Page 18 of Misguided
“I’ve been meaning to have a word with you for a few days,” Callum says, sparking up a smoke. “Want one?” He offers his pack my way, and I take a stick.
His flame licks the end of my cigarette. “What about?”
“King said you still haven’t detailed your next of kin.”
Bingo.There it is. The integral missing piece that’ll ruin the entire puzzle. “So?”
“So, square that shit up, brother.”
I know why he’s been tasked with it; I’ve danced around the subject with King since I was patched in almost a year ago. He holds records on all of us, just in case.
All of us, except me: Koen von Essen.
“Why are you worried about it?” Callum asks, smoke curling around his fingers as he takes a drag.
He shows no sign of emotion as I catch his eye, my frown giving away everything he needs to know. How long did I think I could hide this for?
“If anything happened to me,” I explain, “there’s nobody who would care.”
“Hey,” Callum says with a twist of his lips. “You’re not the first orphan we’ve had. If that’s the case, just let him know.”
“Yeah, sure.” Why didn’t I think of that as an excuse? Easy enough.
“He needs your social security, too.”
“Why?” That I can’t explain away so easily.
“If you want a steady income, he has to put you through the books, man.”
Shit.I forgot about that. I asked King a few months back, when work started getting quiet after Sawyer took out Carlos, if there was any chance of above-the-board employment. I’m not averse to breaking the law, but when the cash jobs are few and far between, a man needs something else to fund his lifestyle choices.
“Yeah, okay.” I flick the cigarette more times than necessary, staring down at my boots.
“What’s up, man?”
I don’t need to look at Callum to know how he currently eyeballs me.
“Nothing. I literally just forgot.” I suck hard on the smoke a few times to finish it off and then stomp it out under my boot. “We gonna eat or what?”
“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, stamping out his own cigarette.
I blitz into the diner first, narrowly missing bowling over a mom and her little boy in my haste.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” I lift both hands and back up a couple of steps, showing I mean no harm.
“Don’t sweat it.”
Holy shit. Didn’t pick the tidy brunette as a mom. “If you’re sure.”
Callum clips me around the head on his way past. “Watch where you’re goin’, dipshit.”
The mom eyes him as he glides past between us toward the counter. “He always that rude to you?”
“It’s how he shows love,” I tease, giving her a wink. Better calm that shit down before she thinks you’ve got Tourette’s.
“Catch you around then.” She looks down to her boy, tugging on his hand a little. “Come on, buddy.”
I appreciate the view as she leaves, her ass encased in a nice pair of tight black shorts. Yet, there’s no drive to chase her down, attempt to get a number. I’m curious, but I’m not keen.