Page 7 of Underground Prince
Muffled shouts drifted from under the door. Verily’s eyes moved to the wall, then back to me, then down to my feet. “Where are your shoes?”
“I think underneath a guy,” I said. “So, party’s over.”
“Wh—”
“We have to go. Sorry.” I rushed past the players and pulled at Verily’s arm. “So sorry.”
“Wait, what are you—ow!”
“Consider that payback,” I said, tugging her across the room.
“You at least have to let me cash in my tips—”
“Hug the wall,” I warned before we fell back into the party.
“Shit,” she said once she took stock of the melee. Grunts collided with yelps, but Theo’s threats were the loudest of all.
“What’d you do?” she asked.
Molding against the wall like she was told, Verily waddled with me in the direction Theo instructed, but both of us were too mesmerized by Theo’s bellowing to go very fast.
“If you assclowns want to come back here you better back. The fuck. Down!”
No one listened. Shirts were stretched, ripped and torn as hands scrabbled for bodies and mouths demanded cash.
A guy in sweatpants ran in front of Theo, maybe heading for the doors leading out to the backyard. Theo caught the guy in midair, twisting him a hundred and eighty degrees and nailing him against the wall by the neck.
The neck.
Gurgling, the guy clawed at Theo’s arm, his fingers resembling little pudgy caterpillars as they tried to gain traction.
Attention caught, everyone lowered their fists.
“Now,” Theo said, maintaining a firm grip. “Get outta here. Your money belongs to the House.”
“But—”
“Leave!”
Feet scraped and scuffed as they made their way to the door—the one Verily and I originally accessed this Underworld through—and Theo released his grip. The pudgy man sucked in air, bending low and gagging.
“Those of you who didn’t initiate this shitshow can return in forty-eight hours to win your buy-in back,” Theo said in a calmer voice, though not by much. “Anyone got a problem with that, take it up with the boss.” A few might’ve protested, but Theo stopped them with a look. “That’s after I tell him what blockheads you’ve all been tonight.”
Swiping at his mouth, Theo tracked every one of the men as they hobbled out, single file. Like prisoners towing the line, all except the dealer. Somehow, he’d been able to disappear long before Theo cracked the whip.
“You’re out, Ollie,” Theo said to the last in line, Hooked Nose.
“I ain’t—”
“Be thankful I didn’t tell the guys what I know.”
Theo dug into Ollie’s jean pocket despite Ollie’s dance of protest and pulled out at least five chips.
“I can expl—”
Theo snatched Ollie’s right hand and dragged his own across Ollie’s palm. Some kind of friction caused Theo’s to stick.
“Odorless glue. You ass,” Theo said.