Flint

Margie greats us all like long lost children as we enter the diner. I own ten percent of this place, well a lot of places in town actually, plus half of six businesses in a town across the border into Utah. Once we cleaned out our competition down there, there was a vacuum that needed to be filled. Figured it was better I take them over than let the Spiders’ probies, Ol’ Ladies, and kids think we’d let them get their territory back.

We place some tables together and Vice wastes no time pumping Margie for details on the town’s newest resident.

Margie laughs and nods at me, “Bree’s in business with him now, I can’t tell you much else than she really likes bacon. Bacon with syrup on it.”

What the hell?

The guys look at me then back to Margie. Margie raises an eyebrow at me and announces, “I heard Rusty sold her a share of the bar.”

God Damn It. This is why I never leave town.

Rusty’s is one of a few bars in town not associated with any of the ski lodges. Rusty’s wife was diagnosed with cancer a few years back, so I had him sign over twenty-five percent ownership for money to take care of her. And as life goes, she died anyway but I still get money every month for my portion. That he would sell any part of his share when I was gone must violate some part of the agreement.

Vice keeps trying for more scoop since we all know how Margie loves her gossip, so her lack of information is curious. Finishing up and throwing money on the table, I head home for some sleep in my own bed before I try to figure out what else has happened.

I’ll be fifty-two this winter and just want to rake in money, go on rides, and not be bothered with bullshit. Hopefully, Rusty kept my home intact and didn’t sell that off while I was gone.

*

Getting an early start the next day, I ride around to the various businesses I have a share in. The MC owns most of the garage, diner, car washes, bakery, and laundry-mat in addition to buildings they rent out to retailers. I have a personal share in most of those plus my portion of Rusty’s.

The bar is close to the edge of town and still looks the same from the outside until I walk into it after nearly three months away. Shit, I was obviously no longer the only one with say around here. It was transformed. From tables with wobbly legs to booths along the walls, new tables, and partitions giving it almost a speakeasy feel. The stage was in the same space but it had flat panels around it that would apparently give everyone a peek at whatever was happening.

Rusty is restocking the bar; and seeing me he gets straight to the point, helping to diffuse my annoyance pretty quickly.

“Flint, good you’re here. I sold part of my share; well the property itself really. We pay rent now, but you won’t mind her, she works and lives here. Hope this isn’t a problem.”

“Explain it to me,” I say, sitting down and pointing at the whiskey over his shoulder.

After filling a glass with ice and Jameson, he starts in. “This woman came to town a couple months back, she’d come by here in the evenings. She was personable, y’know when you talk to someone about not much of anything but you walk away laughing or some shit like that?”

I grunt, taking a sip and he continues; “The fourth night in a row that she’d wandered in, my back went out. Eight on a Friday. It’s like she knew how bad I was and she jumped right in; had me take my pain pills and after a few instructions, she completely took over. I sat over to the side with my leg propped up and she was great. She cleaned up with tips but I gave her a hundred on top of that. Next day she was here before I opened and asked if I’d like a partner.”

“You didn’t think to ask me about that?” I’d been around here long enough to distrust strangers and it was sounding more and more like he gave her part of the business without knowing anything about her.

“I told her it wasn’t all mine, we talked numbers before and after closing that day and I mentioned how I’d love to have time to get to Texas in the winter, y’know, see my kids? Like you did? But that I should talk to you and it might take a while.”

I was nodding; “It’d take a lot longer than a while.”

“She was quiet, then, she asked about the building. I told her about the land out back, storage in the basement and apartment upstairs. Next thing, she’s asking if that was part of my share and if she could buy that. I told her I’d get it evaluated and think about it; after I did that, we worked out what I’d have to pay in rent.” Rusty keeps talking as he organizes his bar.

“She works four nights a week, doesn’t get paid other than her tips and funded the redecoration herself. Really makes the place look different, don’t it? She and her dog live upstairs. Man, her dog is great; follows her all around. His name is Ragnar, looks like a small German Shepard; he’s real protective of her too.”

“Yeah. We saw them in the park yesterday near Ray’s. What’s up with Kennelly and her?” I ask, trying not to shit myself over Rusty selling the property. I’m pretty sure I have no right to that, just the bar business but the property had been in his wife’s name at the time of our deal.

“Kennelly’s a shit for brains. He hit on her the first night she worked, got pretty aggressive about it.” He laughs to himself over the memory.

“What the fuck?! She’s got a few years on him.” A few years and a few light years out of his league.

“You met her, right? You think any straight man around here cares how old the good-looking, mysterious, new woman is?” Rusty snorts at me. He’s gotta point; I rubbed one out to thoughts of her in the shower this morning. “Anyway, she was polite the first time he started in but got annoyed with him and finally shut him down hard. Crowd around the bar all laughed at him and you know he thinks to highly of himself to take that well.

“Uh, you talk to any of the guys who stayed local, uh, skipped the rally?” That bastard smirks at me.

