by Dahlia West
The blonde shook her head, her short hair falling down almost over her eyes. “Look, I really don’t give a shit. I don’t know you. I don’t know him.”
“Slut!” Brenda cried and shoved the blonde into the bar. Several patrons skittered out of the way.
“You better back up,” the barmaid warned. She didn’t look scared, merely irritated.
A hulking shape appeared beside Easy, but he kept watching the two women.
“What’d you do?” Hawk asked him quietly.
Easy pinched the bridge of his nose. “The blonde.”
Hawk snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” But his amusement faded as he looked at the feuding women. “How far you gonna let this ride?” he asked. There was an edge of rebuke in his voice.
Easy sighed. “It’s my mess,” he replied. “I’ll clean it up.” As he took a step forward, Brenda also took a step forward and brought up her fist. “God damn it,” Easy muttered and surged through the crowd.
Brenda had a good arm, a little slow though. It was too slow for the blonde, who snatched an empty tray off the counter and held it up. Brenda’s fist connected with it, and by the looks of it the corkboard didn’t do much to soften the blow.
Brenda squealed and grabbed her hand. The blonde gripped the tray and started to bring it up, ready to swing it at Brenda’s head.
“Jesus,” Easy said, surprised. He was close enough now to intervene and he placed his hand on the tray, pushing the barmaid back slightly. With the other hand, he grabbed Brenda’s arm. “Move,” he ordered.
Brenda protested, wailing like a banshee. Easy shuffled her toward the exit.
“Come on,” he said and pushed her through the door. Her roommates followed like sheep.
Brenda turned on him, her hand all but forgotten now. “Why would you do that?” she demanded.
Easy shrugged. In the end, there would be no point in telling her the truth. He’d never take her back, even if she apologized, which she might not. Then he’d just embarrass himself.
“She was there,” he replied smoothly, herding her toward her car. “She was into me and she’s got a great ass. Who could resist?”
Brenda’s mouth opened again. “You’re an asshole! You know that?”
Easy smirked at her. “You can’t say you didn’t know.”
In the year Easy had lived in Rapid City, he’d made a name for himself charming the pants off every pretty girl within a thirty mile radius, or so the stories went. What people saw was an attractive, confident guy who hit on a lot of women. It wasn’t his fault that everyone just assumed he took them home. Brenda might have almost been his first since losing his leg, but she sure as shit didn’t know that. Neither did anyone else.
“Go home,” he told her. “Maybe I’ll call you if I get an itch.”
“You bastard!” she shouted at his back.
He couldn’t argue with that. She had a point.
Chapter 5
Daisy sat in Maria’s office, her pride and her feet hurting in equal measure. With the look Maria was giving her, she suspected her nose might be hurting too, when the older woman decided to finish what the other girl had started. “Guess I didn’t mention the part where you don’t bang the customers in the bathroom- didn’t think I had to.”
Daisy felt heat creep up her face. “You don’t. Usually.”
“So, you just came face to face with a tall drink of water and went at him like a woman lost in the desert?”
A laugh escaped Daisy, and immediately she was sorry for it. “Um,” she mumbled. “Yeah. Kind of. I mean, pretty much exactly like that, actually.”
The blonde woman raised an eyebrow.
“It’s... um... it’s been a while,” Daisy admitted. “And I just, whew,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “I was there, and he came in, and... I lost my head. I’m sorry, Maria. And that girl, I have no clue who she is. I don’t know who he is. I swear I’m not usually like this.”
Maria sat back in her chair and gazed at the ceiling. “Well, I can’t say I blame you, coming off a... dry spell,” she said with a smirk. “And running into a guy like that.”
“What’s his name?”
Maria raised the same eyebrow again. Daisy thought if she kept talking, Maria’s eyebrow might get stuck all the way up there.
“He mentioned it,” she lied. “But I forgot.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “His name’s Jimmy. Goes by ‘Easy’.”
