Bullets Are My Business (9781101616413) by Josh K. Stevens Page A

what?”
    Jacks sighs exasperatedly. “Did you two get it on?”
    â€œNo, Jacks, we didn’t consummate our new relationship,” I tell him. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was pretty banged up and drugged up last night. It wasn’t exactly in the cards.”
    Jacks scoffs. “That’s no excuse.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure it is,” I tell him. “I could barely move without wincing.”
    â€œIf I were in your shoes, I would’ve hit it,” he tells me. I open my mouth to argue with him, but I realize that an argument would just be a waste of time at this point. I could tell him that he wouldn’t have had sex with a woman if he had just been shot and beaten, but in all honesty, I would probably be wrong. Jacks has done a lot more with a lot less.
    â€œThat’s good to know,” I respond. Jacks nods.
    â€œI’m going back downstairs, call me if you need anything.” He starts to exit and then turns around. “You better get on top of that broad if you’re gonna do it. Otherwise, you should spread the wealth . . . with your downstairs neighbor.” With that, he turns and walks away. I get up from the chair and close the door behind him. I hobble to the futon and sit down. I gotta get some rest before Friday. I can’t go the ball looking like a mess. I light up another cigarette as I reach beneath the futon and pull out my .45. I put my feet on the coffee table and hold the gun in my hand.
    It’ll give me a chance to clean my collection. The way things have been going, I get the feeling I’m going to need the whole arsenal.

Friday Night, Quarter till Ten
    As I walk into Gold Note, two guys stumble out the front door and into the street. I watch in amusement at their fighting style. It’s all wrong. They fight too clean. It loses its appeal quickly, and I enter the bar. It’s busy, even for a Friday. I walk up to the bar to get a drink.
    My wounds are feeling fine now. Vicodin works wonders. Especially when it’s coupled with rum. Every so often there’s a pain, but it’s nothing I can’t handle at this point. I just needed a few days to let it heal up. Tip-top condition. No one knows the difference. I slap a five on the bar.
    â€œRum and Coke.” The bartender moves fast and I have a drink in my hand. Good service in this place. I pull an extra bill out of my pocket and set it on the counter. Now I get to play the waiting game. I still have a good fifteen minutes before my appointment. That’s enough time to get a couple of drinks. It would be enough time to get a house burger as well, but I’m not all that hungry. Megan made me dinner the last two nights. She came over in the afternoon with two grocery bags full of food. The first night it was pasta, meatballs, and garlic bread. The second night it was chicken. We talked, reminiscing about the old days, and put away a couple bottles of wine. I wasn’t entirely sure where the night was going to lead, but when all was said and done, we crawled into bed and spent the rest of the night passionately getting to know each other even better. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep the last couple nights. Then, she made me breakfast in the morning and we took a shower together before she left. It was a little like playing house. I don’t know how I feel about it. She’s a great cook, she’s fun to talk to, and she’s a wildcat in bed. She’s making it hard to distance myself. In a way, I don’t want to. On the other hand, I have a job that makes having a relationship difficult.
    I push Megan out of my thoughts, knowing that I have more important stuff to think about. I turn my attention to the people in the bar and quickly remember why I don’t frequent this place. Judging by the pretty paper, I assume I’m looking for a female. That’s all I know. At this point, there’s not a lot of dames in