The sound of the bell pealing through the beauty shop as Calder left had her giving up any pretense of sweeping.

“He leave?” Sex Piston asked, coming out from the back office.

“You finally decide to show your face?” Crazy Bitch snapped, resuming her sweeping.

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Counting the bank deposit.”

“If it took that long, then I need a fucking raise.”

Her best friend smiled, not angered by her snappish reply. “Why don’t you just fuck Calder and get him out of your system?”

“I’m done with bikers, especially ones like him.”

“What you got against Calder, other than he stood you up all those years ago? Damn, girl, that’s ancient history.”

“He may not be using anymore, but he fucks any bitch who steps into the club.”

“He was a horny toad when he got out of prison, but he’s calmed his roll down.”

“We’ve known Calder since we were nineteen; he’s always been a player. All the brothers are. I’m looking for something better, like a man who doesn’t straddle a bike. Sam’s got a car in his driveway. I’m not a kid anymore, and the bitches coming into the club are getting younger and younger. My ass isn’t getting any smaller.” Crazy Bitch stared at herself in the wall of mirrors facing the chairs. She tugged down her smock that covered her top. “I’m getting a muffin top.”

Sex Piston grabbed the broom from her. “Then quit eating out with Fat Louise and drink water instead of beer.”

She sank down on one of the spinning chairs. “I’m getting old.”

“Bullshit! You’re not getting old; you’re just fucking depressed because Killyama doesn’t hang out with you, and me and Fat Louise’s been busy with the kids.”

“Kids that I’m never going to have if I don’t get my ass in gear.”

“You can’t settle for Sam just because you’re lonely.”

“Why not? Sam might not be Mr. Perfect, but sometimes a girl has to settle for Mr. Boring.”

“Crazy Bitch, you need to get laid. If you’ve nicknamed him Mr. Boring, he’s not for you.”

She watched as Sex Piston swept up Calder’s hair and dumped it into the trash. “Why do you think he wanted to know my name?”

Sex Piston rolled her eyes. “Because he’s interested in you. He has been since he met you. Calder’s been straight a while now—go for it.”

“If it doesn’t work out with Sam, I’m going on a singles’ cruise. If I don’t meet someone there, I’m going to ask Jonas out. If none of that works, I’ll think about giving Calder another chance.”

“What if he hooks up with another woman while you’re thinking about it?”

“Then it wasn’t meant to be.”

“I’m going to call Lucky. You need more guidance than I can give you if you believe that shit.”

Crazy Bitch looked out the front window. “Stud’s here. You really going camping?”

“Got out of it the last three times. I’m out of excuses.”

“You know, if you and Stud break up, I’m going to be the first one in line to steal him from you.” Crazy Bitch was only half-joking.

“Aren’t you forgettin’ something?”

“What?” She stood up, going for her own purse and taking out the keys to lock the shop’s door.

“He’s a biker,” Sex Piston pointed out as they went out the door together.

“I’d make an exception for him.”

“If you would make Stud an exception, why not Calder?”

“They might share the same DNA, but that’s where the similarities end.”

“I can’t blame you where Calder is concerned—he was a dick to you that night. But there are more fish in the sea than the Destructors or the Blue Horsemen. How about one of The Last Riders? We can get Killyama to fix you up with one of them. Rider is still single.”

“I told you, no more bikers, and he’s the biggest biker of them all.”

“He’s big, not fat,” Sex Piston argued back as they went to the RV that Stud had rented for the weekend. “You’ve never cared about a man’s weight before. Joker was carrying that beer gut, and you didn’t care.”

“Still don’t care. I was talking about him owning over twenty motorcycles.”

“That many?”

“That’s what Killyama says.”

“Damn, then Stud is lucky I didn’t know that before he married me. I might have given him a twirl or two.”

When Sex Piston opened the door to the RV, the sounds of Meri and Keri fighting over which movie to watch, and Star yelling that Harley wouldn’t give her the Nintendo Switch she had gotten for her birthday back, had Sex Piston wincing as she went up the steps.

“When you make that reservation for the cruise, make me one. My ass will be sitting on the lido deck in two months.” She turned toward her kids. “Rocky, give it back. It’s hers.”

“Mom!” her son whined from the mysterious depths of the RV. “Quit calling me Rocky. It’s a baby name.”

“Then give it back before I come back there, Harley!”

Crazy Bitch jumped back when Sex Piston slammed the door shut with a hard thump. Getting into her car, she drove to the hospital where Sam worked.

