I shook my head quickly, trying to get my wits about me while his deep blues were threatening to drown me. “Hi.” I sipped from my beer slowly, fighting to hide how nervous I had become all of a sudden.
“Not from around here are you?” The bartender slid his drink in front of him.
“Nope. Just passing through.”
I read the words “vice president” on the front of his cut before I let my mind start to focus completely on how breathtakingly handsome this man truly was.
Slow. Deep. Breaths.
Slow.
Deep.
Don’t let him catch you practically drooling.
Damn, he’s gorgeous.
“That’s a shame.” His lip curled under his piercings as his tongue rolled over the silver hoops gently. “I’m Abel.” He held out his hand for me to take.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Crickett.”
“Wait.” He tried desperately not to laugh as his cheeks got red and his lips pulled up at the corners. “Your name is Crickett? Like chirp chirp?”
“Yep, it sure is.” I rolled my eyes before taking a long swig from the bottle. “I’m named after a damn insect.”
“Who would ever think to name their kid that?” He was full blown laughing now as the hilarity of my unfortunate name really sunk in deep.
“A deadbeat and a hooker.”
The bartender practically jogged down the bar after my name hit the air and gave Abel a stern look. “Table. Now!”
“Everything all right, Bucky?”
The gruff old man narrowed his eyes. “The meeting was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago, son. I’ll be up in a second. Rich is looking for ya.”
Another bartender without a cut on slid behind the bar and all of the bikers filed through a door at the back of the bar. Abel was gone in a flash, without the slightest goodbye.
The young guy—who couldn’t be much older than eighteen judging by his patchy beard mixed with peach fuzz—walked over to me. “Miss? Care for another?” He pointed at my almost empty bottle and I nodded.
After taking a sip of the fresh icy cold amber goodness, I looked up at the guy playing on his phone. “Do you know a good motel close by?”
He smiled, glancing up from the screen. “Oh yeah, we have one just a block north of here, right off the main road. Can’t miss it.”
“Great, thanks. What’s your name?” I felt chatty, even bored, and I was great at flirty small talk. I figured, why not chat up this cutie and hopefully get some details about Abel?
“Me? I’m Holt.”
“Oh crap, I almost forgot.” I dug the koozie out of my purse and placed it on my beer.
Holt’s eyebrow raised.
“What? You don’t want cold hands or warm beer.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“Are you from around here, Holt?” I twirled a long curl between my fingers and stared into his dark brown eyes.
“Born and raised.” His drawl was thick as he wiped the bar top with a wet towel. “What about you?”
“I’m from a few states over. Making a break for it.” I chugged half my beer.
“Running ain’t always a bad thing. Vilas is a good town. Hopefully you’ll like it here.”
“How much do I owe you for these?”
I bit my lip slowly and watched Holt’s cheeks flare as he rubbed the back of his neck and stuttered a bit. “It was taken care of.” He held up his hand to stop me from taking my wallet out of my purse.
I raised my eyebrow at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “Abel told me to put it on his tab. So you’re good to go.”
Wow. Sweet, mysterious, and hot. I might have to give this town and Abel a trial run.
“Thanks, Holt. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
He nodded. “Hope you get some rest.”
“I look that bad, huh?”
Holt smiled sweetly as he shook his head. “Nah, you just look like you’ve been traveling for a while and need a hot shower and a bed.”
“Well then I look the way I feel. That Abel guy, he’s all right?” I should have been more subtle, but I was worn out and beating around the bush seemed more draining than what it was worth.
“Yeah, he’s one of the best guys I know. Tough skin but a fucking heart of gold.”
“Good to know.” I chugged the rest of my beer and threw a couple dollars on the bar. Holt’s sweet smile spread wider as the guys came back out from the backroom, or abyss, or wherever they’d all run off to in such a hurry. To my dismay, Abel was not in the group that filed back into their bar seats. I waved goodbye to Holt and made my way to finally get the shuteye that I desperately needed.
Chapter 2
Rounding the corner, I saw the neon vacancy light shining bright above the motel’s front office door. The dimly lit gravel parking lot crunched under the tires of my crying car. It was time to put more power steering fluid in for sure. I grabbed the plastic bottle of fluid from the floorboard of the passenger side and fixed the problem. At least there were a few things I could do under the hood of my car to make it run at a somewhat decent level. Growing up where most of the guys around built mud trucks had its perks from time to time.
Looking around as I made my way into the office, I noticed a few cars scattered around the lot, all with out of state plates. It was nice to know that other out-of-towners stopped there. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it comforted me to know that other travelers felt safe enough to crash there too.
The bell chimed above my head as I walked into the small office that smelled like mothballs and stale pizza. A sweet girl peeked up from a school book the was laid out on the counter. “Hey miss. Lookin’ for a room?”
I nodded. “Sure am.”
“Smoking or nonsmoking?”
Even though I was a smoker, the thought of stale cigarette smoke embedded in the pillows made me want to hurl on the spot.
“Nonsmoking.”
“All right. I just need a credit card to hold the room. How many nights will you be our guest?”
For not being more than thirteen, she was very articulate and polite. I was pretty impressed by her.
