by West, Dahlia
He ordered a beer and she asked Hawk if he needed another round and then set off to fulfill their orders. As Chris turned back to Hawk, someone shouldered past him and he looked over. It was a young kid, barely old enough to be in the bar in the first place, by Chris’s measure. He was sporting a cut but only a bottom rocker. A prospect for the Buzzards, Chris assumed.
“Watch it!” the kid snapped, apparently trying to look like a badass in front of his buddies. One of the guys with him, though, grabbed the kid’s arm and yanked him aside, muttering something into the prospect’s ear. Chris figured he knew pretty much what that was, but he didn’t really care.
Chris was also far too old to get into a pissing contest with a guy who only recently discovered he had pubes. Chris’ dick was bigger. That was a certainty. So was his bike. He could tell that just by looking at the kid. Chris’ bank account was also bigger and, most importantly, Chris had long ago outgrown the urge to prove any of this with his fists. He nodded to the kid, dismissing him, and turned to Hawk.
“You’re so popular,” Hawk told him.
Chris grinned, grabbing a stick from the rack. “Everybody wants a piece.”
“Yup,” Hawk agreed. “I know I do.”
Chris raised his eyebrows at his companion. Hawk dug out his wallet and laid a twenty on the table.
Chris laughed and shook his head. “Hawk, I just paid you that. Don’t you want to hang onto it a little while longer?”
Hawk scowled. “I’m gonna win this time. I feel it.”
“A fool and his money are soon parted,” Chris declared, chalking up his cue. After a particularly nice break by Hawk, Hayley brought their drinks, setting them on the waist high table tucked up against the wall. She barely got them down on the napkins when the prospect called her over.
“Hey girl!” the kid yelled, even though by the looks of it Hayley was slightly older than the kid. Hayley gave Chris a sardonic look that the prospect couldn’t see and turned to take his order. The kid ordered a beer and Hayley returned with it, telling him the total. The kid scowled. “How come I gotta pay?” he asked. “They don’t pay,” he noted, jerking his chin to Hawk and Chris.
“They run a tab,” Hayley replied, calmly.
“So run me a tab,” the kid said sarcastically.
“Can’t,” Hayley said smoothly. “Not up to me. Up to the boss lady.”
The kid grumbled and dug a five out of his wallet for his $4.50 beer. “I got money,” he told her.
Hayley didn’t have to respond because one of the kid’s companions slapped him on the back. “Oh, it don’t matter, prospect. You can’t drink more than a few anyway.”
The other man laughed and the prospect looked indignant. “Bullshit,” he declared. “I bet I can out drink any one of you,” he said, nodding to his prospective brothers.
Hayley smiled. “Kid,” Hayley said. “You couldn’t out drink me, let alone one of them.”
The guys on either side of the young man laughed. “I don’t know man, sounds like a challenge,” one of them said.
The kid scowled at her. “You’re a barmaid!”
Hayley grinned at him. “Sure am.”
The kid continued to glare at her. “Fine. Challenge” He spread his arms out, making a spectacle to attract his audience. “I sure as hell can out drink a damn barmaid.”
Chris watched as Hayley turned and looked at Maria, who had kept one ear on the exchange. Maria set a shot down in front of a regular and looked over. She sized up the Prospect and Hayley. Chris was certain she’d say no but instead Maria called out “You pay for her drinks.”
“Goddamn it,” Chris muttered as a cheer went up around the bar.
The prospect crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Alright, bitch,” he said, but he was grinning happily. “How many?”
“Six. Each,” she said, without hesitation. “First one done, wins. You pick the drink.”
The prospect grinned impossibly wider. “Devil’s Cut!” he shouted to rampant cheers.
Fucking hell, Chris thought angrily. The kid had chosen the highest proof available. Of course.
Hayley nodded as Maria pulled out a tray and set up twelve shots glasses. “Money first, Prospect,” the older woman called out and the kid produced a 100 dollar bill and handed it to Hayley. She took it to Maria and carefully lifted the tray of shots and carried it back to the table.
“Set ‘em up, boys,” she ordered, balancing the end of the tray on the edge of the table. The boys grabbed the shots, lining up two rows.
“Well,” said Hawk, “the good news is, she can’t take a cab home. ‘Cause she won’t be able to operate a telephone.”
Chris groaned and shot Maria a withering look. Maria simply shrugged and grinned, enjoying the evening’s entertainment. He started to rise from his chair. “If no one else is smart enough to stop this…”
Hawk put his arm out. “Now, now. It’s a challenge, Shooter. This here’s High Noon at the O.K. Corral. Can’t stop it. Wish Tex was here. He’d get a kick out of this. So would Doc.”
Chris watched as a crowd of Buzzards gathered to stand behind their guy, presenting a wall of black to a tiny little five foot nothing of a girl who didn’t even flinch. Hayley narrowed her eyes at the kid. She cocked her head to the side. “You ready, prospect?” she asked.
