Page 9 of Venom's Sting

He picks up his whiskey and downs it in one swallow. “You’ve clearly never dated the toxic bitches I have, and it shows.”

I laugh at his backhanded compliment and refill his glass. After the fourth drink he glances up at me. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink. Not even once.”

“Sure you have,” I fib. “I drink off and on all the time, just not when I’m tending bar.” Pointing off to one of the pool tables, I distract him, “It looks like two prospects are about to get in a fight over Brittany, your night off might end up being cancelled if you’ve got to patch up the fuckers.”

Luckily for all of us, Rigs is all over the situation, so we don’t have to go running over to break it up.

Rage slams his empty glass down on the bar and states loudly, “I told you she was fucking toxic, and you didn’t believe me. Now she’s turning brother against brother.”

I refill his glass, going easy on the whiskey. “Yeah, you really called that one, bro.”

Chapter 4

Amy

The tall, handsome, ripped biker has been coming into the coffee shop nearly every morning, literally at the crack of dawn for the past few weeks. I’ve learned that his name is Venom, or Ven as he prefers, and in addition to being drop dead gorgeous, he’s nice, polite, protective, and has a fantastic sense of humor. If he weren’t a biker, I would think of him as relationship material. But since he is, I don’t. Instead, we’re developing a fast friendship.

Because I’ve spent my life worrying about my mother, most of my relationships have fallen by the wayside. That’s why making a new friend is so important to me. I work my hours, look for my mom, and sleep. I thought I’d gotten close with finding my mom’s medications had been sent to my grandfather’s farm, but Sergeant Pike found nothing suspicious. If I hadn’t been there with him, I’d have thought he was just saying that to get me off his back, but it was true. There was no sign of my mom, and the only people there were the farmhands.

My grandfather never apologized for setting his dogs on me, though looking back, maybe I just misread the situation. I’d been so jacked up with what I’d found that I went in like a wrecking ball. That’s probably why he’d sent two of his asshole farmhands to tell me to back off. I didn’t tell Ven I knew who those men were, because if he went after my grandfather then things might end up even worse.

Talking to Ven is the only thing I do that fills my cup, so I’m hesitant to give it up or let things turn romantic in case it spoils what we have.

Our shop opens at five in the morning and he’s always outside waiting for me to unlock the building. Today is no different. He’s sitting there on his motorcycle, the light from the streetlamp brings out the reddish highlights in his long brown hair. The sun isn’t cresting over the horizon just yet and all the stars are still visible in the sky. I’ve always found the dawn hours before the sun rises and the moon sets hauntingly beautiful. Sharing the moment with Ven every morning makes it all the more special.

I open the door and turn the closed sign over to open as we enter. Today, I’ve got the scrapbook I made with everything I could find about my mother’s disappearance. I’ve finally saved up enough to hire a private investigator to help me find her, I’m going to meet with them after work. I drop the scrapbook onto the end of the bar, along with my purse and coat.

Ven always pulls up a stool to the counter and watches me open the shop. We talk as the first pot of coffee brews. I like having company while I open. I don’t feel so alone and vulnerable.

I ask, “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yeah, I did. I slept like a log because I tended bar at the Savage Legion’s clubhouse until around one in the morning.”

“Jesus, you only went to bed four hours ago! How are you even functional this morning?”

He snorts a laugh. “I’m never functional until I get at least two cups of coffee into me.”

I pour him a cup of java and glance over my shoulder, “It’s sounding like a two shots of expresso kind of day.”

He nods, finally perking up. “Yeah, it would be three, but I don’t want to end up going into cardiac arrest.”

I add two shots and hand it over quick as a wink.

He takes a sip and sighs. I can tell by the expression on his face that he likes my brew. I’m happier than I should be about something so insignificant.

He points to my pile of personal stuff on the end of the counter. “I see you brought your photo album. I’d love to see pictures of you growing up.”

I hesitate to tell him that my mother is missing. Ven is the one normal friendship I have that’s not marred by the greatest tragedy of my life. He sees my hesitation and his expression blanks out.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Coming to his feet, he stammers, “I’m sorry if I read our situation wrong. I thought we were getting to be friends. Maybe I’m that asshole customer who intrudes without realizing it. I didn’t mean to make myself a nuisance.”

When he takes a step back, I tear up. “Please don’t go. You haven’t read anything wrong. I want to be your friend badly. In fact, you’re about the only true friend I have.”

He slowly moves back and drops down onto the stool again. “If you don’t want me to see your embarrassing kid pics, that’s okay. I understand.”

I walk over with shaking hands and pull the scrapbook out from under my jacket and thunk it down in front of him.

“It’s not a photo album or a scrapbook of childhood memorabilia. It’s the place I organize everything I can find about my mom’s disappearance.”

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