Chapter 32 The Regulars
The boys were at their regular table when Snowflake approached with check in one hand and suitcase in the other. She flashed them a satisfied smile and let her hip rest on Mac’s shoulder as she explained to them “Pay at the counter, I'm out.”
Swat. The flat of Vorest’s hand smacked her in the butt. She stiffened and looked back at Burly out of habit. Usually he’d raise his voice in defense of her, but this time he looked away and made his way into the back room.
Feely took it as a permission slip and pulled Snowflake onto his lap. “I notice the pierced nose, tongue, and navel darling, can I assume that you’ve got a stud on your muffin?” He began to peek down her pants when her right hand caught him with a forceful slap across the face.
Stones caught both of her hands and forced them high behind her neck causing her to catch her breath. Vorest’s hand closed around her windpipe choking off a scream, but allowed a breathy gasp of words that sounded like they were produced more on the inhale of air than the exhale. “What do you want?”
Vorest recognized the question. It was one that they’d often heard from the lips of frightened people. Back when they used to collect dirty money, it was usually from the skinny pusher with a broken nose and at least one fractured finger. Now it was a fresh-faced waitress with a mile high attitude. She needed to be grounded, he thought, sliding his hand up her thigh. “What do I want? What don't you want to give me?” Another voice suddenly shook the room.
“Let her go, or so help me the sun will shine through the spots I put in all of you.” Burly held a long over-under shotgun naturally in one hand, with the crux of his elbow guiding the barrel.
Mac helped Snowflake to her feet and dusted off her chest with a napkin “Didn’t mean anything by it, Burly. Just a going away present.”
Stones kissed her hand and she snapped it away like a rubber band. “Sassy kitten. Goin’ to play in ‘nother sandbox?”
Burly’s face fell. He was the largest man in the room, yet it looked for a moment like his hulking combination of flab and muscle was composed on a frame of pure air. He pushed his Snowflake out the door with a nod.
She was going to meet her County Commissioner, the one who would show her the world, or at least the greater Suffolk county area. Burly’s protective gaze escorted her out of the building for the last time, a going away present that ended with the door smacking back against the stop. The overhead bell ringing like it was chiming out the number of wives of Burly. At 10:30 that morning, it was just past five.