Silver Bastard

by Joanna Wylde

  Danielle studied me thoughtfully for a minute, then shrugged. That was one of the things I loved about her—she knew when to let shit go.

  “I’ll borrow yours, then,” she announced, reaching for my purse. She dug through it, pulling out a brightly colored little bag that held my makeup. I’d made it last month out of an old silk kimono I’d found at the Kingston thrift store.

  “You know, you could be selling these. Did you ever talk to Regina about putting some in the tea shop?”

  “Not yet,” I replied. “Been too busy with school. Sewing purses won’t pay the bills—I need to stay focused.”

  “You might be surprised.” Danielle popped open my compact mirror and studied her face. “Fuck, I’ve got so many freckles that I want to scream. Raelene Korgee told me they’ve got this amazing new foundation at Ulta, up on ninety-five. I want to try some, but it costs a fucking fortune. I don’t suppose they’ll give you samples, seeing as you’re a professional?”

  I shook my head, feeling some of my tension release. Danielle always had that effect on me—she was just so down-to-earth. Grounding.

  “I wish. I’m getting low on all kinds of stuff. They say the tips are good here. Maybe I can buy some new fall colors,” I replied. Seriously? my conscience hissed. You’re going to buy makeup while your mom is trapped with Teeny and his guns?

  Danielle smoothed on my dark red lipstick, smacking thoughtfully.

  “Is this too much for me?”

  Glancing at her, I shook my head.

  “No, you can pull it off.”

  I heard a squawking, and looked up to see a line of geese flying overhead. Summer was ending too fast . . . Soon the snow would fall, bringing a slow commute and winter power bills. Despite its charms, living in a hundred-plus-year-old building had some downsides, and heating was one of them. How much money would Mom need to get away, realistically? Could I afford to help her?

  “Blake promises the tips are good. I’ll bet they’ll be better if we show some skin. If not, there’s always the fallback position.”

  “What’s the fallback position?”

  “We’ll work up at Shanda Reed’s place, of course.”

  My eyes widened, and I turned to her, scandalized.

  “Isn’t that . . . ? I mean, I’ve heard rumors, but . . .”

  “It’s a bordello, all right,” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “Or so they say. Girls can make a lot of money that way.”

  “You are so fucking full of shit. You’d never work there!”

  Danielle burst out laughing, shaking her head.

  “You should see your face!”

  “God, you freaked me out,” I replied, smacking her shoulder. She smacked me back and suddenly we were pushing each other so hard I fell off the bench. Danielle came after me, and we rolled to our backs, still laughing.

  “It really is a whorehouse,” she said. “Blake told me all about it last night—he was super drunk. He said they never take local girls, though. It’s an old hotel up past Quincy, way back in the woods on an old lake. Used to be a little resort or something, back before the interstate went through. He told me that Shanda Reed has it set up as a bordello, and that the women working there make a shit ton of money. Guys from the mines, and coming in from Montana.”

  “Why doesn’t the sheriff shut it down?”

  “Oh, like that’ll happen. When’s the last time the sheriff sent anyone up here? Quincy is another fifteen miles past Callup, he’s probably forgotten it exists. Hell, Shanda would shoot him if he stuck his nose in her business. She’s a total bitch—my mom went to school with her. Hates her. Nope, I’ll bet Shanda pays them off and they stay away. Win-win. So that’s my new fallback plan—if all else fails, we can start whoring.”

  I sobered abruptly.

  I’d already been a whore. Maybe not one who got paid, but I knew all about servicing men. So did my mom.

  “Being a prostitute isn’t a good thing,” I said abruptly. I sat up and started gathering the makeup that’d spilled out across the grass. Danielle stared at me, her face startled.

  “Are you okay? I was just joking, you know. I’d never do that. If I ever get desperate, I’ll just go work at a strip club. No need to go full whore when you can just wiggle your ass and collect money.”

  I shrugged, forcing a fake smile.

  “Sure, I’m great. It’s about time to start work, though. Let’s hit the bathroom and then go get ourselves started, sound good?”

