“. . . And has it made ME happy? Has it made ANY BODY happy?”
When no answer came, I blinked my eyes, trying to get Kalvin back into focus. When he finally spoke, he seemed to be very tense, though his voice was very quiet. “I think you may have just made someone happy, but I don’t think it’ll be you.”
That’s when I noticed the whole bar was silent. Looking around, I was surprised to see how many people had come in while we were talking. It was an ugly-looking crowd, but no one seemed to be talking to each other or doing anything. They just stood there looking at me . . . or to be more exact, looking at the table covered with my money.
Chapter Twelve:
“HOLY BATSHIT, FATMAN! I mean . . .”
—ROBIN
“I . . . THINK I’VE made a tactic . . . tad . . . an error,” I whispered with as much dignity as I could muster.
“You can say that again,” Kalvin shot back mercilessly. “You forgot the first rule of survival: Don’t tease the animals. Look, Skeeve, do you want to get out of here, or do you want to get out with your money?”
“Want . . . my money.” I wasn’t that drunk . . . or maybe I was.
The Djin rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“I was afraid of that. That’s going to be a little rougher. Okay, the first thing you do is get that gold out of sight. I don’t think they’ll try anything in here. There are too many witnesses, which means too many ways to split the loot.” I obediently began to pick up the coins. My hands seemed to lack the dexterity necessary to lead them back into my moneybelt, so I settled for shoving them into my pockets as best I could.