by Rye Hart
But I never caught their eye again, and I gave up on my attempts to level the playing field between them and the rest of the brothers.
I'm not sure why it made me angry that she was flirting with them. I mean, I had slept with three of the five brothers a couple of nights ago. I'm sure that was something even my mother couldn't boast of. Watching her act the way she was with the twins made me sick to my stomach. I had done something so sleazy that even my mother couldn’t claim.
I needed to talk to Lindy, and I needed to do it soon. I went into the bathroom and called on my cell phone.
“Hello?” Lindy said.
“Hey,” I said.
“Emma. You at the bar?” she asked.
“I am. My mother’s back,” I said.
“Oh, wonderful. Need some company?”
“I just can’t stand the fact that she’s here. She disappears for two days, resurfaces, and moves right in the middle of a couple of guys who were talking me up tonight.”
“Oh, shit. Are you serious? Wait, were they hot?” she asked.
“Lindy, not the point. I thought maybe they were nice guys, different from most of the rest. Then Gracie shows up and their tongues are hanging out like all the others. It just pisses me off,” I said, still unsure as to why I was so upset about it. Did I really want to be with men who wanted to be with my mother? Gross.
“I’m so sorry, Emma. You sure you don’t want any company?” she asked.
“I’m sure. I just had to fucking vent. I’m gonna have to go back out there and watch her get wasted and make a fool of herself. She’s probably already told them I’m her daughter, which means they’ll now think I’m like her.”
Maybe you are like her, I thought to myself, remembering being filled by three men at once.
“You're nothing like your mom, Emma.”
“It’s just irritating, that’s all,” I sighed into the phone, wishing I could tell my best friend the whole story. I wasn’t sure how she would react though, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Anyway, I gotta get back to work,” I said.
“Who’s bartending with you tonight?” Emma asked.
“No one. Just me tonight,” I said.
“Why the fuck has no one called me?”
“Because the manager’s an idiot. You know that. It’s fine, anyway. The more money I can make, the quicker I can fix up the loft and get the fuck out of my mother’s house.”
CHAPTER 7
I was on my last shift before the weekend, and none of the guys had come in that night. I searched for them the moment we opened at eight, but none of them stepped into the bar. Of course, my mother was there. She was being obnoxious, drinking all our booze for free, and falling all over the young guys she thought she could take home.
“Another one,” my mother said.
“You can’t even talk straight. I’m cutting you off,” I said.
“I said I want another.”
“No.”
“Just one more,” she said. “There’s this hot guy in the back who loves tequila. One shot of it on my breath, and he’s mine.”
“Haven’t slept with all the guys in town yet, I see.”
When my mother didn't give me a reply, I looked up into her eyes and was shocked to find that she was surprised at my comment. She tilted her head off to the side like she was studying an endangered animal or trying to learn a new concept. Her brow furrowed deeply as her eyes scanned my body, and I braced myself for whatever she was going to say next.
“What makes you think you can dictate what I do?” my mother asked.
“The least you could do is conduct yourself like a mother,” I said.
“I’m more than just your mother, Emma. I’m a woman with wants, needs, kinks, and fetishes.”
“Take that kind of talk somewhere else, please.”
“Give me a shot of tequila and I will,” she said.
“You’ve had enough alcohol. I’m not giving you anymore,” I said.
“You listen here, you selfish little brat. You don’t get to judge me after everything I gave up to have you. I made a mistake in having unprotected sex, and I paid the price with you. I dropped everything in my life so that I could raise you. Give you what you needed. Feed you and clothe you and school you and shit. And if you think that you get the right to be embarrassed just because I gave up my golden years to raise you, then you’re sorely mistaken. Now. Give me. Another. Shot.”
I hated my mother. In that moment, there was nothing I wanted to do more than slap her across her face. I was willing to do anything to get her to go away, even if it meant feeding her alcohol she didn't need. I slammed a shot glass down onto the bar, poured our cheapest tequila into it, and watched her throw it back like the drunk she was.
“Thanks. You're a real peach,” she said sarcastically.
She threw the shot glass back behind the bar, and it shattered on the floor at my feet.
I watched my mother leave the bar area and go toward the man she had her eyes on. She went and tugged on his hand, and then the two of them slid into a booth. The young man leaned into her, his nose trailing along her neck, and soon the two of them were all over each other in that smoky little corner as I shook my head behind the bar.
“Everything okay?” Lindy asked.
“I was wondering when you would show up here,” I said, sighing.
“It’s only ten o’clock,” she said, giggling.
“Fuck.”
“Your mom’s at it early tonight. She got a bedtime or something?”
“Nope. But she’s pissed because I tried to call her out for her slutty behavior.”
“Whoa, yikes. How the hell did she respond to that?” she asked.
“She went on this tirade about how she wasted her golden years raising me and how she was more than just a mother I could be embarrassed about. Now, she’s probably trying to prove a point,” I said.
“Yeah. Probably not the best idea to call her out while she’s drunk,” Lindy said.
“Ya think?”
Lindy and I continued to serve people who trickled into the bar that night. I kept a watch out for any one of the brothers. The twins, Adam, any one of them. Anyone to help distract me from what was going on with my mother. I had no idea how long she and that guy were going to make out in the booth, but I could tell my mother was intentionally trying to catch my stare. Every once in a while, I could feel her eyes flickering over toward me, trying to see if I was looking at her before she kicked things up a notch.
I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction no matter how much I wanted to spit in her face.
“Looks like you’ll get an early reprieve tonight,” Lindy said.
“What?” I asked.
“Your mom. Where’d she go?” she asked.
I looked over at the booth and didn't see my mother or the guy whose face she had been sucking. I scanned the bar area looking for her, trying to figure out where the fuck she had gone. But then I caught my mother’s stare as she stood at the door, her back pressed against the door frame as the young flavor of the night continued to suck on her neck.
My mother shot me a wink before she grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the bar and into the parking lot.
“At least she’s gone,” I said.
“And since she left with someone, she won’t be back,” Lindy said.
“Why the fuck is she like this?” I asked.
“I don’t really know. But you know she’s only in here to get free drinks.”
“Yeah, and if I don’t give them to her, she throws a fucking fit, and they toss her out. Without making her pay,” I said.
“Maybe we could talk to Booker? Huh? Get him to ban her.”
“You know he won’t ban anyone. He keeps that policy for a reason. The moment we start banning people, we lose our clientele because we’re no longer unbiased,” I said.
“But it’s bullshit, and you know it,” she said.
“And it’s bullshit I’ll hav
e to continue putting up with. Trust me, I know. I’ve already had this conversation with him. But if we keep our heads down and keep working, in a couple of weeks or whatever we’ll be done with this place,” I said.
“I’m worried about you, Emma.”
“Well, this nightmare’s almost done.”
“You can come stay with me tonight if you’d like,” she said.
“Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
End of Sneak Peek. Would you like to know how this continues?
Click Here: 5 Bikers for Valentines: A Reverse Harem Romance
COPYRIGHT © 2018 RYE HART - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.