“I’m not sure, actually.” I dug my hands into my pockets; it felt unnerving as hell to not have any plan whatsoever.
“Longer than a week?”
I shrugged. “Possibly.”
“We have weekly specials, you’ll save fifty bucks that way.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Perfect.” She punched a few keys on the dinosaur of a computer that was in front of me. “If anything changes, just come on in and let us know.” Her kind eyes and sweet smile settled down my growing nerves as she handed me a key with a giant red plastic ornament-looking keychain on it.
“You’re on the first floor, three doors over on the left.”
I handed her my credit card and license. “All right, Miss Hayes. You’re all set.”
“Thanks.” With a quick wave, I was off to finally lie down in a bed for a much needed night’s sleep, even though it was still the afternoon.
The light shining through the window stung my tired eyes as I groggily started to wake up. I had no idea what time I had actually crashed the day before. I’d barely even had time to turn the lights off before I hit the pillow and passed out, let alone undress, take off my makeup, or look at the clock.
Rolling over, bright red numbers blared eleven fifteen at me as my stomach started to rumble. After peeling myself from the pillow-topped mattress that felt like a lumpy heaven, I dug through the duffle bag that contained my life until I found my favorite pair of jeans and a yoga top.
I glanced at the bright red smear on the pillow from my favorite lipstick and the black dots from my mascara. Thankfully I was not the one that was going to have to wrestle with those stains.
Within minutes the faucet was pumping steaming water into the tub. A nice long soak felt like a dream for my tired body. The trip hadn’t been emotional unti
l it all crashed onto me as I sunk to the bottom of that porcelain bath. I was free. I was finally freaking free, and I felt bad about it.
The image of my mom figuring out that I was gone broke into my mind and ripped my heart apart. But who was I kidding? If she hadn’t started blowing up my phone yet, she had no idea. She was probably still in a haze of meth and booze from another week-long binge.
Right before I left, I could tell that’s where she was heading anyway. It was the perfect time to escape: I would be so far gone by the time she was halfway conscious that it wouldn’t matter.
“Critter!” Her hollow cry came from the back bedroom.
I rolled my eyes at her dumbass nickname for me. Wasn’t my real name bad enough?
“Yeah Ma?”
“Get me a fucking coke from the fridge.”
I grabbed the last can of soda from the barren wasteland she called a refrigerator.
I hurriedly popped the top and walked it back to her where she was laying in bed, sick as a dog from yet another withdrawal.
“Here. I gotta get to work.”
Her shaking hand wrapped around the can as her sunken, dark eyes begged me for mercy. She didn’t have to ask; I knew what I needed to do.
“Yeah. I think Vinnie is working tonight. I’ll see what I can get.”
“That’s my girl. Thank you, Crit.”
“I’ll be back late though. Try to sleep and don’t let anyone come over with you sick like this. I don’t want this place to get robbed again.”
I snapped out of my daze of strolling down terrible memory lane when the sound of splattering water echoed in the tiny bathroom. Looking over the side of the tub, I realized about half an inch of water was starting to coat the off white tiles.
Shit.
I lunged for the faucet, turned off the water, and sunk back in to relax and let my fingers and toes get pruney. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had time to relax like that. The quiet and the peacefulness were almost disturbing. It was a far cry from the cursing, fighting neighbors and my mom hollering at me or moaning in some john’s ear all the time.
Good riddance to all that bull crap.
Giving in to my roaring stomach, I drained the water and got dressed. I laid towels on the floor of my soaking wet bathroom to lap up the water that had spilled over.
I made my way to the closest Waffle House my phone’s GPS could find. Luckily it was just up the road and I had a hankering for greasy cooking and a pot of coffee. I quickly scarfed down some scattered, smothered, covered, and chunked hashbrowns with two eggs over easy on the side and tried to think about what my next move was going to be.
Not having a plan was both liberating and frustrating. I knew that the money I had was going to go faster than I could admit to myself. I checked the classified section for jobs while I sipped on hours-old coffee. I wasn’t really built to be a stable hand, and I didn’t think there was a strip joint in Vilas.
As I was getting up to pay my check, Holt and the older bartender walked through the front door. Holt ambled over to me with a sweet smile on his face.
“Nice to see you haven’t left our little town yet. Thinkin’ about sticking around?” He spit into a Dixie cup and I could smell the wintergreen chew that was wadded up in his lower lip.
I held up the paper and shrugged. “A girl’s gotta eat and there ain’t any jobs here for me it seems.”
“Hey Bucky, aren’t we still looking for a daytime bartender?”
He nodded. “Yeah, the one Abel hired last week quit on me Monday night.”
“Well there ya have it. I’ll talk to Abel about it. Come by in a few hours and we’ll get ya all set up.”
Just like that I had a freaking job in a town I wasn’t even sure I was going to stay in. At least I knew I was going to be able to keep a roof over my head and hopefully finance another move, if nothing else.
Chapter 3
After going back to the motel, making sure my makeup was perfect, and changing my outfit at least ten times, I went to the bar to see if Holt had been able to talk Abel into hiring me.
