Page 11 of Size Queen
“Sabrina’s best friend, Noelle,” I say. “The brunette.”
“Wow,her?” Kace gasps. “Kudos, mate. Job well done. I figured she must’ve had a boyfriend or baby daddy.”
“She doesn’t have either, according to her,” he says. “We hooked up in the back of the shop Sunday night. It was tight.”
“Nice,” Kace cackles. “You two hooked up since?”
“No, I didn’t get her number,” I admit. “I don’t know why we didn’t. I guess we just got caught up in the moment, you know?”
“I don’t know, man. I got Sabrina’s number the moment I bounced. You want me to get you Noelle’s number?”
“I want her number bad, man,” I say. “But as tempting as it is, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I don’t want her to think I’m a creep or a weirdo.”
“Well, is the sex good?”
“Fuck yeah, dude!” I say. “I felt exactly how you says you felt with Sabrina. Iwantto call her. I want to hit her up.”
“But?” he presses.
“I think it would be incredibly lame and uncool to get her phone number from my friend who’s getting the number from another person whose number I don’t have. I should have gotten it before, and I missed my chance.”
Kace downs the rest of his beer and rolls his eyes at me.
“Yes? How am I wrong?”
“Ijust think it would be incredibly disappointing if you missed out on something good,” says Kace. “Having some regular side could help you stay chill, keep you relaxed. After all, when are we not involved in sort of drama withsomeone.”
“Good point,” I say. “I just don’t want to pressure her. Going through you, asking her friend for her number—she’ll feel obligated to give it to me. I want it willingly.”
“Don’t we all,” Kace laughs. “If that’s what you want, so be it. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Will do,” I say. “Speaking of drama: Is it really true? Did Tom Wright seriously open up a motorcycle shop downtown?”
Kace nods. “Nobody ever sees him there, but his name is attached to it. It’s definitely him, and he’s absolutely trying to piss you off.”
Tom Wright is the head of a rival gang here in Miami: the Hell-Snakes. We’ve never had altercations, and the worst exchanges we share are typically just angry looks. Lately, though, tensions have been brewing.
We can’t prove it, but we’re starting to suspect that the Hell-Snakes are contemplating moving in on our turf. They usually never ride in our part of town, and we stay out of theirs. Sometimes we can hear them in the distance as they travel across the interstate, or vice versa.
Lately, though, Hell-Snakes are being spotted on a frequent basis at various parts of our section of Miami. They never stop their bikes, they never park and get off, and they never speak to anyone whenever they’re here.
We don’t like it. It never seems like a careless joyride through the city—whenever one of us sees a Hell-Snake, we get the sense that he’s doing recon work. If they are indeed casing us, we know we’re going to have to act soon.
“I’m just waiting for one of those sons of bitches to get off his bike and face us like men,” I say. “I keep thinking the day’s gonna come.”
“I say we send a message,” says Kace. “Got something good in mind, boss?”
“I say we need to hold off.”
“Okay… I know I said you needed to be relaxed,” he says slowly, “but I didn’t mean that you had to ignore a threat—”
“I’m not ignoring anything, Kace,” I assure him. “I’m being patient.”
“I say we burn the fuckers to the ground!” Spencer calls out.
A few of the others murmur in general agreement.
“You’re getting too ahead of yourselves,” I say. “Maybe they’re just being dicks. There’s no reason to jump to conclusions when they haven’t even done anything yet.”