He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Hell yeah, I’m ready!”
Hayley shook her wrist out, flexing her fingers and the kid did the same. Chris shook his head at the both of them. It really was a gunslinger duel. Six shots and you were dead. Or Slick was at any rate, seeing as how she weighed about the same as a baby bird. He hoped she couldn’t manage more than two.
“On the count of three!” someone yelled out.
“One!” yelled the bikers.
“Two!” yelled the whole bar.
“THREE!” everyone thundered.
The kid grabbed the first shot and downed it, grimacing at the taste. Hayley took a step back from the table. The prospect slammed the first empty shot glass down and grabbed the second bringing it to his lips, but paused, confused. “What- why ain’t you drinking?”
Hayley grinned. “Gentleman!” she shouted above the jukebox. She raised both arms and pointed at the kid. “Drinks are on the prospect!”
There was a moment of silence before the entire bar roared with laughter. Buzzards started grabbing shots off the table, patting the bewildered prospect on the back, thanking him profusely for his ‘generosity.’ “Hey now!” he yelled. “I paid for those!” He tried in vain to snatch a few for himself but failed.
Hayley laughed and picked up the now empty tray, carrying it back to Maria who was bent over almost double laughing hysterically. When she stood up straight and wiped her eyes, she pressed a button on the cash register and handed Hayley a crisp twenty dollar bill. Hawk bellowed a laugh. Chris laughed, too, as he watched Hayley bring the prospect a consolation beer on the house. She patted him on the shoulder. He glared at her but took the beer.
Just then, Preacher called out from across the bar, “Prospect!” Heads turned as Preacher chalked his cue. He jerked his head. “Get over here and get in this game.” The prospect grinned at Hayley, grabbed his beer, and scurried off to shoot pool with the President of the Badlands Buzzards. Hayley smiled as she watched him go, wiped down the now-deserted table and headed over to Chris and the boys to gather their empties.
Hawk slapped the table. “Drinks are on the prospect,” he repeated, wiping his own eyes. “Oh, God.”
Chris grinned. “Very slick, Slick.”
“Karma’s a bitch,” she informed him. “He should be more polite, especially to the other customers.” She picked up their empties and walked away.
Chris turned to see Hawk smiling broadly and his eyes glittering with amusement. “Awww,” said the large man.
Chris made a face. “Don’t.”
“You got yourself a bodyguard, L.T.” Hawk chuckled.
“Shut up,” Chris
replied, but he couldn’t stop grinning.
“Fucking adorable if you ask me. The little kitten unsheathed her claws to defend her man’s honor.”
“I am not her man!” Chris insisted.
“Well, you don’t see her going out of her way to protect me,” Hawk pointed out.
Chris glared at him. “That’s because no one would fuck with you. Running into you would be like crashing headfirst into a brick wall without a helmet.”
Hawk laughed even harder and then slapped Chris on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “If anyone else gives you trouble, anyone at all, I’ll be sure to sic the kitten on ‘em.”
Chris sighed in exasperation and took a sip of his beer.
“Hang on I gotta hit the head,” Hawk announced, setting down his cue. Chris watched as the large man headed for the john. People moved out of his way like he was a freight train even though he was only ambling. He stopped by the jukebox, dug out a dollar, and fed it into the machine. A slow guitar twanged out Tammy Wynette’s Stand by Your Man over the speakers. Hawk laughed hysterically and Chris flipped him off. Then he flagged down Hayley to order a burger and fries before Thomas shut down the grill.
When the food came, he settled into the chair at his table and tucked into it, wiling away the four hours Slick had to go before the bar closed. Two o’clock came, and he slid off his chair to follow Hayley into the kitchen. Hawk was closing the deal with a cute little brunette and gave Chris a nod as he escorted his evening’s entertainment out the front door. Chris returned the nod and pushed open the swinging door. He found her in the office.
“Come on, Slick,” Chris said. “I’m taking you home.”
She frowned at him and shook her head. “No, that’s fine. I’ll call a cab, it’s not even a big deal. I’ll-”
Chris sighed. “Jesus, Slick. Stop busting my balls. I thought we were past that.”
“I’m not busting your balls!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She chewed her lip. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”
Chris stared at her. “You work in a biker bar,” he pointed out. “You worked at a biker bar in Denver.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t go home with them!” she insisted. “And you don’t even have a helmet. Shouldn’t you be wearing a helmet?”
Chris grinned and shook his head. “Only on road trips. Not in town.”
She scoffed. “Well, that’s ridiculous because most accidents happen within five miles-”
“Slick, are you really gonna stand there and lecture me for longer than it would take to actually drive home? I swear to obey all rules of the road and get you home in one piece. A whole six blocks from here,” he added sarcastically. When she hesitated he said, “I’m here, you’re here, you’re going my way anyway. Get your jacket on.”
