Chapter 8: Chapter 8

WREN

The next few days go by in a comfortable silence. Lance and I find a sort of groove when working with each other that involves little to no conversation.

His little brother Jeremy is a frequent visitor who comes by to visit and play with Puck, which is great because Puck gets some exercise and stays busy while we work.

The first all-hands-on-deck day goes smoothly as multiple animals and several crates of product are loaded into the backs of trucks.

After the trucks pull away, Logan invites me down to the bunkhouse for burgers and beans, but I decline despite how good their dinner sounds.

Instead I head up to my apartment where I eat the last of my food reserves of power bars, freeze-dried jerky, and cans of beans while I hang out with Puck.

I still have plenty of his expensive food available, but even if I didn’t, I’d feed him before myself.

I’ll be getting paid next week, but until then I need to get creative. Even though Lance offered me an advance, I can’t bring myself to take it.

I’ve been in much more dire financial situations than this and I know how to survive.

***

It’s finally Saturday and, after going on a local hike with Puck, I get ready to head into town. I shower, diffuse my hair so my waves are tamed, slip into some tight jeans, and put on a scoop-neck top.

I dab a little blush on my cheeks and sweep some mascara on my lashes—nothing special but it’s the most effort I can manage, and I don’t imagine it takes much around here.

Finally, I slip my only piece of jewelry around my neck: a necklace made from two intertwined silver rings.

Twenty minutes later, I stroll into the Rusty Ram Saloon, a dive bar in Bryxton with several pool tables and cheap beer. I feel several pairs of eyes follow me as I slowly make my way up to the bar.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks.

“Club soda with a lime please,” I say. His eyebrow goes up but he places a glass of soda water with a lime on a napkin in front of me.

“Enjoy,” he says politely before leaving to help another customer.

I turn around and scan the pool tables before I spot my target. A group of large, loud men are playing pool. Their table is covered in empty pitchers and in the center is a large stack of cash.

I lean on a high-top table near them and watch with a small smile on my face. Sure enough, one of them bites.

A dark-haired man with a mustache and goatee approaches me.

“Hey beautiful, can I buy you a drink?”

I smile. “I already have a drink, but…” I look at their pool table and gently lick my lips. “Can I join your game?”

He looks at his crew then back at me. I look up at him through my lashes. He smiles. ~Bingo~.

“You sure? They’re pretty serious about the game.”

“I understand.” I nod and smile again.

“Okay. They’re almost done, I’ll buy you in for the next round. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Wren,” I say. “And you?”

“Paul. Nice to meet you, Wren.”

Suddenly, loud voices erupt from Paul’s group as someone is declared a winner after sinking the eight ball. Paul gestures for me to move toward the group.

“Guys, this is Wren, she wants to play.”

All five men look me up and down. The largest man, a middle-aged guy with a shaved head and no neck, talks first.

“I won. You sure you want to play me, little thing?”

It takes everything in me not to poke his eyes out. I just smile sweetly and nod.

“I used to play. It looks fun!”

They all laugh.

“Okay, sweetheart, it’s $50 a game. You good for it?”

Paul opens his wallet. Several bills are folded up inside. He slides $50 out.

“I’m buying her in, Tad.”

Tad laughs and shakes his head. “It’s your money, Paul.”

Two $50 bills lay on the table. While Tad goes to take a piss and get a refill, I pick the best cue left on the wall and chalk up.

“You know how to shoot, sweetheart?” Paul asks.

“Sure! I assume ya’ll don’t play slop?”

“That’s right. Tad’s a ringer so don’t feel bad if you lose. Then we can get that drink after.” Paul winks at me.

“Okay,” I say sweetly. Tad returns and everyone settles into their drinks as Tad racks.

“Can you break?” Tad asks.

I shrug. “Yeah, I think so.”

He laughs again. “Go ahead then.”

I line up. Everyone in the group is chatting except Tad and Paul. The balls crack as four of them sink into random pockets. I feel Tad’s frustration immediately.

“Hmmm, I guess I’ll be solids since more of those went in,” I say. Tad cracks his knuckles.

I say, “Right corner,” then sink another ball. I do the same on the other side of the table. Tad clenches his cue so hard his fingers are white.

Finally, I miss on the next shot.

Tad answers back with three sinks before he misses. He has three left and I have two before we get to the eight ball. I take a sip of my drink then tap a side pocket. My shot goes in.

“Doesn’t count,” Tad barks.

