CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Friday morning, Manda saw Streak at the bar in the main club room, his focus on a laptop computer. Gathering her courage, she asked him if she could use it later, to look for a job. He looked at the time and nodded once. "Have at it. I gotta go pick up Javier."
"Thanks," she said. "I'll be very careful. What shall I do with it when I'm through, put it in Rocker's room till you get back?"
"Sure." He gave her the password, gathered up a folder of papers from the bar. "Oh, and the wi-fi's best in the bar here if that's what you want."
"Okay. Have fun with your little guy."
He smiled, his gaze softening. "Thanks. I will."
"I'd love to see some pictures of him. Later, if you have time."
"Sure thing." He headed off and Manda perched up on a barstool and got busy on the laptop. It was not new, and either it or the wi-fi was very slow at times, but she found several job listings, and brought up her email to send them to herself on her phone.
Two were in Airway Heights, one at a local coffee shop called the Flying Bean. The town was definitely into the flight motif, although this was hardly surprising with both a city airport and a USAF base nearby. She'd heard planes passing overhead on a regular basis since she'd been here.
The barista job sounded like something she'd enjoy. The other Heights opening was for a bookkeeper. Shyeah, that one was out.
She searched on, through lists on all the big job sites she could find, and finally had more than twenty. Most of which sounded sort of awful, but it wasn't like she could afford to be picky. Especially with no references.
"Hey, blondie," called a rough voice. "You not workin' in the kitchen today? Ain't nothin' to eat around here."
Startled, Manda looked up from typing in a new search to see one of the bikers, Cooler, standing at the corner of the hallway. His short, bleach blonde hair stood up in messy spikes on his head, and he was scratching his belly through a tee that looked as if it should've been washed at least two wearings ago. The parts of him not covered by hair or clothing were covered in ink.
"Uh, I'm not, no," she said, searching the main room for anyone else who might be around. "I usually make lunch, but—"
"Aw, c'mon," he said, rubbing his head. "I'm hungry now. You wanna earn your keep, come and make me up somethin'. Breakfast, lunch, I don't care."
Earn her keep? Well, she was trying to do everything she could to help out in return for the Flyers' letting her stay here.
"Sure," she said, sliding off her bar stool. "I can make you something. Uh, so breakfast work for you?"
"Yeah, and coffee too. Head's killin' me."
Manda skirted him as widely as she could without making it obvious, but even at a distance, he reeked of stale alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. Hungover, for certain. She'd witnessed Tim in this shape more than a few times—although Tim at least showered regularly.
She got out eggs, bread and bacon, and set up to cook the biker a solid breakfast. He shambled into the kitchen and slouched in a chair, head in his hands. "Bring me some coffee soon as it's done."
"Please," she added, although under her breath. The bacon frying, she started up the surprisingly state-of-the-art coffee maker, adding enough for several cups, as she'd noticed Webb seemed to drink coffee all day.
This made her think of JJ's auto. What the front office needed was one of those Keurig machines, where a person could make their own single cup. It would be nice for customers while they waited, and the guys could have coffee, or cocoa too.
If she got a job, maybe by Christmas she could afford to give them a machine, and a couple of boxes of the little pods. She'd noticed the machines weren't expensive. It was the pods that were pricey.
She served Cooler his cup of coffee, with cream and sugar on the side, and then chopped some cooked potato in the pan, browning that before frying a couple of eggs on the side. A slice of buttered toast added, and it was ready.
He accepted the plate with a grunt, and held out his empty cup. Wow, this guy made T-Bear, with his somewhat rough manners, look like a gentleman straight out of GQ.
Then she smiled to herself as she pictured T posing for the cover of the men's fashion magazine, clad in a sharp suit, with his hair slicked back, his beard and mustache trimmed up. Why, he'd be drop-dead gorgeous.
Lost in this pleasant daydream, she brought Cooler his brimming refill. She was reaching to set it down when his hand contacted the back of her thigh, just under the curve of her ass, his fingers probing deep between her thighs. "Thanks, babe. Maybe after I eat, you can—"
Anything else he might have said was lost forever, because at this startling, invasive, and frankly disgusting touch, Manda jerked as if she'd been tazed, and let out a shriek.
Her arm jerked as well, and hot coffee flew through the air, to land on her wrist, and all over Cooler's thigh and crotch.
"Ow!" he bellowed. "Ow, fuck! You clumsy bitch—ow, fuck, that hurts."
He shot out of his chair. It banged to the floor, and he grabbed for the fastening of his jeans, trying to yank them down and off. "Fuck, you burned me!"
Manda scuttled backward, still clutching the nearly empty cup, her other hand clamped on her burned wrist, her eyes and mouth wide. She was shaking her head, her heart pounding, sweat breaking out all over her skin. "No... I-I didn't mean to..."
Stick Vanko appeared in the kitchen doorway, taking in the scene in an instant. "There a problem here?"
"The bitch burned my pecker!" Cooler howled, clutching himself and bent over, his pants now around his ankles.
He unfortunately went commando, which meant his ass was on view. The tattoo on his left butt cheek was so odd Manda stared, before yanking her gaze back to the Flyers' president, who was watching her, not Cooler.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking. "It was an accident."
"I saw. Cooler, get some cold water on that. If you got blisters that need seen to, I'll drive you in myself."
The biker stumbled to the door, holding his pants up with one hand. He turned a vengeful stare on Manda, who cowered back against the kitchen counter behind her.
"Maybe you didn't hear," Stick told went on, angling his very big, tall body to urge Cooler out the kitchen door. "Manda was roughed up, ended up in the hospital. That's why she's here—under club protection. She's jittery, but meant no offense. Right, Manda?"
Manda nodded quickly. "I'm sorry," she said again, tears filling her eyes. "I'm so sorry."
With a muttered curse, Cooler disappeared.
"You get burned too?" Stick asked, giving a nod to Manda’s wrist. "Best run some cold water on that."
Not wanting to turn her back on the big room just now, she stood with her side against the sink and reached with one hand to turn on the tap. Luckily, while a patch of skin on her wrist was reddened and painful, it didn't look as if it would blister. A bag of frozen peas held on it with a wet towel abated the sting a lot.
No way was she going anywhere near that creep Cooler, to offer him a bag of frozen veggies.
She was embarrassed, but also pissed off. How dare that biker put his hand up there on her thigh? Like he didn't have to ask, just take. He’d almost touched her privates! She wouldn't even want T-Bear to do that in public.
Maybe it was wrong, but she wasn't sorry she'd spilled that coffee on him. Not one bit.
"Saw what happened," Stick told her, lingering in the doorway. "I'll make sure Cooler understands this ends here. You want someone to look at your arm?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm fine."
"Da, good enough. Frozen veggies is a good idea, I'll get a bag for Cooler." He did—a jumbo size—and then strode off, to get on with ruling his biker brethren—who were not all as nice and well-behaved as she'd convinced herself.
Manda waited only until he was gone. Then she bolted into her borrowed bedroom, shut and locked the door.