Pulling to the front door, she made it with a minute to spare before Sam walked out.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” he asked as he got into the front seat next to her.

“I’m sure. Mine has a bigger back seat.”

“Mine has floorboards.”

Crazy Bitch ignored his wary expression of the car as she drove. The apple green paint had turned into a puke green, interspersed with rust, the upholstery inside had metal springs showing through, and the floor had gaps so large that if you weren’t careful, you could lose a foot.

“It’s a classic. The motor is like new.” She gave him an irritated glance at his patronizing attitude.

Sam scooted across the seat with a pained expression, laying an arm over the seat. “I don’t mind the car. I just want my girl driving what she deserves.”

“What do I deserve to drive?” Crazy Bitch played along as Sam tried to get himself out of the shit his attitude had dug him in.

“I see you driving a red Miata, or a Mustang.”

“I don’t have that kind of money working as a hairdresser.”

“I could help you out.”

“Sam, we’ve only been seeing each other for a month. I don’t want your money, and you shouldn’t be offering.”

Crazy Bitch found them a parking spot in the back row, pulling the car forward enough so they could hang the speaker on the back window. Sam sheepishly got out of the car as she did, sliding into the back seat next to her.

Damn, she hated it when men pouted. She was terrible at pandering to a man’s ego.

Tomorrow was her day off; she might as well start searching for a cruise.

They spent the first part of the movie in silence.

“You want a popcorn or a soda?” she offered when Sam never offered to go to the concession stand himself.

“No.”

Crazy Bitch squirmed out of the back seat so the speaker wouldn’t fall, tempted to get back in the driver’s seat and leave. If she wanted to spend her Friday night with an asshole, she could spend it at the club.

The concession stand wasn’t busy. She wished it’d take longer, already planning on leaving as soon as her snacks were gone. There weren’t many cars tonight. Some families had spread blankets out, letting the children play as the movie was projected onto the large screen. Even fewer couples were sitting in the back seat like her and Sam were. She hoped they were having a better time than she was.

She awkwardly maneuvered herself back into the back seat and had just managed to take a couple sips from her drink and a few bites of her popcorn before she saw Sam’s eyes glittering at her in the darkness.

“Mind sharing?”

Crazy Bitch wanted to tell him to fuck off. Instead, she raised the popcorn in offer.

Her date was becoming a pain in the ass. She promised herself that, once it was over, she wouldn’t see him again.

She sat there thinking, not watching the movie. Was it because Calder had come into the shop tonight, highlighting the difference between the two men, that she was now reevaluating her decision to give bikers up? Nah, she was done with bikers. Just because Sam was a wuss didn’t mean that all men who weren’t bikers were.

“Would you mind getting me a drink? This popcorn is making me thirsty.” Sam stared at her.

Crazy Bitch didn’t mind sharing popcorn, but there was no way she was going to be trading spit with him when she had decided to give him the heave-ho.

“Why can’t you go get it yourself?” she snapped.

“Come on; I’m tired. I had to be at work at six this morning.”

He might have been at work, but she could guarantee the jerk hadn’t been standing on his feet all day like she had been. At this point, she just wanted to go home.

Handing him her drink, she sidled out of the car again, berating herself along the way for not asking for the money to pay for it.

Every single fucking time she bragged about something, it bit her on the ass.

Taking out her money from her jean pocket, she paid for Sam’s drink then went back to the car, giving him a harassed expression as she got back in.

The walk to the concession stand had her thirstily taking a sip of the soda she had just bought.

“That one’s mine.” Sam tried to take it from her.

“I’ve already taken a drink out of it; you can have the other one.”

“I haven’t drunk that much out of it. You have a problem drinking after me?”

She narrowed her eyes on him suspiciously. She only had one rule with men: she never left her drink alone, no matter how well she knew them.

“Never mind, you can have them both. I’m not thirsty anymore.” Sam tried to hand her the first soda she had bought.

“You think I got cooties?”

“No! I said I’m not thirsty anymore.” Sam’s tried to explain at her caustic tone.

The fucker was lying.

“Take a drink,” Crazy Bitch ordered, as Sam tried to shrink away when she tried to lift the soda to his lips.

“Fine! What’s your problem?”

She might not be able to get a clear look at his expression, but she could hear the worry in his voice.

She rose up, pressing the button on the overhead light so she could see better.

“What are you doing?” Sam stared at her owlishly at the sudden light.

“Watching you take a drink.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’ll apologize after you take a couple of sips.”