  FOUR

  My first night at the Moose started out well, which was a damned good thing given my afternoon. It was busy, too, which I appreciated. The more I worked, the less I had to think about the Mom Situation. This was good, because the Mom Situation made me think of California, leading to memories of my extraordinary night with Puck.

  Sexy Puck. Scary Puck. Puck pushing me against his truck and shoving his cock into my stomach, growling in my ear . . . It’s a particularly fucked-up twist of fate, having your best sexual memories tied together with the kind of pain, suffering, and fear I’d felt the night we met. One of those gifts that keeps on giving, you know?

  Maybe that’s why Joe did nothing for me—he’d never hurt me.

  So you’re fucked up, I reminded myself. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last. Let it go.

  Teresa started out by giving us each a navy blue apron, which was the closest thing they had to a uniform. The first few hours were a whirlwind of trying to learn the new menu and computer system. Blake clocked in an hour later, and the fact that he knew most of it already helped a lot. Not only that, Danielle could turn any job fun. Good thing, too, because we had a full house.

  The shift didn’t start to go south until around ten that night. By then, the dinner crowd was gone and the kitchen had shut down. Now we were settling in for the long haul with the night’s serious drinkers. That’s when a group of students from the Northwoods Academy showed up, obviously slumming.

  I knew a little bit about the school because Earl had worked there as a groundskeeper for the last year. None of it was good. It’d been founded in the late ’90s, and the place was full of rich, spoiled brats who should’ve been in high school and college. They’d been sent “back to nature” by their wealthy parents as an alternative to jail time—nothing like paying off a judge to keep your record clean.

  Of course, some just had families who wanted rid of them because they weren’t convenient. A few even had movie stars for parents, at least according to Earl. Whatever their reason for landing in Idaho, they were almost all unpleasant and entitled as fuck.

  They’d gained a bad reputation around Callup for taking advantage of locals, too. Earl always told me to stay the hell away from them. I’d even heard stories of girls getting lured up there and raped. Were they true? No idea . . . I didn’t want to find out, either.

  “They can’t be legal,” I said to Blake, eyeing the group. Thankfully they’d settled in Danielle’s section, so it wasn’t my job to card them. They looked like the kind of people who would bitch long and hard if their waitress asked for ID. “Why can’t we just throw them out?”

  “We don’t know they aren’t legal,” he said, shrugging. “Think they take students through twenty-two up there. Online classes and shit—just depends on how desperate they are to avoid doing time. I’d take boarding school over a jail cell, too.”

  “Are you going to card them?”

  “Hell no. They have lots of money to spend and nowhere else to spend it. If we ever get questioned, we’ll just say we thought we checked them all. At least a few of them must have fakes. That’ll cover our asses. Remember, those little shits are rolling in it—tuition is a fuckload. We’ll make good tips and pretend we never saw them. Everyone wins.”

  I nodded slowly, watching as they scoped out the dim interior, pointing out tables made from polished, split logs and the old mine safety signs ranging along the walls. Danielle seemed comfortable dealing with them, so I decided to watch my tables and
mind my business.

  Around ten thirty Joe showed up.

  He sat his ass down by the bar, smiling at me as he exchanged greetings with Blake. Danielle threw me a knowing wink. Great, that’s just what I needed—my best friend in matchmaking mode.

  Of course, if I ever wanted to be normal, I’d have to get over this weird obsession with Puck somehow. Maybe I could fake it with Joe, fake it until it turned real. Couldn’t hurt to try.

  When I took my break at eleven, Joe caught my eye. I smiled, and he took my hand, leading me outside. We walked across the parking lot to the same unruly patch of grass overlooking the river I’d visited earlier. He climbed up onto the picnic table, then patted the spot next to him. We sat like that for a while, looking out across the darkened water, surrounded by the sound of crickets and frogs. It should’ve felt awkward but it didn’t. Being with Joe was relaxing. Comfortable. Pleasantly normal.

