Unacceptable (2 page)

“I’m from a few states over. Making a break for it.” I chugged half my beer.

“Running ain’t always a bad thing. Vilas is a good town. Hopefully you’ll like it here.”

“How much do I owe you for these?”

I bit my lip slowly and watched Holt’s cheeks flare as he rubbed the back of his neck and stuttered a bit. “It was taken care of.” He held up his hand to stop me from taking my wallet out of my purse.

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “Abel told me to put it on his tab. So you’re good to go.”

Wow. Sweet, mysterious, and hot. I might have to give this town and Abel a trial run.

“Thanks, Holt. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He nodded. “Hope you get some rest.”

“I look that bad, huh?”

Holt smiled sweetly as he shook his head. “Nah, you just look like you’ve been traveling for a while and need a hot shower and a bed.”

“Well then I look the way I feel. That Abel guy, he’s all right?” I should have been more subtle, but I was worn out and beating around the bush seemed more draining than what it was worth.

“Yeah, he’s one of the best guys I know. Tough skin but a fucking heart of gold.”

“Good to know.” I chugged the rest of my beer and threw a couple dollars on the bar. Holt’s sweet smile spread wider as the guys came back out from the backroom, or abyss, or wherever they’d all run off to in such a hurry. To my dismay, Abel was not in the group that filed back into their bar seats. I waved goodbye to Holt and made my way to finally get the shuteye that I desperately needed.

Chapter 2.

Rounding the corner, I saw the neon vacancy light shining bright above the motel’s front office door. The dimly lit gravel parking lot crunched under the tires of my crying car. It was time to put more power steering fluid in for sure. I grabbed the plastic bottle of fluid from the floorboard of the passenger side and fixed the problem. At least there were a few things I could do under the hood of my car to make it run at a somewhat decent level. Growing up where most of the guys around built mud trucks had its perks from time to time.

Looking around as I made my way into the office, I noticed a few cars scattered around the lot, all with out of state plates. It was nice to know that other out-of-towners stopped there. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it comforted me to know that other travelers felt safe enough to crash there too.

The bell chimed above my head as I walked into the small office that smelled like mothballs and stale pizza. A sweet girl peeked up from a school book the was laid out on the counter. “Hey miss. Lookin’ for a room?”

I nodded. “Sure am.”

“Smoking or nonsmoking?”

Even though I was a smoker, the thought of stale cigarette smoke embedded in the pillows made me want to hurl on the spot.

“Nonsmoking.”

“All right. I just need a credit card to hold the room. How many nights will you be our guest?”

For not being more than thirteen, she was very articulate and polite. I was pretty impressed by her.

“I’m not sure, actually.” I dug my hands into my pockets; it felt unnerving as hell to not have any plan whatsoever.

“Longer than a week?”

I shrugged. “Possibly.”

“We have weekly specials, you’ll save fifty bucks that way.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Perfect.” She punched a few keys on the dinosaur of a computer that was in front of me. “If anything changes, just come on in and let us know.” Her kind eyes and sweet smile settled down my growing nerves as she handed me a key with a giant red plastic ornament-looking keychain on it.

“You’re on the first floor, three doors over on the left.”

I handed her my credit card and license. “All right, Miss Hayes. You’re all set.”

“Thanks.” With a quick wave, I was off to finally lie down in a bed for a much needed night’s sleep, even though it was still the afternoon.

The light shining through the window stung my tired eyes as I groggily started to wake up. I had no idea what time I had actually crashed the day before. I’d barely even had time to turn the lights off before I hit the pillow and passed out, let alone undress, take off my makeup, or look at the clock.

Rolling over, bright red numbers blared eleven fifteen at me as my stomach started to rumble. After peeling myself from the pillow-topped mattress that felt like a lumpy heaven, I dug through the duffle bag that contained my life until I found my favorite pair of jeans and a yoga top.

I glanced at the bright red smear on the pillow from my favorite lipstick and the black dots from my mascara. Thankfully I was not the one that was going to have to wrestle with those stains.

Within minutes the faucet was pumping steaming water into the tub. A nice long soak felt like a dream for my tired body. The trip hadn’t been emotional until it all crashed onto me as I sunk to the bottom of that porcelain bath. I was free. I was finally freaking free, and I felt bad about it.

The image of my mom figuring out that I was gone broke into my mind and ripped my heart apart. But who was I kidding? If she hadn’t started blowing up my phone yet, she had no idea. She was probably still in a haze of meth and booze from another week-long binge.