Daisy snorted. “That part’s right.”
Maria laughed. “He’s from New Orleans, but yeah, the name works both ways. He gets around. But you want my advice, don’t take up with him. He’s got some darkness around him. He oughta work it out of his system before he drowns in it. And you know what they say about drowning men. They’re likely to pull you down with them.”
Daisy moved forward in the chair. “Is he... dangerous?” She frowned. She definitely did not need anything like that in her life. Never again.
But Maria shook her head. “No. Not that I’ve ever seen. Though he’s ex-Special Forces, so he could be, under the right circumstances. No, he had a bad tour a few years back. Lost his leg. I didn’t know him before, but I get the sense that he might’ve lost more than that.”
Daisy blew out a hard breath. “God. I didn’t even notice.”
Maria shrugged. “Not much call to strip down in my bathroom. And if you want the job, by the way, you’ll never do it again.”
“The job?” Daisy held her breath. She needed money, and a place like this was definitely her kind of place, crazy, jealous girlfriends aside.
“We’re slammed like this every weekend,” Maria told her. “I lost two waitresses, and I’m in a bind. You seem to be able to handle yourself. If you can manage to keep your paws off my customers, we could work something out.”
“I can,” Daisy insisted. “I can definitely do that.”
“You’ll have to pass a drug test, too.”
“Not a problem,” Daisy said confidently. “The only needles I like have ink in them.”
“Yeah, I see that.”
“They’re mine,” Daisy told her, holding out her arms. “I mean, I drew them myself.”
“Oh, yeah?” Maria said, duly impressed. “They’re good.”
“They’re damn good,” Daisy corrected.
The older woman could sense the pride in Daisy’s voice and nodded. “That they are.” She reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a blank employment application. “Fill this out,” she instructed and handed Daisy a pen. “I’ll give you the address of the testing facility before you leave.”
Daisy couldn’t believe her incredible luck as she hastily filled in the empty boxes. Maria went to help her husband, Thomas, finish closing down the bar. Daisy was ecstatic. The tips she’d made tonight were far and away more than she’d ever made at the Silver Spoon. She smiled to herself as she thought things would turn out fine in Rapid City, just fine. She’d save some money, find a place. Maybe by the end of the summer she’d have enough saved up for a car. It wouldn’t have to be anything fancy, just something that-
She paused. Her pen hovered just above the page as she gazed at the application.
Have you ever been convicted of a crime?
Daisy’s enthusiasm faltered. She could sense all her earlier plans fading away, slipping through her fingers. She couldn’t go home, no way, not back to the trailer park and that boring, old town and those boring, old townspeople, who had always looked down on her.
Here was a job, where no one minded her tattoos or her nose stud. Here, in one night, she’d earned more money than she’d made in a week at the diner. She shifted in her chair. Here was Home, she decided. And that was that.
On the line, in bold, black letters, she wrote: ‘No.’
Chapter 6
Easy stalked across the gravel lot, kicking up dust as he went. He skipped the coffee in the break room and went right to work, right to fucking up as well, apparently, because the torque wrench
caught his thumb and peeled off some skin.
“God fucking damn it!” he shouted and threw the offending tool against the wall.
Shooter turned and looked at him from across the bay. Easy hung his head and went to retrieve the wrench, ignoring the black spot the impact had left on the wall.
“What’s up?” his former lieutenant asked.
Easy didn’t respond.
Hawk tossed a spark plug on the counter. “Got laid last night.”
Easy glared at the larger man as he returned to the truck he was working on.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Emilio teased. “Oh, wait. Yeah, it is,” he added, somewhat deflated.
Shooter’s eyebrows raised. “Really?” To Easy he said, “You know that’s supposed to have the opposite effect, right?”
“Just let it go.”
“The brunette that’s been all over you?” Shooter asked.
“No,” Easy snapped. “Just let. it. go.”
“Blonde that Maria just hired,” Hawk told the boss. “Cute. Plenty of sass. Good fighter, too.”
