Page 19 of Plum

Disposable.

I come from a long line of disposable women. For every man Ma took for a ride, two took a bite out of her. By the time she died from the Hep C, a man was cashing her disability checks and fucking another woman in her bed—in the apartment she’d paid the rent on—while I sat by her side in hospice, resting my feet on an overstuffed duffle ‘cause I knew if I left my shit in my room, it wouldn’t be there when I came back.

When she died, they put me in foster care, and then that went south. I ran away and dropped out. My case worker tried to set up a new situation, but when I turned her down, she didn’t do much.

On my eighteenth birthday, she showed up at the Steel Bones clubhouse, gave me a folder of papers and had me sign on the dotted line. I didn’t see her again. I think she retired.

I know what men see when they watch me shake my tits. Easy pickings. A girl nobody would miss. It makes them think dark thoughts, and that gets them hard.

But that girl? That was my Ma. That ain’t me. I’m not stupid.

I stand and head for the tub where I keep my gardening shit. The sky’s blue, and it’s not too hot, not too cold. I’m gonna weed my flower bed, and then I’m gonna lay in the yard and stare at the clouds, see if I can spot a dusky hawk or a golden eagle.

Later, I’m gonna text Cue, see which brother he can send with me on this “date” with Adam Wade. I’ll ask for Wall. That gargantuan motherfucker could scare even the craziest rich perv. I don’t know what this dude wants, but I’ll be damned if he gets more than he pays for.

See, my Ma gave it away for free. She’d rip off whole pieces of herself for a few compliments and empty promises. I don’t value myself so cheap, and I don’t mind hard work.

I spent five years scrubbing biker jizz out of leather couches and never saying no, and now shit happens on my terms. If Adam Wade wants a cheap whore that no one’ll miss, he picked the wrong bitch. This one’s property of the Steel Bones MC, and with them, taking care of their shit is a matter of pride.

That decided, I put it out of my mind. I grab my gloves and a rubber kneeler from the utility tub. My bluebells and phlox don’t really need that much weeding, but I like fussing with the flower bed, the earthy smell and the stretch in my back.

I’m trying to get the ruby-throated hummingbirds to come by this year. So far this spring, it’s been nothing but squirrels all up in the birdseed. It’s early days, though. I get a pay day, there’s a colored glass feeder I’ve got my eye on, shaped like a pear, lime green with bright orange swirls. The reviews say it’s guaranteed to attract hummingbirds.

I like being able to buy a sure thing.

I guess that’s one thing Adam Wade and I have in common.

CHAPTER 3

ADAM

Igot another email while I was dressing for dinner. The subject line readyour father ryan Adam morrison. All lowercase except theA. My finger hovers over the phone for a long minute, and then I delete it like the others.

If these are really from Ryan Adam Morrison, he’s getting more persistent. He’s sent a message almost every day this week. I’ll admit; the first few had me rattled. Could explain why I ended up getting into a fight with a biker and inviting a stripper to dinner.

I’ve had some time to think, and I’m not sure what screw got loose in my head.

I guess it makes a kind of sense. Even at thirty years old, in our weak moments, don’t we all still have a kid’s heart? It’s late at night, you’ve had a few drinks, you’re at the end of a grueling negotiation. We want to believe it’s not all shit. The father who bailed had a good reason. The hooker has a heart of gold.

In the cold light of day, you see more clearly. If the man emailing me is really my long-lost father, he wants something. Plum is like every woman who sells her ass to make rent. At the end of the day, my mom was no different, if she was a bit more particular about her clientele.

I crack my neck and lean back against the brick face of Altimeter, the only restaurant in Pyle with two Michelin stars. I should have canceled. This isn’t me.

I am a man of my word, though. I stopped at the bank. I have twelve hundred dollars cash in my breast pocket and a reservation for two.

I texted Plum the time and address. She sent me her Venmo.

I think I prefer cash for a transaction like this, though. Standing here in my town, two blocks from the mid-century office building that bears my name, my temporary insanity is crystal clear. Either I’m leading on a whore, or I’ve become a john. Neither is consistent with the man Thomas Gracy Wade raised me to be.

I suppose I could have just sent the money.Plumwould probably be fine with foregoing the meal, especially if I tipped. She still might not show. I drum my fingers against the brick. I don’t like that thought.

I was in a strange mood that night I went back to The White Van, sleep deprived from the ArrowXchange negotiations on top of my usual insomnia, thrown by the emails purporting to be from Ryan Morrison. I’d been drinking a lot.

I’ve had a few days now. Juice cleanse. I’m back at the gym. With melatonin and a sleep aid, I’m getting about four hours of rest a night. Plum is getting blurrier in my mind, and I’ve grown curious.

There’s no way she’s as pretty as I thought she was. I asked Eric, and he said he couldn’t tell me anything except she had purple hair, wonky tits, and she sucked like a vacuum cleaner. He asked why I wanted to know. I said I like to whack it to thoughts of him getting head, and I needed to get the details right for my spank bank.

He laughed, and we got back to business.

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