  “You seem to be doing okay,” Joe said finally. “Like the new job?”

  “Better than I thought I would. The tips are okay and the people are nice. I guess I expected it to be a lot crazier.” I considered my next words carefully, then decided it wouldn’t kill me to try opening up a little. “I grew up in a rough situation—lots of fighting and such. I thought it would be more like that, but so far it’s nowhere close.”

  “The Moose can get ugly sometimes, but the bartenders keep an eye on things and Teresa’s got a shotgun she’s not afraid to pull out as needed. Mostly just the occasional dumbass getting stupid. I guess things turned ugly a few years back, during the contract disputes down at the Evans mine. They asked the Silver Bastards to come out and control things. Settled everyone down. The Moose is the heart of the community in some ways. It was before our time, but when they had the big fire at the Laughing Tess this was where everyone gathered to wait for news. Whole families slept right in the bar.”

  I shuddered, thinking of the men who’d lost their lives deep underground.

  “I could never do that—work in a mine,” I said softly. “Hate the idea of being trapped under all that dirt and rock. Does it ever scare you?”

  “It’s not as bad as you’d think,” he replied. “Good money, enough to support a family. But I want out—no future underground, not with the way the business has been going. God knows how long the Tess will stay open.”

  More silence, then he reached over and pulled me into his side.

  “You have plans tomorrow?”

  “School in the morning,” I replied. “Blake is giving me a ride.”

  “Want to do something for dinner?”

  I thought about my conversation with Puck earlier and shivered. Joe was obviously interested in me, and he was sexy, in a wholesome, mountain kind of way. Puck is sexier, my traitorous thoughts whispered.

  Yeah, but Joe is normal, I reminded myself firmly.

  “Why don’t you come over to my place,” I said abruptly. “I’ll cook for us. Maybe I can bum a ride to the grocery store if my car isn’t fixed yet.”

  “Sure,” he said. “What happened to your car?”

  “Broke down this morning on the way to school. Earl is fixing it for me.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you miss class?”

  Pausing, I listened to the rustle of the water over the rocks and considered how to answer. “No, Puck Redhouse gave me a ride.”

  Joe didn’t respond, and I stole a peek at him. He seemed pensive. “Thought you said there wasn’t anything between you.”

  “There isn’t,” I insisted, wishing it was true. Why couldn’t I get Puck out of my head?

  Like mother, like daughter.

  No. I wouldn’t be that woman. I refused.

  “Once upon a time there was something between us,” I said slowly, wishing I could just lie. Mom lied all the time. “It wasn’t anything real, though. Not many people know this, but before I came up here I lived down in California. My stepdad was a biker—a hangaround with a club down there. They weren’t particularly nice people. That’s where I met Puck.”

  Joe had stiffened next to me. “So you followed him up here?”

  “I guess you could say he rescued me. My situation wasn’t so good. He saw that and helped me get out.”

  “Wouldn’t peg him as the knight-in-shining-armor type.”

  A snort of surprised, startled laughter escaped me.

  “No, that’s not really him,” I said. “He still saved me, though.”

  “So that’s the past. What’s between you now?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I mean, he keeps an eye on me, I guess. In a weird way, I feel safer because he’s around. But he makes me uncomfortable, too—when we first met I got hurt, and he was part of that.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “Definitely,” I admitted. Complicated. That was a good word. And Joe was a good guy . . . a guy who deserved better than fake. What the hell had I been thinking? I wasn’t my mom—I didn’t use men. At least, not on purpose. “If you’d asked me two days ago whether there was anything between us I would’ve said no way. There’s still not anything real . . . I like you a lot, Joe, so I’m going to be honest—he messes with my head and I don’t know where to put that.”

  Joe nodded slowly, then gave me a pained smile.

  “You know, I’ve spent years wondering why the hell I couldn’t meet a woman who wouldn’t play games. Now here we are and you aren’t playing games. Kind of sucks.”