“What do you mean it doesn’t count?” I demand, my mask slipping a little.

“You didn’t call it.”

“I clearly did, I tapped it with my cue.”

Tad squares up with me. He’s at least eighteen inches taller and I have to crane my neck to glare into his eyes.

“Looked like you were tapping the chalk off to me,” he says.

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” I say. “Fine, go.”

“Come on, Tad,” Paul says.

“No, it’s fine, go ahead,” I say with my arms crossed.

Tad smirks as he lines up his shot, calls out his pocket, and sinks it. Then another. ~Damn, we’re tied.~

He has a tricky shot next, my ball is in the way. He could easily send it another way but opts to try and sneak it past mine anyway.

His math is off, or maybe his depth perception, and he ends up hitting mine in while his bounces back into the center of the table.

“Fuck!”

“Oooooh, tough luck!” I say a little too confidently. I can see the veins popping out of ol’ Taddy Boy’s giant neck.

“Just go,” he says through gritted teeth.

I line up my shot. I’d say it’s a medium in difficulty.

“Corner pocket,” I say, and right as I go to shoot, Tad coughs. Still, the eight ball falls in and the cue ball stays on the table.

“You fucking cheated,” Tad says as his crew whoops and hollers.

“Yeah? And how’d I do that?” I ask.

I walk over and put my hand on the money, but Tad’s gigantic, sweaty hand covers mine.

“Double or nothing.”

I look at him.

“So you’re prepared to lose $150?”

He clenches his jaw and gets close to my face.

“I won’t lose.”

I have a feeling he won’t let this go, so even though I’d much rather leave with $100 instead of no dollars, I nod. Tad throws two more $50s on the pile.

“Fine,” I say.

“Rack ‘em,” he says.

“But I won.”

“Yeah, and I won before that. You am not fooling me this time, little girl.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

Now I can’t wait to win money and beat this dude’s ass.

Everyone is silent as Tad breaks. He only gets two in, one of each. I smirk. He sinks one more before missing.

The whole group is silent now. I sink four balls and miss on the fifth. Tad is absolutely seething. He sinks the rest of his and lines up for the eight ball. My stomach clenches.

He misses.

The tension is incredibly high, and despite myself, I feel it well up inside me. I take a deep breath and sink my last ball before lining up for the eight ball.

“Left corner,” I say right before I sink the ball.

“You bitch!” Tad roars.

“Don’t be such a sore loser,” I say. I swipe the money, tuck a $50 into Paul’s shirt pocket, then go to walk away. “Thanks for the game, see you next time.”

Just then, I feel the chain tighten around my neck as Tad grabs my necklace. The rings of my necklace bore into my throat.

“Where do you think you’re going, whore?” Tad growls.

I claw at my neck as I hear the rest of the group attempt to subdue their bullish buddy. My eyes water and I start to choke before the necklace finally snaps.

I stumble and turn around, clutching my throat.

“You can get this back when I get my money back,” Tad says. His eyes are wild and his teeth clenched. His friends are holding him back without much luck.

“Give her the fucking necklace.”

I look over to see Lance and a handful of farmhands approaching us. ~Jesus, I’ve never been so happy to see him.~

“Lance Teller, you vouching for this bitch? Is your dick working again?”

Lance’s face is hard, but he doesn’t blink. “You have three seconds to return the necklace.”

“Or what?”

“You know exactly what, Tad. I’ll break every fucking stool in this bar over your thick skull.”

“Oh yeah? Can you still fight, Lance?”

“Better than you, dipshit.”

Oh no, this is a terrible idea. As Tad and Lance square off and men from both sides start rolling up their sleeves, I finally snap to.

I quickly step between the two men facing Tad.

“Here, I’ll buy it back for $100. Everybody goes home with their teeth.” I hold up two $50s.

Tad looks at me then at Lance over my shoulder. Finally, he snatches the bills out of my hand and drops the necklace into my palm.

I turn to Lance and the others. “Let’s get out of here,” I say.

“Fuck that, this asshole needs to apologize,” Lance says, still zoned in on Tad’s dumb, smirky face.

“Don’t, don’t, please,” I say quietly as I stare Lance in the face, my hands on his chest as if that would hold him back. Finally, he locks eyes with me and relents.

“Fine.” Lance turns around and we walk toward the door.

“Wise decision, Lance. I’d hate to put you back in the hospital.”

Lance immediately spins around and lunges at Tad.