“Oh, darlin’. That’s a story. Let’s get breakfast out of the way then you and I’ll sit down and visit for a bit.”
Bud grinned, thinking, how bad could a job be that started off with gossip?
“Today I’m makin’ the blow-it-all-the-way-out big hit breakfast that’s gonna make ‘em love you more than their real mamas.”
Bud giggled. “Okay.”
“Get yourself an apron. You know where they are. Now you don’t have to do laundry for these boys unless you want the extra money. Couple of ‘em’ll pay you to get out of doin’ for themselves.” She shook her head. “Shit. They can be lazy fuckers. But you do have to launder the aprons and kitchen towels. I usually throw ‘em in with my own stuff. Saves me time.”
Bud nodded. “What’s the blow-it-all-the-way-out big hit breakfast?”
“Christ, you got a good memory. That’s gonna be a help. ‘Cause the sooner you’re the rubber meetin’ the road, the sooner I can get outta here and be with my sweetie.”
Bud smiled. “What’s he like?”
Brenda stopped setting things out on the counter long enough to get a dreamy look on her face. “Handsome. Quiet.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Bud. “Hung. With buns of steel.” Bud couldn’t help but laugh at that last part. “He’s carryin’ a little extra above the belt, too. He likes his beer. But nothin’ wrong with that. You know?” Bud didn’t know. She was eighteen and interested in flat tummies with well-defined abs, but she nodded to be polite. “He’s steady. Even-tempered. In for the long haul. You know, all the things a right-headed woman wants.”
Bud found herself continuing to nod without even realizing she was doing it.
“So about breakfast…” Brenda said.
“You got me off track by talking about buns and…”
“Dick.”
“Um, yeah. I think we need to separate those conversations. Back to the BIATWO breakfast.”
“BIATWO. I love it,” Brenda said. “Look here. It’s so simple it’ll make you cry. You just get these breaded chicken filets out of the frozen chicken and fish section at the HEB. You bake ‘em in the oven for twenty, twenty-five minutes. Now at the same time, you’re poppin’ Eggo waffles out of that row of toasters there.” Brenda took a stack of eight plates and separated them so that they were eight individual plates sitting at the end of the island/table. She then pulled two kinds of syrup out of the refrigeration unit and set them next to the plates. “Grab eight paper napkins out of that drawer right there.” She set two coffee mugs down by the plates. “Put eight forks in here and eight butter knives in here.”
While Bud was doing that, Brenda went on. “Now here’s the part that’s gonna make you swoon. All you have to do is put those Eggo waffles on a plate, set a chicken filet on top, and let the takers squeeze out their syrup of choice. Sounds simple. Is simple. But they will think you’re the greatest thing since the vagina was invented.”
Bud couldn’t help but laugh at the outrageous things Brenda said. Brenda was causing Bud to wonder, even if she could do the work, if she would ever develop the larger-than-life personality that Brenda wielded so effortlessly, and she wondered if that was what was required to ride herd on a bunch of bikers armed with tortilla chips.
Just as she’d said, the bikers wandered in between seven thirty and nine, grabbed a plate, poured syrup on the chicken and waffles with various expressions of approval that all meant, “Oh boy! Chicken and waffles!”
As she and Brenda cleaned up from breakfast, Brenda talked nonstop about such things as how the second dishwasher door could stick sometimes and how Brant was a stickler for cleanliness in the kitchen. Brenda wore her hair pulled back into a ponytail, then netted that into a bun. The result made her look more like the cover of Town and Country than biker club cook.
“So I suggest you find a way to keep that pretty hair of yours out of the food or you may see the ugly side of the prez.”
Bud was pretty sure she didn’t want to see the ugly side of the prez. “Okay. I like what you’ve done. Maybe I’ll try that.”
“Honey, it’s like the chicken and waffles. Easy breezy but oh so good.”
When they were finished, they poured coffee and sat down for the story Brenda had promised. Bud thought it was one of the strangest family stories she’d ever heard, but heartbreakingly romantic. She also knew for a fact that it ended well, because she’d spent hours with Brant and Garland the day before and, if there was ever a couple who belonged together, it was the two of them. Anyone could see it.