“Hey, Crickett,” Holt called to me from behind the bar. “Abel should be here any minute. Just got off the phone with him.”
“Yeah? How’d it go?”
Holt was counting the register’s drawer. He glanced up from a wad of twenties. “I think he is interested.”
“Sounds good.” I took a seat at the bar, throwing my purse on the counter with a big thump.
Holt stared at my bag for a second. “Do ya have rocks in there or something?”
I laughed a little. “Never seen a girl with a concealed carry before?”
“Yeah, but none that looked like you.”
I felt my cheeks burn as the front door swung open. Abel’s large frame took up most of the doorway. My heart pounded in my ears, my palms started sweating, and suddenly it was stifling hot in the dank bar.
“So Holt here says you’re looking for a job?” Abel took the seat next to me; the musky smell of his cologne and his deep blue stare were all too distracting.
I fumbled for words. “Yeah, figured I’d give this little town a try for a bit. Who knows? Maybe I’ll end up liking it here.”
“When can you start?”
“Now.”
He smirked. “Have you ever worked in a bar before?”
I laughed a little. I kind of had, but I’d been dancing, not pouring the drinks. “Something like that.”
I winked and watched his mind try to make sense of it. “I guess that’s good enough for me. Holt can start training you now, if that works for you.”
I hopped off the stool and didn’t think twice about going behind the bar to let Holt start showing me around.
“Damn it, isn’t one of you going to ask if your boss wants a freaking beer?” Abel half-smirked at me as Holt tossed a bottle over to him from the ice trough in front of us. Opening the bottle, Abel got up and started to make his way to the back room. “That’s more like it. And Crickett,” he pointed at me with the top of the bottle, “this area is off limits to anyone that isn’t wearing a damn cut like mine. Got it?”
I nodded.
His lip curled under the silver rings as he pulled the door open. “Good.”
After a few days of working at the bar, I started to get to know most of the guys: which ones tipped well, which ones were drunk flirts, which ones treated chicks like dirt. It was all pretty much like stripping, other than the fact that the guys had to use their imaginations to know what my curves looked like rather than just trying to bribe me to get stark naked during a lap dance. All in all it was a welcome change of pace.
Only a few women passed through with their guys from time to time. Most of them just ignored me or were so snarky that I didn’t give them the time of day. The only lady I remotely had an interest in talking to was Ronda, the part-time night bartender who only came in on nights that she felt like it, or when Abel called her in when Holt or Rich were too slammed to think straight.
She was tall and crack-head skinny with leathery skin, nice as could be with a mouth like a sailor. Other than that, I had no female contact, which I actually preferred. Women bred drama and problems and I wanted to stay as far as humanly possible from both of those things.
While cleaning a bunch of dirty pint glasses off the bar I heard Abel talking to one of the older club members. “Rave will be gone handling everything for a few more days. Hopefully it all works out.”
“Sure it will. Rave has a way with those guys over in Arkansas.”
Hearing the name Rave and my home state in the same sentence sent shivers down my arms. I had no idea if it was just a coincidence; it probably was. Right? I could not picture my father being part of a motorcycle gang, but who the fuck was I to make any judgements either way? I barely remembered him, let alone knew him. He could have been sitting in that very bar and I would have had no idea.
“Crickett?” Abel waved his hand in front of my face. “Crickett, you all right
sugar?”
I shook out of my daze of trying to picture my old man’s face again. It scared the shit out of me how hard it was to remember his physical features anymore.
“Yeah.” I smiled and stretched out my back. “Need another whiskey?” I pointed to the empty glass in front of him.
He shook his head. “We have to get out of here. Won’t be too long.”
He and the older guy got up with a few of the other men sitting at the bar. They all pulled cash out of their wallets, paid, and went on their way.
“You going to be okay here for a few hours? I need to go take care of some other shit for a bit.”
Holt started wiping up the counter and throwing the empty beer bottles into the trash.
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be back later to finish out the night shift so you don’t have to work another double.”
I shrugged. “Can’t complain about the money. Do what you have to do.”
My shift was pretty uneventful. A few of the regulars popped in and out, but there was nothing to write home about until a group of guys walked in. They looked to be a few years older than me and were completely out of place with their grungy, messy-but-put-together-messy look. Their hair and outfits were like controlled chaos.
The five-some took seats right in front of me at the empty bar.
“What are y’all havin’?”
“Do you guys have PBR?”
They were all tattooed and incredibly good looking, with an accent that I could not place.
I nodded. “Five PBRs coming up, boys.”
After setting their beers down, curiosity got the better of me. “So what brings y’all to this neck of the woods?”
The guy on the end, who had a mohawk and tattoos on his skull, looked up from peeling the label off his bottle. “We’re in a band. Playing in a show tomorrow night right up the road.”
“Are y’all like famous or somethin’?”
The guy next to him, who had a sweet, seductive face, smirked. “I guess you could say that.”
“So what band are y’all with?”
Tatted-Skull guy chimed in again. “We’re The Hysterics. I’m Maverick, this is Colt, Dane, and Rodney. And that guy on the end is Quinn, our head roadie. We’re playing a concert at App State.”
The Unacceptables Series Box Set Page 2
