From
Half My Blood
Copyright © 2015 by Lauren Gilley
“You done yet?”
In
answer, Mercy unwrapped the cling film off the second leftover chicken sandwich
Ava had brown-bagged him for lunch and took a huge bite of it. He was enjoying
setting the guy on edge. They’d walked over to the clubhouse, far enough from
the bike shop that, should things devolve to punch-throwing, they wouldn’t be
doing it in front of paying customers. Mercy, in what he thought of as an
inspired choice, had gone in, snagged his lunch, and was devouring it down to
the last Dorito crumb, making Colin wait. He’d never done that when they were
kids; it felt damn good.
To
be a guy the ladies had always swooned over, Colin’s sneer made him look truly
ugly. “Did wifey make you lunch?”
“Yep.”
“Did
she write you a love note on your napkin?”
It
said Love you bunches, Monster, with three little hearts doodled off to
the side. He’d crumpled it in his palm
first thing when he’d opened the bag and stuffed it in his cut pocket when
Colin wasn’t looking. “Nope,” he said, cramming the last square of bread in his
mouth. “What’s the matter?” he asked when he’d swallowed. “Wish she’d written
one for you? All nostalgic for the good ol’ days when your mama wiped your ass
for you?”
Colin
ignored the jab and said, “Nah, man, you were the one always starvin’ for a
mama.”
Okay.
Lunch was over.
Mercy
shoved his bag and half-drunk soda off to the side of the picnic table where
they sat, giving Colin a level look. “Say what you gotta say to me, and then
fuck off. I don’t have time for your bullshit."
Colin
shrugged, and in a deceptively calm voice said, “A’ight. You wanna tell me why
you put a round of buckshot through my old man?”
“Because
he was a betraying son of a bitch. Next question.”
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