Right before I left, I could tell that’s where she was heading anyway. It was the perfect time to escape: I would be so far gone by the time she was halfway conscious that it wouldn’t matter.

“Critter!” Her hollow cry came from the back bedroom.

I rolled my eyes at her dumbass nickname for me. Wasn’t my real name bad enough?

“Yeah Ma?”

“Get me a fucking coke from the fridge.”

I grabbed the last can of soda from the barren wasteland she called a refrigerator.

I hurriedly popped the top and walked it back to her where she was laying in bed, sick as a dog from yet another withdrawal.

“Here. I gotta get to work.”

Her shaking hand wrapped around the can as her sunken, dark eyes begged me for mercy. She didn’t have to ask; I knew what I needed to do.

“Yeah. I think Vinnie is working tonight. I’ll see what I can get.”

“That’s my girl. Thank you, Crit.”

“I’ll be back late though. Try to sleep and don’t let anyone come over with you sick like this. I don’t want this place to get robbed again.”

I snapped out of my daze of strolling down terrible memory lane when the sound of splattering water echoed in the tiny bathroom. Looking over the side of the tub, I realized about half an inch of water was starting to coat the off white tiles.

Shit.

I lunged for the faucet, turned off the water, and sunk back in to relax and let my fingers and toes get pruney. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had time to relax like that. The quiet and the peacefulness were almost disturbing. It was a far cry from the cursing, fighting neighbors and my mom hollering at me or moaning in some john’s ear all the time.

Good riddance to all that bull crap.

Giving in to my roaring stomach, I drained the water and got dressed. I laid towels on the floor of my soaking wet bathroom to lap up the water that had spilled over.

I made my way to the closest Waffle House my phone’s GPS could find. Luckily it was just up the road and I had a hankering for greasy cooking and a pot of coffee. I quickly scarfed down some scattered, smothered, covered, and chunked hashbrowns with two eggs over easy on the side and tried to think about what my next move was going to be.

Not having a plan was both liberating and frustrating. I knew that the money I had was going to go faster than I could admit to myself. I checked the classified section for jobs while I sipped on hours-old coffee. I wasn’t really built to be a stable hand, and I didn’t think there was a strip joint in Vilas.

As I was getting up to pay my check, Holt and the older bartender walked through the front door. Holt ambled over to me with a sweet smile on his face.

“Nice to see you haven’t left our little town yet. Thinkin’ about sticking around?” He spit into a Dixie cup and I could smell the wintergreen chew that was wadded up in his lower lip.

I held up the paper and shrugged. “A girl’s gotta eat and there ain’t any jobs here for me it seems.”

“Hey Bucky, aren’t we still looking for a daytime bartender?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the one Abel hired last week quit on me Monday night.”

“Well there ya have it. I’ll talk to Abel about it. Come by in a few hours and we’ll get ya all set up.”

Just like that I had a freaking job in a town I wasn’t even sure I was going to stay in. At least I knew I was going to be able to keep a roof over my head and hopefully finance another move, if nothing else.

Chapter 3.

After going back to the motel, making sure my makeup was perfect, and changing my outfit at least ten times, I went to the bar to see if Holt had been able to talk Abel into hiring me.

“Hey, Crickett,” Holt called to me from behind the bar. “Abel should be here any minute. Just got off the phone with him.”

“Yeah? How’d it go?”

Holt was counting the register’s drawer. He glanced up from a wad of twenties. “I think he is interested.”

“Sounds good.” I took a seat at the bar, throwing my purse on the counter with a big thump.

Holt stared at my bag for a second. “Do ya have rocks in there or something?”

I laughed a little. “Never seen a girl with a concealed carry before?”

“Yeah, but none that looked like you.”

I felt my cheeks burn as the front door swung open. Abel’s large frame took up most of the doorway. My heart pounded in my ears, my palms started sweating, and suddenly it was stifling hot in the dank bar.

“So Holt here says you’re looking for a job?” Abel took the seat next to me; the musky smell of his cologne and his deep blue stare were all too distracting.

I fumbled for words. “Yeah, figured I’d give this little town a try for a bit. Who knows? Maybe I’ll end up liking it here.”

“When can you start?”

“Now.”

He smirked. “Have you ever worked in a bar before?”

I laughed a little. I kind of had, but I’d been dancing, not pouring the drinks. “Something like that.”

