“Anyone else got any new business?” Wolf paused and glanced around the room. “Right. Adjourned.” He slapped his palm on the table and rose, then groaned and grabbed the small of his back. “Shit!”
Cam noticed and cringed. “You oughta lay off working on the new house so much. Just let the crew get it done.”
Wolf straightened and blew out a breath. “It’s not that. It’s swinging Jazz’s nephews around at the park yesterday. Those little shits are heavier than they think.”
“Stuck with babysitting, eh? They’re not that big.”
Wolf grunted. “Huh. You try to swing a five-year-old and a three-year-old around for a couple hours. I guarantee your back will feel it too.”
Cam laughed. “Sabrina can take care of that for you. She’s really good.”
“Who the hell is Sabrina?” Melter asked as he pulled out the joint he’d rolled earlier. He put one end in his mouth and started to light it.
“Scrap’s daughter.” Wolf frowned. “Take that shit outside.”
Scrap came awake at Wolf’s words, and his mouth twisted in irritation.
Shit,Cam mentally cursed.It wasn’t his business what the deal was between Sabrina and Scrap, but he thought she had the right to know if he was her real father.
Melter’s eyes glowed with anger and confusion. He shrugged, lifting his hands in the air. “What the fuck? No one’s had a problem with it before.”
“Well, there’s a problem now. This is a legit business, and we need to keep it that way. I don’t care if you want to get stoned, but you don’t do that here. Got it?”
“Gawddammit, I don’t have a fuckin’ daughter!” Scrap bellowed, punctuated by a fist to the surface of the table. The pieces on the ever-present chess board fell over.
Cam wanted to yell back at the stubborn man, but he kept his tone low and, he hoped, reasonable. “It only takes a minute to find out for sure. Just take the damn DNA test and be done with it.”
“I ain’t takin’ no fuckin’ test! Whoever the fuck she is, she ain’t mine!”
At one time, the garbled growl from the most senior member of the club would have shut everyone up. Not so much anymore.
Cam rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Scrap. I hope you don’t regret those words, ’cause this thing is gonna eat at you until you give in and do that cheek swab.”
Wolf scratched his bearded chin with two fingers. “I don’t get why you’re being so damn pigheaded about it, unless you think there might be a chance sheisyour daughter.”
Scrap’s face turned beet red in anger, and he spluttered a few times before he found his words. “Yinz can piss up a fuckin’ rope, ya gawddamn jagoffs! I’ve said already I don’t have a fuckin’ daughter!”
As Scrap’s roar reverberated through the building, the other members of the Iron City Knights watched silently as the old man fell to the floor in a boneless heap.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Sabrina pulledthe bottom sheet from the massage table with an exaggerated swoosh. Only a few days into joining this group, and she had a growing roster of clients coming to see her. As her reputation for medical massage rose, her bank account would too. Her living expenses were minimal, and she could bank the majority of her pay and tips. The commute wasn’t bad either, as Cicely allowed her to park her rig in the scrappy lot behind the storefront. All she had to do was unlock the back door of the spa to get to the bathroom and mudroom, which was equipped with a shower—all the amenities she really needed for now. The weather was getting colder, and even though she could still ride her bike, soon she would have to park it in the trailer and take the public transit system to wherever she needed to go besides work.
She clicked on the table warmer and stepped out to the front to wait for her next client. He was a new one, another older steel worker complaining of back, shoulder, and arm pain. Not uncommon for someone who makes a living working with their hands and body.
“Have fun with this one,” Stephan remarked with a snarky smile. “He’s real special.”
Stephan’s clients came to see him for relaxing Swedish massages, body wraps, facials, and gossip. People who needed targeted deep tissue came to Sabrina’s table. Not the same style or clientele, and yet the tiny man resented her presence all the same. Still, it didn’t help her to aggravate a senior employee. She could get her digs back in other ways.
“Thanks for the tip, Steph,” she said with an overly sweet smile. She knew the man hated having his name shortened and preferred to be called Stephan. Oh well!
His upper lip curled, and he gave her “the look” before turning to sashay away. All he needed was a finger snap to complete the act. Sabrina suppressed her amusement but stuck out her tongue at his receding back.
Her phone dinged with a new text. She slipped the device from her back pocket, intent on muting it for the upcoming session, but the sender caught her eye. Dread bloomed in her stomach, and her heartbeat increased. She debated ignoring the message until after work, but experience had taught her that he would just keep texting over and over again until she responded. Her client hadn’t arrived yet, so she had some time.
Sabrina inhaled as deeply as she could through her nose and slowly blew out through pursed lips. She repeated the act twice, opening her diaphragm and keeping each cycle even. The relaxed breathing exercise helped, and she tapped open the message.
