âYou and my brotherâ Beau started as he shifted into gear and lurched the green beast forward, not speeding but toeing the line, âPlayinâ fuckinâ house when we have shit to doâ
The small neighborhood street slipped behind them, quickly broadening to wide-open desert and heatwaves. Beau shifted again, revving the engine unnecessarily as he peeled around the corner and onto a local throughway.
Knox gave a sharp sound of laughter under his breath as he lit his cigarette, rolling down his window so the smoke carried out behind them. âWell maybe if you played house with Ev now and then, your brother wouldnât have to.â
Beau cast a
look over at his copilot, âEvâll lose interest in me the second I settle down. Sheâs not into
tamedâ He let that word be directed over at Knox with a toothy grin, then narrowed his attention on passing a slow-ass Toyota with California license plates taking over the left lane. The green beast roared past the roadtrippers with Beau flashing them a middle finger out the open window.
Heâd turned the radio on, though not loud enough to be heard over the roar of air through the open windows. The beast had AC, but it was turbulent enough that Beau let the Arizona nights be cooled by the rush of wind on a fast road. They were right outside Edenholle city limits, Beau preferring to use the freeway to speed across the small town then the grinding of breaks through stop signs and out-of-commission traffic lights. He generally had two speeds- a slow crawl, easy for cursing out someone out a window or 20 miles over the speed limit.
âBash wants us to check out a new property buyer in town, play nice and see why the fuck heâs moving into our shitholeâ Beau explained, âSome dick weâve probably traded with before but he told me not to try and rememberâ
Knox shrugged, if there wasnât a need to remember he wasnât going to strain himself trying. One thing Knox always knew was his place, and he was never the one calling the shots. As much shit as he talked, heâd never want to be the one either. He preferred the reckless abandonment that accompanied being on the road with Beau.
âWho wouldnât want to live in such a paradise?â Knox joked, his words muffled by the cigarette hanging from his lips as he gestured out the window. The world outside the green machine was just a blur of browns, it didnât matter the speed Beau went it was all shit.
âApparently some dude named El Jardinero, Bash had to get off the phone before he gave me the full rundown. Heâs worried cause this fuckers Big Time and thereâs no real reason he should want to be our neighbor. Rodney from the real estate office gave us the motel heâs staying at, so I figured weâd swing by with a bottle of jack and see if he deserves our attentionâ Beau drummed his fingers on the steering wheel with impatience, slightly irritated to be on this recon mission but also worried that this actually might be well worth his time. Theyâd been living in relative peace for a while now- Bash was good at keeping things steady, avoiding chaos, and pulling in just the right amount of cash to run under any larger gang radars. If âEl Jardineroâ was really worth his shit, it might mean even pulling his brother out of his picket fence retirement plan.
El Jardinero. The name rang with a note of familiarity to Knox. He never paid much attention to the players on the board. Some names you just heard in passing. They made so many deals, it was just a matter of town if someoneâs product would pass through their town. It was the peace Los Lobos maintained that made it possible for such a small town to be such a large player. The law was what they made it.
âThat means the gardener, right?â Knox broke the brief silence, still yet to have acknowledged a single responsibility or even that they were going to work right now. âMaybe that means he can make this shithole look a little less...like shit.â
Beau barked out a laugh, âYou think this guys just cominâ in to plant some ficuses and make things pretty?â.â If Bash was sending them on some meet and greet bullshit, it better have more importance than a local gardener that wanted to plant some stupid LA palms. Beau had a rough idea of the guy, some man with a big name, a big backing, and a reputation for brutality. He was polite at least, which is why they were coming at him with booze instead of bullets. âIâm thinkingâ we play nice and stay low, be the guy someone wants to take a shot with instead of throw their fist into for once, alright?â Beau cast another telling glance at his copilot. There weren't many people in town that didnât want their fists in Knox, for one reason or another, âBash needs to know we can deal with this corporate crap every once and awhile. I can promise you some thug shit tomorrow nightâ
âThe fight always finds us, donât gotta to go lookinâ for it.â Knox said with a shrug, his hand twitching at the thought. He wasnât really one for words, between the two of them Beau was definitely the charisma. âBesides, wonât ever find me dodging a reason to drink on the job.â
âLike we donât drink on the job everydayâ Beau quipped back as he turned off the interstate, the sky leaning more towards nighttime than day. It was that moment before true sundown, where you could no longer see the sun and the tendrils of her rays casting the desert in a somber glow. The beast shifted down and roared down the quiet street towards the neon glow of a motel up ahead.
Beau parked next to a large green F150, the roadrunner dwarfed in comparison to its hulk. âIf thatâs his fuckinâ truck weâre gonna have more issues than just real estateâ He grumbled as he leaned back for the bagged bottle of whiskey and his gun.
âWell would you look at that.â Knox ran his eyes along the monstrosity, whistling low. âDefinitely not trying to be conspicuousâŠ.â
While there was a note of envy in Knoxâs words, there was a truth beneath them. Too much flash garnered too much attention. Theyâd maintained their balance by keeping their town humble. Sure he had wanted to buy some pretty baby on four wheels all cash upfront, but he had the whip for Mariah and rode around with Beau. Some dirtbag without a taxable income shouldnât be able to afford much more than that. If this guy rode around like this, what the hell kind of shop did he want to pop up.
âCanât say I wouldnât mind some extra cabin space,â Knox grumbled, looking back to the roadrunner which seemed to have shrunk within its own shadow. She might be home most nights for them but Knox would be lying if he hadnât considered getting an upgrade.
âYou say one more dirty word against her and Iâll make you walk homeâ Beau jangled the keys at Knox, âLetâs make this short and sweet, get out of here with enough time to catch a show at the denâ. Beau turned, stood before the motel door, and glanced back at the truly monstrous and overly pricey truck with the wariness of a closed-in animal.
Knox and Beau locked eyes just before knocking, a silent moment to recognize each other's anxieties laid bare. He wasnât usually this apprehensive, but something about seeing that truck had rattled him. Maybe heâd been expecting a dirtbag with a Camaro, someone theyâd toy with a move on, some shitty asshole that didnât understand the ferocity in which the Lobos protected their town. But that truck was clean and new- dirt dusted the sides, but he could tell whenever owned it took care of it. You could tell a lot about someone from their car- Beau instantly knew this wasnât just another kingpin looking for a storehouse they could chase off.