She slaps me, hard.
I let her.
Then she grabs her purse, swears, and storms out.The sound of her tires cutting through the snow echoes long after she’s gone.
Week three’s quiet.
Too quiet.
Word around the club is Trina has been running her mouth.Talking to cops.Talking to lawyers.Talking to anyone who’ll listen about the “bartender” from Evervale.
Frost calls me into church.“You handle that woman?”
“Trying.”
“Try harder.She’s bad for business.”
“I know.”
Being benched from riding is like being dead but left walking.Nights stretch long.The guys drink, play pool, talk about the women they been with.I sit, pretending not to care, pretending I ain’t seeing Carol in every damn shadow.
Sometimes I drive the truck into town anyway, park down the block from Sno-Globes, just to see the lights.Never go inside.Just watch through the windshield like a coward.The fake holiday keeps rolling on without me.
Evervale sparkles.The club don’t.
By the last week, the snow starts melting.
The roads turn slick, gray slush hiding ice underneath.
I just finished changing the oil in Frost’s truck when he walked up.“You’re almost clear,” he said.“Keep your nose clean another few days.”
I wipe my hands.“Yeah.”
“You hear from Trina?”
“No.”
“She’s been sniffin’ around the courthouse.You better pray she doesn’t bite.”
That night, I drink alone in my room.I find an old photo stuffed behind the mirror, me and Trina, back when things were easy.She’s laughing.I ain’t.
I tear it in half and throw both pieces in the trash.
Can’t sleep.Every sound outside makes me think of Carol, her laugh, the way she said my name like a secret.
I want to call her, but I don’t.I promised Prez I’d keep my head down.Promised myself I’d do one thing right.And Prez is right.If Carol can’t wait a month, maybe she’s too young for me.
The next morning, I go for a walk down to the edge of the property where the road cuts toward town.Snow refroze overnight, crisp and clean, no tire tracks yet.I stand there staring at it and think how easy it would be to follow that road, to see her again.
But I turn back.
Frost’s waiting when I get to the gate.“Where you headed?”
“Nowhere.”
He smirks.“Good.Stay that way.”
On day twenty-eight, Trina calls.