Brenda looked at her watch. “Now you don’t have to worry about lunch. They’re on their own and they’re usually gone in the middle of the day doin’ whatever it is they do. Rescue’s always here, of course, because he works here. Now, once I’m gone, he’ll try to talk you into cookin’ for those dogs. You just tell him no. Your job is to cook for humans. Not dogs. Tell him he can cook for the dogs at his own place.
“So between breakfast and five o’clock you restock the kitchen and the bar. Do what cleanin’ needs to be done. Got a service that comes twice a week to do such things as sweepin’, dustin’, vacuumin’, and cleanin’ the bathrooms. Oh. Trust me, girl. You would not want to be them!” She was shaking her head and making a face. “Also, if somebody left a whore layin’ around with no clothes on their nasty skanky asses, let the cleanin’ people find ‘em and not you.”
Bud looked curious. “Does that really happen or are you makin’ it up?”
Brenda took in a long indulgent breath. “The boys are red-blooded and some of ‘em don’t know that all pussy’s not the same. Brant discourages that behavior these days, but he doesn’t say no. They’re grown ass men.” She shrugged. “Just how it is. They won’t bother you though. Brant read them the Riot Act and Brash is Enforcer. Nobody wants to be enforced by Brash. Believe me. So no matter how cute they may think you are, they’re gonna leave you the hell alone.
“Now when it comes to meal plannin’, you’re in charge. In your condition, you got special needs. And you need to put yourself first when you’re thinkin’ about what to serve. If that means the men have to eat salads with grilled chicken instead of fried chicken, then so be it. It wouldn’t hurt them to be a little health conscious.”
Bud grinned. “I think they’d hate me.”
“Now you listen to me and hear me well. Two weeks from now you’re not going to care what they think about you. They’re the ones who need to be turnin’ themselves inside out worried about whether or not you’re feeling all right. The woman who controls the food and the drink is all powerful. Never forget that. Men can do without anything else. Anything. But they’ve got to have their food and drink.”
For a full minute Bud sat and processed that. Then she laughed out loud. “You’re sayin’ that, when it comes to the Sons of Sanctuary clubhouse, I’m all powerful.”
“Hmmm. I wouldn’t cross Brant if I were you. Other than that, yes. You’re the shit.” Without missing a beat, Brenda continued, “So the cleanin’ you need to do is mostly in here.” She looked around the kitchen. “And the bar. I’ll show you the ins and outs of how all that works.
“Now the guys will start driftin’ in wantin’ alcoholic beverages around five. You warm up the TVs and give them a first round. You don’t need to learn about mixed drinks. The bar motto is keep it simple. When you need to start dinner, one of them can hand out beers and pour whiskey. After all, there’s only one of you. Right?”
There was only one answer to that. “Right.”
“So the job hours are kind of different. You’ll be in here cookin’ breakfast at seven and I’m usually out there at the bar until ten. I leave the bar sparklin’ before I go to bed. If somebody makes a mess after that, they’re not gonna like me in the mornin’. You know what I mean?” Bud nodded. “Good news is that there’s a lot of time between breakfast and five for you to run your own errands and, most importantly, get a nap. As your pregnancy progresses, you’re probably gonna need that more and more.”
Bren
da was showing Bud around the bar when Garland swept in.
“Good morning.” She smiled at Bud and Brenda.
“Hey, boss lady,” Brenda said.
Garland scowled at Bud. “Please do not call me that. Ever.” She looked at Brenda. “She does it just to aggravate me.” Brenda laughed. “You ready?” she asked Bud. “That’s a beautiful top you’re wearing.”
“Thank you.” Bud had to agree. She wasn’t sorry she’d snagged the rose tunic even if it had been a favorite of Señora Gutierrez.
Garland and Bud were twenty minutes early for her appointment. The doctor was running forty minutes late.
