“Vicki will bring me something shortly.”
I watch her madly choosing between bottles. “I think she’s got a thing for you.”
“She has her reasons.” He leans back in his chair, kicking out a boot. “I understand Marietta was upset when Two-Shit and Fancy showed up on campus.”
“They weren’t very discreet.”
Iron Jack lets out a long, annoyed breath. “I’ve had a word with them about that.”
“I don’t think she knew I was outside her apartment this morning.”
“Good. I could use some subtlety in the club.”
Vicki brings a well-filled glass of bourbon. “I think you’ll take to this one,” she says. “Smoky, like you like it.”
“Thanks, Vic.” He turns away from her.
She hesitates for a moment but realizes she’s dismissed and hurries away.
Iron Jack admires the golden liquor. “I appreciate that you didn’t tip the girl off.”
I don’t say it, but it wasn’t easy. Marietta is a dreamer. She often sat on a bench by her bedroom window, staring out at the night. She didn’t watch television or doom scroll on her phone.
Sometimes she’d read a book, but it seemed like every few pages, she would sigh and stare wistfully out at the sky, like a Disney princess.
I had to stay tucked out of sight. She knows my truck, and the bike would have been obvious, so I borrowed Two-Shit’s beat-up Toyota Corolla.
Nobody tried to approach, so it was an easy gig as far as security. But watching her sit at her window, haloed in light with her hair piled on top of her head, was melancholic. I kept wanting to fix things. Make her smile.
Iron Jack’s gruff voice startles me. “Have you arranged a meeting with the cherry?”
I shake off the image of her in the window. “Yeah, she called me when she spotted the club patrol. She’s coming here tomorrow morning.”
Iron Jack takes a sip of the bourbon. Vicki stands not too far behind him, watching his every move.
I lift my eyebrows at her, and she takes off.
“What does the girl know?” he asks.
“Just what she could see, that we’re watching out for her like we will if she takes us on.”
“Fancy told Diesel’s girl that we were protecting her cherry. Did she mention that?”
Oh, I bet she didn’t like that. “It didn’t come up.”
“Maybe she didn’t pass that information on.”
“Should I keep that on the down low? She’ll have a lot of questions.” She already asked several on the phone.
Iron Jack swirls the glass, staring into the depths of the bourbon. “I’ll leave that up to you. You know her better than we do.”
Do I? “I reckon.”
“You think you’ll claim her for yourself?” Iron Jack asks. “A prospect can have an ol’ lady. You just can’t step ahead of a club member with a bunny.”
That’s a line of thought I’m not willing to entertain in the least. Marietta is something I can’t figure out, between the sad girl with her book and the wildling flashing the bar. “I’m not looking for something long term.”
“I figured. You’d have bent that girl over backward by now if you had hit it off. I don’t figure she’s in it for the party.”
