I pull the broom out and begin sweeping crunched chips from the floor. “Did you and Low Joe have any children?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why would I want a bunch of brats hanging on my hips?”
I decide not to answer that and sweep the chip debris onto a dustpan. Then I get a damp cloth and clean around the bowls.
Betz grabs a plate and fills it, taking off for the back porch.
I let out a long breath. This is tough, but I’ll get used to it. I’m excited to be here, even if Betz is mean.
Merrick spoke to me. He went out of his way to ask how I was.
I’ve gotten to see him more since I agreed to be a mouse than all the other times combined.
Maybe there’s hope for us yet.
CHAPTER 10
MERRICK
As I serve up drinks Sunday night at the Leaky Skull, there’s one thing I know for sure.
I better stay away from the Wild Hair’s new house mouse.
I don’t like the way the club talks about her. I don’t like the way Betz has dressed her.
And I definitely don’t like the way I’m popping off half-cocked in front of the club whenever she’s around them. I don’t control what I say or what I do. I already got into one fight over her. I feel more coming on.
Fuck me. This is a shitshow.
The only Wild Hair at the Leaky Skull tonight is Fancy. He’s chatting up a couple of sorority girls who came to check out the place after seeing a video of it.
The social media stuff is working. I’ve hired a college student to run the accounts. They’re the only ones who know how to channel that crowd. I’m certainly not into it.
Vivi and her friends come in once a week and take new footage, striking poses and making sideways peace signs with their fingers. They giggle like middle school girls when they look at me. When I asked her about it, she said I give off “main character energy,” whatever that means.
They’re not that much younger than Marietta, but she’s got something grounded about her. I mean, she can be crazy, like flashing the bar and taking up pole dancing, but it’s easier to get to the substance. Maybe it’s the grad school. Or maybe those few years make a difference.
I spent that period of my life in Afghanistan, stomping through dust storms. I don’t regret it. But I’m certainly harder-edged because of the military service.
The bar is more or less quiet tonight. There’s that group of sorority girls, a handful of couples, two groups of random men, construction workers by the look of them, and Fancy. I don’t have a band here tonight, so the music is piped in, a punishing pulse of death metal.
Diesel is off with Symphony. He’s a regular college Joe, and they’re studying something. Naked, if I had my guess. You can tell them to get a room, but anything with a floor is a room to them.
I can’t imagine going back to school. I barely survived the twelve years I was forced to do it. But tochooseit? Hell no.
I wonder if Fancy and Two-Shit are following Marietta to campus tomorrow. I got cut loose from the night shift now that she lives with the club, but she has classes until the end of the semester. I guess I could ask Fancy.
The sorority chicks have ditched him. He taps his glass for another pour.
I pull one and slide it across the bar. “No luck?”
“Nah. Talking to me was more of a dare than anything.”
I grunt. I don’t like that the new customers might screw around with the old ones. “I should go look at what that crew is posting about the bar.”
He takes a long drink and slams the pint glass down. “Don’t worry your head about it. The pretty young things dress this place up just fine.”
I grab the shot glasses they left behind and load them into the dishwasher below the bar. “All right.”
