Page 6 of Savage Spades

Mr. Jones readjusted his tie. “I know last semester was really hard for you, and the college has tons of resources if you need help…but because of your grades, you have been put on academic probation.”

“What?!” When had this happened? Why didn’t anyone tell her?

“You should have gotten a letter sent to your home over the summer.”

There was a massive pile of mail sitting on her coffee table at home that she’d barely glanced at.

“What does this mean?”

“It’s temporary. If you can get your GPA up this semester, you’ll be taken off probation. If not, you could be dismissed.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Great.”

This was precisely what she needed: more pressure. In addition to worrying about the bar losing money, she had to worry about possibly getting kicked out of school.

“I know this can be stressful, but we have a lot of tutors--”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” she said before getting out of the chair and leaving the building. She barely had time to go to school, let alone take advantage of the college’s tutoring services. She got into her truck and leaned her head against the hot steering wheel. Life just kept getting better.

*****

The minute the bar came into view, her mouth dropped open. The parking lot was filled with black motorcycles. Usually, she’d be happy for a busy night filled with paying customers, but with the day she had, she’d been looking forward to a quiet night. Since there wasn’t anywhere to park in the small lot, she found a spot in front of Ms. Rogers’ bookstore. Local, small businesses surrounded the street her bar was on. The strip was usually deserted by 6 p.m. The only places that stayed open late was her bar and Helen’s Diner.

The sound of rock music cut through the warm air and filled the cab of her truck. That was unusual. Their regulars liked to watch the game, and most of them could care less about the restored jukebox. She turned off the truck, not bothering to lock the doors before walking across the street. She’d chosen to wear cut-off shorts because it was so hot, but she regretted it now as her thighs rubbed together. The music was so loud she couldn’t hear the door creak as she opened it.

She didn’t see Ernie sitting on his usual barstool; in his place was a large man the size of a football player. Leather material spread across the man’s broad back with the words ‘Savage Spades’ written in bright orange letters above a picture of a spades card. Looking around the room, she realized everyone in her bar had the same, sleeveless leather jacket on. Most of the men had long beards. Some looked old enough to be her grandfather, while others looked like they were barely out of high school. An older man with a graying beard laughed and sloshed beer onto the table as he slammed the mug down. Some of the men were nursing their drinks while they casually talked. The loud music wasn’t doing much to help her headache that had started not long after leaving Mr. Jone’s office.

Taking a deep breath, she maneuvered around the full tables to the bar where Jen was laying out glasses. Some of her red hair stuck to her face with sweat.

“What’s going on?” Cam asked.

Jen looked up, as if realizing for the first time that Cam had walked through the door.

“I don’t know. They came in a couple of hours ago, all on their motorcycles. Most of the regulars left, but they’re ordering a lot and tipping, so I’m happy.”

Jen grabbed the ice scoop out of the bucket and filled the glasses before adding a shot of whiskey to each one.

“Can I get another beer?” a guy asked from the end of the bar. His beard was so long it touched his t-shirt. His eyes were slightly glazed over from the alcohol.

“I’ll grab these,” Cam told Jen as she grabbed the glasses of whiskey, balancing two of them in one hand.

“It’s the three men in the corner booth,” Jen said.

Cam focused on the glasses, making sure not to tip them over as she walked across the floor. She looked up once she was close to the booth; two of the men were inside the rounded booth while the other had pulled up one of the wooden chairs. They were deep in conversation when she walked up.

“Okay, I got three--”

The man in the chair scooted back, slamming into her stomach. The glasses in her hand smashed into her chest before falling on the ground and shattering. She froze in shock as the cold liquor seeped through her white top, making her bra visible to everyone.

“Ah, shit--”

“Save it,” she said through clenched teeth.

She finally looked up at the man responsible for her current situation. Her breath caught in her throat as she was met with baby-blue eyes. They reminded her of the sky on a clear day. His muscular arms were covered in tattoos: a snake, a skull, a few tribal designs, and some other things she couldn’t make out. If it was under different circumstances, she might consider him attractive. She looked back up at his face. His eyes were wide and focused on her. They weren’t glazed over or red as she expected from a man that’d been drinking for the last couple hours.

Her body was on fire, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to compose herself. When she opened them again, all three men were staring at her like she’d lost her mind. Turning on her heels, she walked out of the bar, grabbing a handful of napkins on the way.

The hot air hit her in the face. She stepped away from the door before leaning against the brick wall next to it. The noise quieted as the door shut. She rubbed the napkins against her shirt, trying her best to dry the stain. Her mind replayed what just happened. She was being dramatic by storming out like that. She could have just accepted the man’s apology, gotten a new shirt, and cleaned up, but she had too much on her mind to act rationally.

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