“Did she fight with him?” he asked, nodding to Easy.
“Nah. The brunette got all riled up when she walked in on the two them going at it in the bathroom. Took a swing at the blonde.”
“Oh, Christ,” Shooter muttered.
“It was just a fuck up,” Easy told them. “It’s not a big deal. It’s over.”
“Well, maybe-” Shooter started.
“Over!” Easy snapped.
If Shooter was irritated at being dressed down by his employee, his considerably younger employee at that, he didn’t show it. “Alright,” he agreed. “Over.”
Easy turned his attention to the engine and tried to forget about last night, the nights before it, and pretty much the last three years in general. He managed to succeed, for the most part, until lunchtime. He looked up as Sarah pulled into the lot and parked her SUV next to Shooter’s bike. Tex trotted out to help her carry in the meal she’d brought for them, while she wrangled Hope’s car seat.
Sarah was her usual bright self, which when he first met her, had irritated him to no end. Now it didn’t bother him so much. After all she’d been through, which was considerably more than Easy himself had endured, she deserved to be happy. And the little nugget she was hauling inside was the culmination of all Sarah Sullivan’s’ long-fought-for hopes and dreams, so the name was actually perfect.
She dropped the baby off in the office with Shooter and made her way to the break room. Easy followed her in to wash up. The plan was to eat, get back to work as quickly as possible, get home as quickly as possible, and then stay there, completely avoiding Brenda, the barmaid, and his brothers who, as much he wanted them to, probably would not let this whole thing go. It was simultaneously the best thing and the most annoying thing to have people who cared that much about you.
As Sarah unpacked lunch he caught her eyeing him. Easy dried his hands, sighed, and threw the towel at the sink. It was definitely a throwing things kind of day.
“Don’t,” he said.
“What?” she asked innocently.
Easy shook his head, not buying it. “I know he told you. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Sarah scowled and turned to face him fully. “But what about Brenda?”
He tried to keep his face passive as he shrugged.
“I thought you liked her,” Sarah protested.
“Well, I don’t,” Easy told her, growing more irritated. He walked to the table and grabbed a plate.
“You did.”
“I didn’t,” he insisted. “I was just killing time. Then I killed time with someone else. Not a big deal.”
“Do you know her? I don’t remember hearing about her.”
Easy turned on her and glared. “Hearing about her? Does he fucking report in to you about every fucking thing I do?” he demanded.
“I just-”
“I don’t need you checking up on me.”
“I don’t check up on you,” Sarah argued. “I just worry-”
“Well, no one asked you to,” he snapped.
“Jimmy, you’re my-”
“I’m nothing,” he told her. “I’m just the guy who works for your old man.” This was a total lie, and they both knew it. After they’d gotten over their initial wariness of each other, which culminated in an actual wrestling match on his living room floor, they’d become pretty close- as close as a guy could be, Easy figured, with his friend’s woman. Right now he didn’t want a friend; he just wanted to be left alone.
Sarah put her hand on her hip in that way she did when she was about unload on someone. Usually she directed her ire at her husband, which was usually pretty fun to watch, Easy had to admit. He was not a good target, and today was not a good day. “Jimmy Turnbull, if you think-”
“Mind your own god damn business!” Easy shouted at her to stop her before she got on a roll.
Before she could say anything else, if she was inclined to, the door swung open. Shooter stood in the doorway with Hope in his arms. His gentle holding of her was completely at odds with the look on his face. “You need to re-think your tone when you’re talking to my wife.” His tone was low, probably to keep from scaring the baby, but it only made him seem more menacing.
Easy immediately felt sorry that he’d snapped at her, but it wouldn’t have happened if she’d just minded her own business, if they’d all just mind their own business. Not willing to apologize nor willing to continue to argue, Easy threw down his plate and walked past Shooter. He kept on walking right through the bay toward the open garage door.