Hayley briefly considered the cost of the cab and more to the point the wait for it to get to the bar and decided it did, in fact, make more sense to get a ride with Chris. “Okay,” she finally said. He nodded and gestured for her to head out the swinging door.
She shrugged on her jacket as he held the front door open for her and zipped it up against the chilly air. She was following him to her bike when she heard raucous laughter of some stragglers leaving the bar. She moved a little closer to Chris as they walked toward his Harley.
“Hey!” someone yelled. “Hey, barmaid!”
Hayley gasped a little, and grabbed Chris’s arm, turning a little to see the prospect, Jack Prior, and a third man ambling in their general direction.
“It’s fine,” Chris assured her in a low tone that only she could hear.
He could feel the tension radiating off of Slick as two Buzzards, the Buzzard actually, and a prospect came toward them. The prospect looked happy while Preacher Prior was, as always inscrutable. Chris held his ground as the two men and the kid stopped in front of them.
“Hey,” said the kid. “I was pissed at you,” he told Hayley.
She swallowed hard, but before she could respond the kid laughed. “But now I’m not. So listen,” he said, leaning in. Chris watched Slick visibly recoil. “How ‘bout you get on my bike and we go back to the clubhouse for those drinks?”
Chris didn’t even bother to wait for an answer. He casually slipped his arm around Hayley’s waist, spreading his hand wide along her hip. Slick was so wary of the Buzzards that she barely noticed. “Sorry, kid. This one’s mine,” Chris declared. The kid frowned.
“Got yourself a house mouse, Shooter?” Preacher asked, eyeing Hayley with a seemingly disinterested glance. But Chris knew from experience that nothing Preacher did was random or meaningless.
“Yup,” Chris responded, choosing not to say more. He wasn’t sure if Hayley knew what a house mouse was but if she did, thankfully she didn’t contradict the implication that he was using her for sex.
The kid looked pissed. “He fucked a blond last night and it ain’t even his house. She lives next d-”
Preacher brought his fist down, slamming it into the kid’s nuts. Hayley jolted and Chris held her tighter to him, hoping she could keep it together. The prospect doubled over in pain while the third man laughed. “None of your business who he sticks his dick in,” Preacher declared. “Shooter says the barmaid’s his; makes her his. End of story.”
Chris gave the man a curt nod. “Preacher,” he said by way of good bye.
“Shooter.”
Chris turned Hayley around and guided her toward his bike. “Everything’s okay,” he told her softly. “Just get on the bike. That’s all you have to do, Hayley. Just focus.”
They reached the bike, he straddled it first and pulled down the passenger foot pegs for her. She was shivering either from the cold or the scene in the parking lot or both. “Come on, honey,” Chris coaxed. “Let’s get you home.”
He sighed inwardly in relief as she put her hand in his and climbed on the back. Without having to be told, she put her arms around his torso and gripped him hard but he didn’t complain. He kicked the stand up, turned the engine over, and left the parking lot not sparing the Buzzards a backward glance. At the first stop light, he patted her hands reassuringly and she loosened her hold on him slightly. When he finally pulled into his driveway, he parked the bike and killed the engine. “You survived, babe,” he declared. Hayley didn’t move. He sighed. “Slick, as much as I like your arms around me, it’s late and we’re both tired. Let’s pack it in, okay?”
Reluctantly she sat up straight and peeled her arms back from his waist. She wobbled a little getting off and he held her arm to keep her from falling.
“Thanks for the ride,” she finally told him. “And for…the rest.”
The look on her face and the fact that if she bit that bottom lip any harder she was going to draw blood told him that Slick knew exactly what a house mouse was. He smiled at her. “Well, no one’s gonna bother you now. Not the Buzzards, anyway. I guarantee it. But there are still some unsavory characters at Maria’s every now and then so from now on every night you close, you’re on my bike,” he told her. Hayley’s eyes widened. “Slick” he said, voice full of warning.
“Okay,” she finally agreed.
“That’s my girl.”
***************************
All the tension that had been roiling in Hayley’s belly came to a complete standstill at his words. My girl. My girl. She thought of the blond the prospect had mentioned the night before and wondered if she really was his girl. For one instant, Hayley was insanely, inexplicably, intolerably….jealous? But she clamped down on that feeling. Hard. That was not a thing she needed to look at closer. Not at all. In fact she needed to just nip all that right in the bud.
She snorted, rather unattractively she thought, if she did say so herself. “House mouse,” she muttered. “I’m pretty sure I remember saying adamantly that I wouldn’t sleep with you.”
He laughed and swung his leg over the bike, st
anding up. “Only you and I will know the truth.”
Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “What about the blond?” When Chris raised his eyebrows at her she quickly amended, “I don’t want some biker babe coming into Maria’s looking for me ‘cause she thinks her man’s cheating on her.”
To her relief, he shook his head. “Blond’s just a friend. She’s got no claim on me and she won’t come looking for you if she hears about our little ruse.”