“No. Say what you gotta say and stop yanking my dick,” I growl.

“Well, Rod, they all call him Needle now.” I continue to glare at him while he milks his little story. “See, she’d only worked a few nights and a bunch of your boys came in; now Rod sidles up and yells ‘Get me a pitcher, Sugar Tits.’ Damn, but it got quiet fast.” Rusty laughs at the memory and misses me clenching my fist over Bree being talked to that way.

“She’s got this, well, her glare is right up there with what you dole out! I hope to God it ain’t ever aimed at me. So, anyway, she pulls the pitcher, puts it down in front of him, charges him double and caps it off by calling him “Needle Dick”. Boys all lost it; they’ve been calling him Needle ever since.” Now in on the joke, I enjoy it; Rod is average height but with an ego that wears on us all. Fucker deserves it.

“Tell me what you know about her. Everything.”

Sitting back as Rusty refreshes my drink and expecting a power point presentation about this woman. A stranger, who now owns the building where a very lucrative, underground, bi-monthly poker game takes place in. I was not amused by his succinct answer of, “Not much.”

“Think she’s from back East, loves her dog, has a Silverado, and is sarcastic as hell.” He adds when I don’t stop glaring at him.

Closer to the bullet points I expected but not enough. “And the game?”

“She sat in on one; played tight then cleaned the table. Hasn’t played again, she gets 10% of our share.”  Rusty shrugs like this isn’t pertinent.

But goddamn, she’s getting sexier by the minute. “Who’d she beat?”

Rusty concentrates on arranging the glasses for a minute before saying, “I think it was the judges, The Russian, and a couple of the ranchers.”

“Why is she here?” I prod.

“I don’t really know, didn’t seem right to probe. She’d been on the road for a while I think, and felt this was a good a place as any?” Rusty shrugs, holding my glare. “Lighten up, she may be running from something but I, well, I just felt protective of her. She wanted to stop here, so I wanted to help even if it meant pissing you off.”

“Well, you did that. I want to talk to her. Now.” I slam my hand down.

Rusty points upwards, saying, “She’s probably up there, but most mornings she goes for a walk up to the lookout.”

Taking the last gulp of my drink, I head towards the back where there is a staircase leading up to the apartment. On the landing and about to knock, I hear a loud, high pitched scream abruptly cut off by a thunk before frenzied barking starts. Trying the knob to find the door locked, I put my shoulder into it and break through the center panel after a couple tries. Reaching through and unlocking what’s left of the door, I shove it the rest of the way open.

“Hello?” I call walking in, only hearing the shower and the whine of a dog. I repeat myself louder as I make my way toward the dog pawing at a door down the hallway.

Nudging him aside, there’s a low moan as I stick my head through the doorway. Fuck. Trying to push herself off the floor, Bree is in all her glory; half on top of what’s left of the shower curtain and with some blood dripping down her chin.

“Fuck. What the fuck?” I yell as she slips back down trying to cover her tits with one arm and duck away from the dog, who has slipped past me. “Fuck.” I know it’s not the time, but her breasts do not disappoint. She points towards a bathrobe, I hurriedly grab it as I hear Rusty clamoring up the steps.

I call out to Rusty to stay back and to find the leash. Covering Bree with her robe, I pull the dog out towards Rusty with orders to get him outside, that I’ll handle her. Rusty looks worried but doesn’t question me.

Heading back to and kneeling beside her, unsure of touching her, I can only ask, “What happened?” in a low voice, hoping to calm this woman who still hasn’t spoken.

“Turn around.” She says breathlessly. “Hot water stopped. It was ice cold and I tripped on the tub trying to get out. Hit my chin, knocked my wind out when I fell.” She says, still struggling to get her breathing under control. I’ve turned but can’t help but see her in the full mirror.

“What are you doing in here?” She asks, making eye contact in the mirror, narrowing her eyes to let me know that she doesn’t appreciate my appraisal.

“I was coming to talk and heard you screaming your head off.” I reply, “Let’s see that chin.” She whimpers as she tries to stand, obviously favoring her left leg. I move to get her on the toilet and kneel in front of her to assess the damage.

My hands on her leg cause us both to start; I hold my breath for a moment in an effort to will my cock back down, like a fucking teenager. My calloused hands, darkened by years of riding, glide up against her soft, pale skin causing a ripple of goosebumps in their wake.

“Please, could you just get me some ice?” She asks while grabbing for my wrist, causing her to loosen her hold on the front of the robe. Giving up at the sight of the valley between her nicely rounded tits, I start to lean forward. Guessing my intent she gives up holding onto the robe and moves her other hand to catch my chin; she forces eye contact between us. “Ice, Romeo, just ice.” She says, shattering my plans.

“I’m gonna need some too.” I quip.

“I’m sure that shower hasn’t warmed up, feel free!” She laughs, quickly blushing as she realizes what that would entail; I wiggle my eyebrows, turn off the water, and head in search of the kitchen.