, yeah? Well—”

He whisked me up the stairs so fast my head was practically left behind in the foyer. Within seconds we were back in the large, airy bedroom where he’d cared for me when I was sick. The sheets were all rumpled, as though he hadn’t expected any company, but I knew he hadn’t had any slaves up here, sluts or otherwise. A woman can sense these things.