As Sam lifted the drink to his lips, her eyes stayed on the tip of the straw, seeing the jerk had squeezed it closed so no soda could get up it.

“You bastard, you tried to roofie me?” She snapped her hand out, knocking the cup out of his hand. The top came off, spilling soda all over him.

“You’re crazy. Why would I roofie you when any man in town can have you?”

The spineless little weasel was getting brave, knowing he had been caught.

“Cocksucker, there’s one man I haven’t given it to, and that’s you! How many women have you done this to?”

“No one! I wasn’t trying to roofie you. You need to go to a psychiatrist; you’re just as crazy as everyone says you are.”

“Let me show you how fucking crazy I am.” Angry, she punched him in the nose, soda still in hand, splattering both of them. Then, furious that he had tried to roofie her, she started whaling on him in the backseat.

His normally good-natured expression vanished at her first hit, turning into the ugly she had seen from Joker when she had broken up with him.

The malice Sam held in his fists that punched her in her face and ribs showed he had been biding his time before showing his true colors. Thankfully, she had been in several fights and was able to fight him off. When his hands went around her throat, she quit playing nice and used her nails to scratch his eyes out.

“You fucking bitch!” Sam shot up from trying to pin her to the back seat. She used the opportunity to lean against the door and kick him in the stomach.

“Get out of my car, or I’m calling the cops!” Reaching for the speaker, she threatened, “I’m going to brain you if you don’t get the fuck out.”

Sam fumbled for the door handle. When he finally found it, he practically fell out of the car.

Rising up, she slammed the car door shut and locked both doors on that side of the vehicle. With one move, she threw the speaker out the window on her side and locked that door before jumping over the console into the front seat.

Sam hit the window, nearly shattering the glass. “Take me home!”

“You can walk, asshole!” she screamed back at him.

Turning the key, she threw the car into gear and left his ass yelling at her as she drove off.

“Fucking douchebag! The brothers are going to beat his sorry ass to death when I tell them what happ—”

Crazy Bitch cut off her own rant. There was no way she was going to tell them that slimy bastard had been able to get a hand on her and almost roofied her after she had told everyone in the club she was done with bikers. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit she had been that stupid to be taken in by that little wimp.

She kept her head down as she walked from the parking lot to her apartment. Fortunately, no one was around, so she made it inside without being seen.

Locking the door behind her, she went into the bathroom and got a good look at her face.

“Son of a bitch!” she snarled, gingerly touching the beginning of a black eye, remembering when his elbow had struck her.

Going to her kitchen, she opened the freezer and took out a plastic bag of frozen fish sticks. She held it to her swelling eye as she made her way to her bedroom, hoping the swelling would be gone by Monday so she could hide it with makeup.

Crazy Bitch spent the rest of the weekend holed up in her apartment. By Sunday afternoon, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her black eye.

Picking up her phone, she made the call she had been hoping she wouldn’t have to make.

“Yo,” Sex Piston answered after a couple of rings.

“How was the camping trip?”

“How in the fuck do you think it went? I’ve already told Stud that shit isn’t going to happen again. If I wanted to spend a weekend in a trailer for fun, I could spend it in town where I can at least order pizza. How did your date with Sam go?”

“Okay. I’ve decided not to see him anymore.”

“That mean you’re going to give Calder a go?”

“No, it means I’m going to take a cruise when I can afford it. Listen, I ate Taco Hut, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to work for a couple of days. You mind if I reschedule my appointments until the end of the week?”

“Why in the fuck you eat there? You hate that place.”

“I was craving a taco. Believe me; I’ve already been blaming myself.”

“Next time, make them yourself.”

“I will. So, you don’t mind?”

“Nope, they’re your appointments, your money.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you Wednesday if I feel better.”

“If you need anything, let me know,” Sex Piston offered. “I can get Fat Louise or T.A. to get it for you,” she joked.

“I’m good. Bye.” Crazy Bitch disconnected the call then tossed her cell phone onto the couch next to her.

She mentally calculated how much she would lose from taking the days off. The appointments could be rescheduled, but she wouldn’t be able to accept other appointments for the rest of the week. She came to the conclusion that men always cost her money, whether they drove a bike or a car.

Reaching for her cell phone again, she went to her banking app, using her thumbprint when it asked for her identification. She stared dismally at her account balance. Her rent was due today, and she was five dollars short, the five dollars she had spent on Sam’s popcorn and drink. She had practically paid for herself to be almost roofied.

She sank back down onto the couch dispiritedly, tossing her phone back down. “Doesn’t that say it all?”