Opening the presenter, I flipped through the receipts. Roxy had written her tip amounts, and she’d done pretty well considering it was the slow season. There were only two receipts she hadn’t written on—ours and, by the table number, the family behind us. Shitty, but it didn’t surprise me. There were pen marks bleeding through the receipt paper, so I flipped it over, needing to know what it said. The fucking asshole had written on the back: ‘If you want your tip, call.“ There was a phone number. He’d be lucky if he was still alive by the end of the night. This was a slight to the club, and that shit never stood.
Taking my phone out, I snapped a picture, smirking at the idea that was forming.
“Hey,” I whispered to Roxy’s back, not bothering to check to see if she was faking. I didn’t fucking care either way. “You’re racking up favors, and I always collect. Starting with the beer.”
I left, waiting until I turned the corner, away from the motel, before I pulled out my phone.
“Yo,” Huckleberry answered on the first ring.
“You getting any?” I asked, needing to know if he was actually going to be helpful. Otherwise, I’d have to head back to the clubhouse before executing my plan.
“Not yet, but there’s a few extra girls here, if you want one.”
I laughed. “Pick one for yourself, and she can thank me later. I need you to help me deal with a certain problem from this afternoon.”
“Fucker touched her? I thought that was a joke.” Huck was a lot. He could flip through his seven personalities quicker than I could lace up my boots, but there was one thing he didn’t stand for. No one fucked with the women in his life, and while Roxy wasn’t his, she was a part of the saloon. Close enough.
“Saw the handprint.” I let that settle in, knowing it would rile him up.
“What do you want to do?”
“He left Roxy his phone number, so I’m hoping you can use the girl to set something up. People will miss him, but you know he’s done this before.” This would be the last time he’d touched without permission.
“Yeah, send me the number, and I’ll take care of it.”
The phone went dead in my hand, but I’d reached my bike, parked in the saloon’s back lot. Sitting, I sent him the picture I’d taken and waited. Huck didn’t disappoint me, calling me back in under ten minutes.
“I had my chick call the fucker, and he picked up on the first ring. Told her he couldn’t really talk, so I had her give him the address for the motel in Bisbee. Room 100 hasn’t seen action in a while.”
“When we’re done, fuck her real good. She earned it.” I laughed, knowing exactly where he’d sent the fucker. We had a permanent rental for the room with the owner under a false name for situations like this. “I’ll meet you over there.”
I was still laughing as I started my bike, pulling out onto the road.
***
This was the epitome of a shitty fucking motel room. Roxy’s room was a palace compared to this dump. At least she had actual furniture, even if it was cheap. Everything in this room except the bed was cardboard, and I knew of at least one time when a brother had fallen through the dresser, destroying it.
It didn’t fucking matter that the bed had sheets but no bedspread. I wasn’t sure what fluids were seeping into the mattress, and I wasn’t taking the risk. I’d like to see my fiftieth birthday. However, the room was perfect for what we used it for,and if we spilled blood tonight, all it would take was one phone call to the cleaning crew. I didn’t mind blood. I just didn’t bleach.
I was standing in the corner of the room when Huck signaled our visitor was here. There was a light rap on the door. I took one more step back into the shadows, and Huck used the door to hide behind as he opened it. The fucker walked in like he was planning on getting his and getting the fuck out.
“It’s getting late, and I didn’t think you would call…”
I didn’t give a fuck how late it was at all. If he cared about his family, he would never have touched Roxy.
Huck let the door slide shut, knocking the man to the ground. “She didn’t call you, fucker.”
“What the fuck?” The man rolled onto his back, looking up at Huck. He wasn’t innocent, and like I told Huck, I had a gut feeling this wasn’t the first time the man on the ground had done this. It was just the first time he’d ever gotten caught. “Man, I don’t want any trouble. I thought you were the waitress.”
“That’s where you fucked up.” I stepped forward, making my presence known.
“Look,” he said, holding his hands up to placate us. “My wife’s a bitch. She’s making me take this historical vacation for the kids, when all I wanted to do was go to Vegas.”
“So, you thought you could touch without permission? It’d get her all hot, and she’d let you wet your dick? For what? Twenty bucks?” I let my temper flare, still deciding if this man was going to die tonight. If we killed him, no one would find him buried underneath a cactus in the desert. Hell, his wife would probably thank us if she knew.
“It was a lapse in judgement. I promise never to do it again.” The man tried to stand, but Huck put a boot to his chest.
“You’ll never do it again.” Huck raised his boot, kicking him between the legs. It was so swift, the man sprang up, trying to curl into a ball to relieve the pain. Huck planted one of his boots on the man’s chest again, pinning him to the ground. “How far do you want to go?” he asked me.