“It’s very nice of you to do this,” Bud told Garland.
“Have you been to see an obstetrician before?” Garland asked. Bud shook her head. “Gynecologist?”
Bud shook her head again.
Garland contemplated whether or not she should say something about pelvic exams, but decided maybe it would be best not to have Bud form preconceived ideas based on someone else’s experience. She’d taken care to get Bud a woman OBGYN. Not only would it seem less humiliating to someone with Bud’s age and inexperience, but the doctor’s hands, like the rest of her, were smaller.
Garland tried to ignore the TV monitor so that she could read her book while Bud was with the doctor, and part of her longed for the days when there was peace to be found in public places.
Bud came out clutching a white paper bag. Garland rose and met her at checkout.
“Samples of vitamins,” Bud said, raising the bag.
“Good. I know you need those.”
Garland paid the bill. On the way out she said, “Now for the fun part. Are you hungry?”
“Unbelievably, yes. Even though I had chicken and waffles for breakfast.”
“I’m sure you just got a lecture about diet.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you can get serious about that right after I take you to Torchy’s Tacos.”
Torchy’s was a permanent food truck on a gravel parking lot, but there was a building next to it that was basically a screened-in porch with picnic tables inside. Garland was right about the food. Bud had shrimp tacos with caramelized onions.
“So what kinds of things are we shopping for?”
“I pretty much left everything at home when I ran. I need tennis shoes and underwear and, I guess, lots of jeans and tops. Judgin’ from my morning with Brenda, seems like the tennis shoes are going to be the most important thing. I have some pesos to exchange…”
“Give me those,” Garland said.
Bud fished the pesos out of her purse and handed them over without question. Garland took out her phone and looked up the exchange rate. “That’s $7.65.” Garland pulled a ten out of her purse and put it on the table. “I’ll take the $2.35 out of your first paycheck.”
That was the first time Bud had thought about a paycheck. She’d been so stunned with the roller coaster ride she’d been on the day before, and they’d been so generous, she hadn’t thought to ask.
“We didn’t discuss pay with you, did we?” Bud shook her head. “Well, it’s a thousand dollars a week.”
“How much is my room and food and health insurance?”
“Oh no. It’s a thousand dollars after those things. And you do get paid for training. So you’re actually earning money for today.”
Bud was stunned. That meant that she was going to be able to save most of her pay. She couldn’t have been more surprised, or elated, if she’d been told she’d won the lottery.
“That’s… kind of amazing. Am I on…um.”
“Probation?”
“Yes.”
“No. Because you came with a strong reference from a club member.”
“Oh.”
“And I can tell, after knowing you for twenty-four hours, that you’re the kind of person who takes obligations seriously. Somewhat unusual for someone your age.”
“I have five hundred dollars left, but three of it really belongs to Johns. He handed it to me before they,” she looked down, “um, took him.”
“Cann doesn’t intend for you to give that money back. He gave it to you so you would have it for yourself. For reasons just such as this.”
“How do you know that?”
“Woman’s intuition. But never mind. If it makes you feel better, I’ll give you an advance on your first payday.”
“That would be great.”
“Good. It’s decided. Now where shall we go?”
“I don’t really know Austin.”
“Pshhhh. These days every place is the same. I don’t know about you, but I hate malls. How about if we go to the shoe warehouse first? We can get your jeans, tops, and undies at a single department store. If you need toiletries, we can do that at a drug store or Target. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. But I think I need to be back in time to help with dinner.”
Garland smiled. “Today’s not a full work day. It’s about doctors and shopping.”
“I need hairnets. I’ve never used them, but I think it looks better than a baseball hat. You know, the way Brenda wears her hair.”
“Good call. It’s very attractive.”
By the time Garland pulled into the SSMC it was dinner time. She’d already alerted Brant that she was eating there tonight. So he’d told Brenda to plan on two extra. He knew that Brenda went to some extra fuss when she knew Garland was coming. She loved the lavish attention and praise. Garland was masterful at making people feel good about themselves.