  I shoved against his shoulder, wishing I was a little less fucked up as a person. His arm tightened around me in a friendly squeeze.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s make a deal—you figure your stuff out, and if I’m still around and you’re interested, you let me know. But I’m looking for something real and I don’t think you’re in a place where that can happen just yet. You need to work through whatever hang-ups you have about Redhouse first.”

  “Is this the ‘let’s just be friends’ speech?” I asked, my voice wry. “I hear that’s the kiss of death.”

  Joe laughed.

  “No, I’d like to be more than friends—but I’m not an idiot. If you aren’t ready to date, I can’t change that. I’d rather you figure things out with Puck now.”

  “There really isn’t anything to figure out,” I replied, my voice melancholy. “He and I don’t have a relationship and we never will. I think you’re right, though—I need to get my head straight. Until then we could still hang out and have fun, though.”

  “Maybe.”

  The sound of bikes cut through the air, their single headlights flashing across us as they pulled into the parking lot. Growing up in Teeny’s house had taught me a lot of things. By the time I was fifteen, I could take a hit, give a blow job, and cook for thirty men on a moment’s notice . . . I’d also learned to recognize the sound of certain motorcycles, particularly if they belonged to someone important. Things had been bad for me back home, but they’d have been worse if I hadn’t known to hide when the worst of them pulled in for the night.

  Puck and his Silver Bastard brothers had just arrived. I knew it for a certainty, even though I hadn’t seen their faces over the glare of the lights. Guess old habits die hard.

  “Your break is about over,” Joe said quietly. “I’ll walk you back.”

  He stepped off the table and turned to me, lifting me down. We walked back over the road and crunched across the gravel as the Bastards backed their Harleys into line. I refused to let myself look for Puck. So what if I was weirdly hung up on him? Life is full of things we want that we shouldn’t have.

  Cheesecake. Chocolate lava brownies with ice cream for breakfast. That last beer you have after the other beers . . . you know which one I’m talking about—the one that turns a little headache into the hangover to end all hangovers.

  Maybe that was a problem. I had a giant, five-year Puck hangover.

  Puck was dangerous in a decadent, indecent, cheesecake-at-midnight kind of way. That night in
my room, he’d stopped when he’d realized he was hurting me—and believe me, I’d appreciated the gesture—but we’d only scratched the surface of what a man like him would expect from a woman. It had been too much for me, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t his norm. My attraction to him was a dead end. For the first time in my life I had things to lose if I didn’t pull my head out of my ass, so it was time to start pulling.

  By now, the Bastards had finished parking their bikes and started walking toward the bar, meeting us halfway there. They were like a pack of wolves, falling in and surrounding us, and I felt myself tensing up. I didn’t like being surrounded by big men wearing leather.

  Just one more reason to avoid Puck.

  Of course, avoiding him would be hard, seeing as how he was right next to me. Joe on my right, Puck on my left. This was a whole new level of awkward, and that horrible tension between me and Puck flared back to life in an instant. I stole a glance at him, but the darkness hid his expression. Probably just as well.

  Joe reached over and caught my hand in his, surprising me. Puck made a low, growly noise. I shivered. Despite everything I knew was wrong with him, he could still get me going without even trying. Joe squeezed my fingers—a gesture of comfort—and I had to bite back a nervous giggle. Not a “this is funny” kind of giggle. More of a “I’m going to laugh now because otherwise I may fall apart completely” sound.

  So. Now I had Joe on my right and Puck on my left, which you’d think would be awkward. In reality, it was actually super-duper extra awkward, which was significantly more awkward than I’d realized was possible. Tension grew and swirled among the three of us, tangible and pungent. Through it all, Joe kept hold of my hand—he might never be my lover, but he’d be a hell of a good friend. One who apparently wasn’t scared of bikers, which was a big plus. I tried to sneak a peek at Puck but still couldn’t make out anything in the dark.

  Probably just as well.

  Not counting Puck, there were four other Silver Bastards giving us a friendly escort, and they’d left a prospect with the bikes. He’d stand out there in the night—watching—for however many hours they were inside, all for the chance to become part of the club.