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turning
around and leaving. Other than a few sideways glances what’s the
worst that could happen?”
    Jayce was nodding. “That’s my point. It’s a
one-day venture.”
    “Who are we picking up from ?” This
from Tank.
    “The guys that brought it over the border.”
Jayce shifted in his chair, leaning forward with both elbows on the
table. “Guidinger informed me that who they were with wasn’t
anything I had to worry about.”
    “I hate that fucking guy,” Knuckles mumbled.
He cracked the joints of his left hand all at once. “He’s such a
smug son of a bitch.”
    “Who cares?” Jayce cut in. “He reports to
Sachetti, we make nice and do a little glad-handing. So what?”
    Tank nodded. “I’m in.”
    “I’m in,” Buck threw in immediately. “Might
be the last one until the baby gets here.”
    “I’m in,” Fritter offered, no hesitation.
Then he looked to Tiny. “You mind staying close to Jayce this time
around?”
    Tiny shrugged but Jayce was cutting in. “Wait
a minute, I can ride.”
    “Tank’s going,” Buck pointed out.
    “Only one or the other,” Fritter reminded his
president. “This is a last minute deal. Definitely not the time to
be getting all complacent.”
    “All right,” he grumbled, clearly pissed
off.
    “I’m in,” Knuckles piped up.
    “I’ll go,” Mickey offered.
    Rusty raised a hand. “I’m in, too.”
    “That should be enough,” Jayce decided. “They
said the delivery’s small. It’ll fit in a box truck. Mickey, can we
borrow the shop’s?”
    “Sure. I’ll drive.”
    “All right. Decided. You leave in an hour.”
Jayce rapped his knuckles on the table and called the meeting to a
close. With shuffling feet and creaking leather kuttes the Red
Rebels stood and filed out of the board room.
    Fritter headed for the coffee pot behind the
bar. Richey had started a strong pot before the meeting and he
needed a shot of caffeine.
    “Where’d you get to last night?” Knuckles
asked, plopping a mug down next to Fritter’s as he poured.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I told you I had those triplets coming
by.”
    He gave Knuckles a startled look, nearly
missing the mug. “Really? Ah, shit. The blondes?” They weren’t
really related, but they were similar-looking in a weird, Swedish
super model way. Generically stunning, if that was possible.
    Knuckles nodded, playing with the toothpick
in his mouth. “Yeah. We waited a while for you but the girls got
restless. So Tiny filled in for you.”
    “Yeah. Should be thanking you,” a gruff voice
said as a tree-trunk sized arm passed in front of him, reaching for
the coffee pot. Fritter grabbed his brain juice and stepped out of
Tiny’s way.
    “Shit,” he muttered. “I totally forgot they
were coming to town.”
    Knuckles eyes were twinkling. “So where the
hell’d you go?”
    “I was at Ma’s,” he said, trying not to sound
too defensive.
    “I called at seven-thirty. You weren’t
there.”
    Fritter frowned. This wasn’t the first time
his illicit meetings nearly got him caught. He always found a way
out of it. “Fine,” he conceded. “I got a call for lawn maintenance
at Judge Cohen’s. It was a sod emergency.”
    That made the other two cut up. The judge’s
wife had a thing for hired help. Fritter had been doing their “lawn
work” for years now. It consisted of fertilizer, aeration, cutting,
and fucking the wife stupid.
    “Is that right?” Tiny snorted. “How can you
do that, man? She’s gotta weigh two hundred pounds.”
    Fritter considered that. “Nah. A hundred
eighty, tops.”
    “She’s only five feet tall, though,” Tiny
argued. “You’re not worried about leaving incriminating evidence in
her rolls?”
    Fritter laughed as Knuckles nearly snorted
coffee out his nose at that. “She’s fun, man. You should try a
chubby girl sometime. They’re so cuddly and appreciative. She made
me cookies.” He was elaborating by using something that was
honestly the truth. “They were good,