While they’d been at Target, Garland guided her to the bedding department and gave her a five hundred dollar allowance for personalizing her room at the clubhouse. When Bud had finally balked at the generosity, Garland insisted.
Consequently there was a lot of stuff in the car including new pillows, comforter, sheets, towels, and a flower vase covered with brightly colored, mirrored mosaic squares.
Garland told Axel to help Bud with the bags.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said dutifully without a trace of sarcasm. Brant was a tyrant about knowing whom to respect along with when and how to give it. It took two trips for him to deliver everything.
Bud had never been on what might be called a shopping ‘spree’ in her life. It had been fun to get a bunch of new things and it had been fun to do it with a woman who helped make decisions. There had been times during the afternoon when she’d gone for as long as ten minutes without thinking about Johns.
She pulled out new jeans that were less chic, more her style, pulled on a plain knit top, and practically groaned from the pleasure of comfort when she put on one of the two pairs of thick-soled sneakers she’d bought.
There were a few more people for dinner than the night before. She took an apron out of the cupboard and was putting it on when she arrived at the sink.
“How can I help?” she asked Brenda.
“Did you get what you need?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Brenda nodded toward vegetables set out on the big cutting board. “Finish chopping those up, toss that salad, and get all the different kinds of salad dressing out of that refrigerator over there.”
“Okay.”
Bud sliced tomatoes, boiled eggs, green peppers, red onion, and cucumbers. Threw them into two giant wooden bowls with the hearts of romaine. Tossed. Then pulled about seven different varieties of salad dressing bottles out of the unit that seemed to contain mostly cooking ingredients that required refrigeration.
“Done,” she said to Brenda.
“Okay. Start sending those bowls of salad around.”
Bud took the first bowl to Garland and said, “Salad, madam?”
Garland chortled. “Much better than that thing Brenda calls me.” She took the salad and Bud went back for more.
When everyone was seated and eating, Bud filled a plate with chicken breasts coated in cornflakes, au gratin potatoes, tossed salad, and soft flakey crescent rolls fresh from the oven. She sat at the furthest end of the ta
ble, happy to just listen and be out of the hurricane’s eye of attention.
Somebody named Crow told a story about a guy walking by the side of the road smoking a cigarette, wearing nothing but combat boots and tighty whities. Everybody accused him of making it up, but he swore it was true.
After cleanup, Bud accompanied Brenda to the bar where her education continued. “And you don’t have to put up with porn on the big screens if you don’t want to. Just tell the lunkheads to take their pervy little selves to their own rooms. Every one of them has a TV. They can watch other people pretend to get off in their own rooms.”
Bud smiled, but secretly hoped she would never have to ask any of those men to, um, take their hobbies elsewhere.
The next day was nonstop apprenticing, but Bud was a fast learner and she was beginning to feel like she had a handle on things already.
“Now if you get under the weather, don’t worry. Everybody gets sick sometimes and we have ways of dealin’ with it. You let Arnold know first. He’s in number three. He’ll take care of the rest startin’ with breakfast. The man actually knows how to make bacon and eggs.
“If you need to go to the doctor, he’ll take you. If you need cold stuff from the pharmacy, he’ll get it for you. If you just need to stay in bed and slurp hot chicken soup, he’ll manage that, too.”
“That’s good.”
“So neither of us got a nap today, but you learned so much I think you could take over if you needed to.”
Bud paled visibly as she looked at Brenda, shaking her head no. “Uh, no. No. I’m not… not ready.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Bud looked toward the guys sitting at the bar talking and watching TV, then looked back at Brenda. “Them.”
“Well,” Brenda smiled, “the only way you’ll get past that is for me to get out of the way so you can find your own way and forge your own relationships with the crew.”
Bud had a feeling there was no point in arguing. “Are you leaving, like, now?”
Brenda laughed. “No. Not until next week sometime. Stop lookin’ like a rabbit. Where’s that girl that stood up and told her daddy, the Ranger, to take a hike?”
NOMAD (Sons of Sanctuary Book 3) Page 13