"Whiskey?" Reed offers. Hollingsworth boys are natural ass kissers.
"I'm good."
"The man obviously wants tequila," Zebulon drawls in a voice so country that he sounds stupid. I don't want tequila. It's not a tequila kind of day.
I shake my head as Zebulon starts snapping his fingers aggressively at Oske. I can't blame him for acting like he was raised in a barn.
"Beer. Warm," I grunt, but I know I won't have to wait long for my order and I also won't have to make it.
Oske already knows what's up. Ignoring Zebulon's snapping, she approaches the three of us on the other side of the bar with a frothing, warm beer.
"It's an IPA made on the Navajo reservation," she says. "Better than that napkin-flavored Voodoo Ranger you like so much."
"It's good shit," I tell her, taking the mug of beer off the counter and tilting it gratefully in her direction.
Beer tastes better when you use it to chase liquor and to refresh after a long ride.
"It tastes like loneliness and divorce. If you could get laid, you wouldn't be drinking Voodoo Ranger."
Zebulon's face turns red because he's trying so hard not to laugh. Maybe he's not as good of an ass kisser as the Hollingsworth kid but... get yourself a little money and everyone tries to kiss your ass.
"I'll pay you $100 for a good fuck," I growl at Oske. "Is that what you want?"
"Asshole," Oske says. "$100? You know how easy it is for me to get $100? I don't have to go anywhere near your minnow dick."
She storms away before I can get her back for that zinger. I love our pleasant conversations. Zebulon and Reed compose themselves and turn to face me attentively.
"Want to join our dice game?" Zeb asks. "I'm winning."
"Liar," Reed says.
I consider it. I could mop the floor with those two and get some extra money to make Oske reconsider without dipping into my own funds. I'm not attracted to her but... a mouth is a mouth after a while.
Just as I'm about to agree, I notice a flash of pink that catches my attention. I look over my left shoulder to where Gideon sits at a card table with Owen and Vickie Shaw, Tamiya standing behind him rubbing his shoulders and...
The flash of pink.
"Who's that?" I ask Zebulon. It's Blackwood business, so I assume he knows.
"Tamiya."
"Not her..." I mutter, struggling not to throttle him for being slow. "The woman with the pink braids."
...and the dump truck ass.
"Oh," Zebulon says. "She's a crazy ass bitch. Damara Simmons."
"Who?"
"Tamiya's sister. The one Gideon killed but then she came back to life."
"Oh..."
I grab my half-drank beer off the table and leave the dice game to greet that woman with the pink braids.
How crazy could she really be? If she's single. And I'm single...
I have some ideas for how we could spend the night.
