“But what if you have doctor’s appointments or are sick?”
Sandy pats my shoulder gently. “We schedule our appointments after lunch when it dies down, and we haven’t gotten sick in years. Knock on wood. We’ll figure it out.”
“So… you basically run this place, then?”
I kind of worry I won’t be needed. I need to be needed. Somewhere other than at home. One of the only exciting aspects of moving to a small town in Nevada was starting fresh. Finding my place. A home.
“We handle the day-to-day operations, and we can show you those, too. We don’t handle the bills or payroll, though.”
I hadn’t even thought about payroll. So many things to get squared away. “I should probably take a look at things to get familiar, huh?”
The laugh comes out strong, but I’m shaking inside. Why did I think I could run a business? Sure, I’ve managed places before.Made schedules, done inventory, and I’ve dabbled with payroll. But I’ve never been the name signing the checks before. Or had to pay the bills.
This is going to be interesting as I realize how much I don’t actually know. And now I’m a little terrified.
“Oh, and be careful around the motorcycle clubs in town,” Merv says. “Especially the Venom. The Daredevils aren’t so bad, but they’re still bikers.”
“The who?”
Sandy smiles, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have dentures like Merv. “The motorcycle clubs. We have the Black Venom and the Hellfire Daredevils. They hate each other, but we’re one of the places that are neutral turf. They don’t typically cause problems here.”
Great. Motorcycle clubs. Just dandy.
What the hell have I gotten Bernie and me into here?
Chapter Four
Zeppelin
Tommy walks into his house, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees me sitting on the counter as he turns on the lights. I don’t let the sinister smile leave my face as his hand slams against his chest as a squeal escapes him.
A squeal? Fucking pussy.
I’ve been through this place and found everything I need to know. Uncovered the reason our best artist turned on us. And as much as I like the guy, no one disrespects the Daredevils.
“Zep? Wh-what are you doin’ here, man?”
Tommy’s face is riddled with scabs, and I just shake my head. How the fuck can anyone voluntarily do this to themselves? Especially when they know the risks that come with getting product from the fucking Venom?
“I took a look around while making myself at home. I hope that’s okay.”
His eyes widen as he sees the snake bite kits and ink bottles from every goddamned nook and cranny hidden around his house. The ones that don’t hold actual snake bite remedies or tattoo ink. The fifty or so items on the counter come filled withVenom Dust. The specialty drug made and distributed by the Black Venom.
“Look, I can explain—”
“That you’re a methed-out druggie looking to get himself dead?” I ask, jumping off the counter.
Tommy turns to run away, but I grab his arm and toss him to the ground. He’s high as a kite, which makes this far easier than it should be. And much less satisfying.
“Look, they got me hooked, okay? I owe them a lot of money, and the only way they’ll let me pay off my debts is working for them. I didn’t have a choice!”
“You didn’t have a choice? How the fuck did they get you hooked? They break in and inject you while you slept?”
Actually, that sounds exactly like something the Venom would do. They’ll do whatever they can to get new customers. Especially one that’s tied to us.
He swallows with his hands up in a pathetic attempt to protect himself. “You know their girl, Molly?”
“Yeah. So?”