I winked and watched his mind try to make sense of it. “I guess that’s good enough for me. Holt can start training you now, if that works for you.”

I hopped off the stool and didn’t think twice about going behind the bar to let Holt start showing me around.

“Damn it, isn’t one of you going to ask if your boss wants a freaking beer?” Abel half-smirked at me as Holt tossed a bottle over to him from the ice trough in front of us. Opening the bottle, Abel got up and started to make his way to the back room. “That’s more like it. And Crickett,” he pointed at me with the top of the bottle, “this area is off limits to anyone that isn’t wearing a damn cut like mine. Got it?”

I nodded.

His lip curled under the silver rings as he pulled the door open. “Good.”

After a few days of working at the bar, I started to get to know most of the guys: which ones tipped well, which ones were drunk flirts, which ones treated chicks like dirt. It was all pretty much like stripping, other than the fact that the guys had to use their imaginations to know what my curves looked like rather than just trying to bribe me to get stark naked during a lap dance. All in all it was a welcome change of pace.

Only a few women passed through with their guys from time to time. Most of them just ignored me or were so snarky that I didn’t give them the time of day. The only lady I remotely had an interest in talking to was Ronda, the part-time night bartender who only came in on nights that she felt like it, or when Abel called her in when Holt or Rich were too slammed to think straight.

She was tall and crack-head skinny with leathery skin, nice as could be with a mouth like a sailor. Other than that, I had no female contact, which I actually preferred. Women bred drama and problems and I wanted to stay as far as humanly possible from both of those things.

While cleaning a bunch of dirty pint glasses off the bar I heard Abel talking to one of the older club members. “Rave will be gone handling everything for a few more days. Hopefully it all works out.”

“Sure it will. Rave has a way with those guys over in Arkansas.”

Hearing the name Rave and my home state in the same sentence sent shivers down my arms. I had no idea if it was just a coincidence; it probably was.
Right?
I could not picture my father being part of a motorcycle gang, but who the fuck was I to make any judgements either way? I barely remembered him, let alone knew him. He could have been sitting in that very bar and I would have had no idea.

“Crickett?” Abel waved his hand in front of my face. “Crickett, you all right sugar?”

I shook out of my daze of trying to picture my old man’s face again. It scared the shit out of me how hard it was to remember his physical features anymore.

“Yeah.” I smiled and stretched out my back. “Need another whiskey?” I pointed to the empty glass in front of him.

He shook his head. “We have to get out of here. Won’t be too long.”

He and the older guy got up with a few of the other men sitting at the bar. They all pulled cash out of their wallets, paid, and went on their way.

“You going to be okay here for a few hours? I need to go take care of some other shit for a bit.”

Holt started wiping up the counter and throwing the empty beer bottles into the trash.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be back later to finish out the night shift so you don’t have to work another double.”

I shrugged. “Can’t complain about the money. Do what you have to do.”

My shift was pretty uneventful. A few of the regulars popped in and out, but there was nothing to write home about until a group of guys walked in. They looked to be a few years older than me and were completely out of place with their grungy, messy-but-put-together-messy look. Their hair and outfits were like controlled chaos.

The five-some took seats right in front of me at the empty bar.

“What are y’all havin’?”

“Do you guys have PBR?”

They were all tattooed and incredibly good looking, with an accent that I could not place.

I nodded. “Five PBRs coming up, boys.”

After setting their beers down, curiosity got the better of me. “So what brings y’all to this neck of the woods?”

The guy on the end, who had a mohawk and tattoos on his skull, looked up from peeling the label off his bottle. “We’re in a band. Playing in a show tomorrow night right up the road.”

“Are y’all like famous or somethin’?”

The guy next to him, who had a sweet, seductive face, smirked. “I guess you could say that.”

“So what band are y’all with?”

Tatted-Skull guy chimed in again. “We’re The Hysterics. I’m Maverick, this is Colt, Dane, and Rodney. And that guy on the end is Quints, our head roadie. We’re playing a concert at App State.”

The guys started chatting among themselves as the front door swung open. Abel strode in with Holt and a few other members following closely behind. Holt came back behind the bar and the rest went to the pool tables.

“You good?” Holt leaned over my way, grabbing beers to bring to Abel’s group.

“Yeah. Go hang out for a bit if you want. It’s been dead all day. I’ll stick around a little longer.”

He glanced over at the five guys. “You sure?”

