Benny
“You taking that table to Benny’s house, or are we keeping it here?” Marcus asked.
He was talking to Nixx, who stood beside the clubhouse loading door with a ratchet strap in one hand. I was a few feet away folding the table’s legs, close enough to hear every word.
“Taking it,” Nixx answered. “JJ wants it for Millie’s art stuff.”
“Then get the truck. I’m not carrying this thing down the road.”
“Lazy bastard,” I said.
Marcus grinned. “You’re welcome to carry it yourself.”
We’d borrowed the table for the little celebration after Millie finished her mural. What was supposed to be pizza for a handful of kids had attracted enough Daggers that we’d needed extra seats. Now JJ wanted to use it at home for a drawing project, and Marcus had offered to help us haul it over.
It was a per