“Where are you going?” Hawk called after him.
“To lunch!”
“Slick brought lunch.”
Easy didn’t dignify that with a response. He lurched into his truck, slammed the door, and cranked the engine hard. Luckily, he didn’t flood it. It roared to life, and he stomped on the gas, kicking up more dust than his work boots ever could. At the entrance to the street, he instinctively turned left, because to the right was Maria’s and the blonde barmaid he definitely did not want to see again. He jerked the wheel and made it home in record time. He scowled as he thought of the cold pizza still sitting in his fridge. Whatever Slick had brought, it was better than greasy pepperoni. He slammed the truck door, and his face darkened even more as he spotted Tildy sitting on her front fucking porch.
“God damn it!” he muttered to himself as she waved.
“Hey!” she called out.
Easy ignored her and took the steps on his own front porch two at time.
“Hey!” she said again. “Jimmy.”
“I’m busy,” he told her.
“Why are you home?” she asked. “Did something happen?”
He grabbed the doorknob and shoved his front door open. “Yeah!” he bellowed, because she’d hear it anyway. Or maybe she’d get up and come over, and that was the last thing he wanted right now. He turned and pinned her with a withering look. “I fucked a barmaid in the bathroom at Maria’s, and I don’t need a fucking lecture about it!”
Somewhere a dog barked, and Easy had a niggling thought that there went his neighbors’ opinion of him. He stepped inside the house and slammed the door behind him. It rattled on its hinges. Whatever Tildy had thought of his outburst, she didn’t come over- thank God for that. He pulled the pizza out of the fridge and threw it onto the kitchen table. He glared at it as though through sheer force of will he could turn it into a steak, a cheeseburger, or whatever Slick had made for lunch that day. When that didn’t work, he picked up a slice and chewed it ruthlessly.
It served him right anyway.
Chapter 7
Daisy wiped down the bar and tried to ignore the fact that her phone was ringing. Maria seemed content to ignore it as well, so long as Daisy didn’t answer it when she was supposed to be working, but Milo was far too curious for his own good.
“Gonna answer that?” he asked around a mouthful of sandwich.
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“Mind your own business, old man,” Daisy told him.
Instead of being offended, he grinned at her. “Could be your boyfriend,” he teased.
“Don’t have one,” she informed him.
The old man snorted. “Doing the bebop in the commode with a fella means he’s your boyfriend.”
“Doing the what?” Daisy snapped. “And anyway, no, it doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything at all.”
“Ooooh. You’re one of those girls.”
Daisy glared at him in spite of his teasing tone. “Old man, I’m about to take that damn sandwich away.”
Milo recoiled.
“And it so happens, I’m not one of those girls. It was just a dry spell. I lost my head. I’m over it.”
Milo nodded thoughtfully. “I’m having a dry spell,” he declared. “I can relate.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “You don’t say.”
Milo bristled. “Hey, now! I’ll have you know that I do very well with the ladies.”
Daisy opened her mouth to make another sarcastic comment, but Maria interrupted her. “It’s true,” she told Daisy. “God knows why, but the man does pretty well with the widows in town.”
Milo sniffed. “Well, I did. But I lost my mojo somewheres.” He shook his head. “Got a plan to get it back, though,” he told her, and preened. “Gonna grow out my hair. Go for a rocker look.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Maria muttered and rolled her eyes.
Daisy tried hard not to laugh. “Do you play guitar?”
He frowned. “Nope,” he said and held up his hand that was missing most of a finger. “Doubt I’ll be starting now.”
Daisy sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Stick to being you, old man,” she advised.
“You think?” he asked, doubtful.
“Absolutely.”
At that moment, the door swung open, and Daisy watched a woman maneuver through it while hauling, of all things, a child’s car seat. Two other women shuffled in behind her. Daisy liked Maria’s, but even though afternoons were apparently pretty slow for lunch, it still didn’t seem like the place for a ladies’ luncheon.