Holt had an edge about him that I hadn’t seen before. He was usually quiet but sweet, not edgy and protective.

I nodded. “Yes. Now get out of here before you lower my tip.” I batted my eyelashes dramatically and shoved Holt’s shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw Abel’s jaw churning while his eyes bored holes in Holt, but by the time my gaze snapped to meet his, Abel was winking at me, flashing his killer smile.

Weak knees.

Heart pounding.

Lady parts begging for me to tackle him onto that pool table.

After about an hour of chatting up the band members and roadie and catching Abel looking at me more and more, the flirty side of me decided to take over. Part of me wanted to see how jealous I could make Abel and the other part was just plain bored.

“Do any of you boys have a smoke I can bum?”

Quints, the least good looking one out of them all, slid off his barstool and drug a pack of cowboy killers out of his front pocket. “Mind if I join you?”

I shook my head, walking around the bar toward the door. “The company is welcomed.” I turned to call over to Holt, “Going for a quick smoke. Watch the bar?”

Holt nodded and Quints and I were out the door with lit cigarettes within seconds.

“So how does a chick like you get to be working in a dive bar like this? Shouldn’t you be a model or something?”

Talk about laying it on thick straight out of the gate.

I forced a flirty giggle, twirling my hair as I let out a puff of white smoke, making sure I was standing right in the window in direct view of Abel, who was deliberately not looking our way. “I’m new in these parts. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

He ashed and the wind whisked it right onto the bottom of my shirt. “Oh shit sorry.” He started to brush the grey off for me, taking a step closer—way closer than I would have wanted him to, but I was kind of flirting so who could blame him for trying to make a move?

I giggled again. “It’s nothing really.”

“I’m such a goof.”

He took a step closer. I could smell the beer on his breath.

Gross.

“You should come to the show tomorrow night. You could hang out backstage with me.” He leaned in a little closer. Kneeing him in the crotch crossed my mind for if he tried to touch me again.

I took a step back, crashing against the brick wall next to the window. His hand landed on my hip and I was ready to take a swing. Right then, Abel busted through the door like a bat out of hell, fire blazing in his eyes.

He stomped over and without a word, his fist landed square on Quints’ jaw.

I gasped. “Abel, what the hell?” I shoved him. “Wrong move.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “This drunk asshole is not going to hit on you in my bar.”

Quints bowed up a little and Abel growled. “Do something about it, punk. I fucking dare you.”

I watched as Abel’s jaw flexed and Quints’ fists tightened while he stood there silent like a little pansy.

I put my hand on Quints’ chest. “Let’s get some ice on that before it swells. Abel here needs to learn some goddamn manners.”

I had to at least play pissed, even though I was silently thanking Abel for keeping me from having to be the one to defend myself. I knew that I had brought it on myself, but can’t a girl have a smoke with a guy without him trying to get into her pants?

Before I could even take a step, Abel’s hand was on my arm. “You,” he pointed at Quints, “get your damn friends and get the hell out of here.” He turned to me. “I need a moment alone with my
employee.
” He snarled as his grip got a little tighter than necessary.

I was ready to start yelling. Who the hell did he think he was, pulling a damn stunt like that? He didn’t own me.

Quints practically ran into the bar, right as I was starting to raise my voice to my sex-on-a-stick boss that had never been more attractive to me than in that moment.

“Abel! What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”

He spun me around and pressed me up against the wall, pinning me between his rock solid chest and the bricks.

His voice was low as his hot breath danced on my neck. “I think that guy was no good and I was protecting what’s mine.”

“You don’t own me, Abel.”

“We’ll see about that, sugar. I get what I want.”

If he only knew that he could have had me before pulling a stunt like this. Other than the quick glances and the short comments, he’d never shown any interest in getting in my pants.

Well this escalated quickly.

Even though I was pissed, my heart raced and desire for him to take me right there coursed through my veins.

“What are you saying, Abel? That you want me? Newsflash, you’re supposed to let people know when you want them, not stare at them from across the bar and never talk to them.”

His lips got within an inch of mine. I braced myself for a kiss that never came. If I was a dude, I would have had blue balls. I definitely had the lady equivalent as my throbbing clit begged for him to press me harder against that wall.

“Everyone can tell, Crickett. It’s not just about keeping our mouths shut. They can see it all over my face and yours. You’re mine. And that is that.”

“Keeping our mouths shut about what? Abel are you shitfaced or something?”