Page 72 of Plum

They lived way out on the flats. If I had a car, I could get work in town. I could move out. Get a place of my own. I wanted that car so fucking bad. The son totaled it on prom night. Creech was the one who pulled me off the dad that next night before I had the chance to do real damage. I couldn’t stay there no more, so he gave me a ride to the Steel Bones clubhouse and told me to go talk to a guy named Heavy.

I think I can count on one hand the number of men who ever did anything for me without expecting something in return. Creech Nowicki is one of them, and the rest are all members of the Steel Bones MC.

I would have said Adam Wade last week, but I had my head up my ass. That man expected everything, and what did he give me? In the end? A lesson I shouldn’t have had to fucking learn.

“So, when are you gonna let me give you a tattoo, Jo-Beth?” Creech tugs at the neckline of my tank top, baring a shoulder. “We could put one of them snakes here. It’d look fuckin’ insane.”

I swat his hand. “Maybe when I have the money.”

Creech gives me the once-over, flashing his gold tooth. “I’d do it in trade.”

I shake my head as a bitter taste fills my mouth. This is why Adam bailed, isn’t it? We never talked about what I do. What I’ve done. He said it didn’t matter. I knew better, but it was a sweet lie, you know?

For a man like Creech or most of the brothers, I’d have believed it didn’t matter. They have a simple view of women. If she don’t put out, they don’t have much time for her. Adam isn’t like the brothers, though.

He’s not like anyone. I thought he was like me, a little. Doing what he has to do. Making a space that’s only his. Finding peace where he can.

The hurt pulses, knocks against my ribs, burning. I make myself stand up. I ain’t letting this drag me under. I fucking refuse.

“Get you a beer?” I ask.

“All right, Jo-Beth. Thanks.” Creech has already turned to a prospect, shoving his thigh in his face.

I pad over to the bar. Crista’s working, but she’s busy down the other end with Boots, so I belly up to wait. I’m playing with my phone when the smell of expensive hair product and a whiff of brimstone fills my nose. The stool next to me creaks.

Oh, just what I fucking need. Harper Ruth.

I wait for her to spit it out, but I see the game’s afoot. She wants me to ask. I sigh.

“Whatcha doin’, Harper?”

“Getting in your business,” she singsongs, sipping from a martini glass. In this massive converted garage that still smells faintly of grease—and strongly of beer and cigarettes—Harper Ruth sticks out like a sore thumb. She’s wearing a black tailored suit, pearls, and the kind of dangly watch that clinks and sounds like money.

“Now, there’s no need for that.” I always keep my distance from Heavy’s sister. If it wasn’t enough that she’s a lawyer, she also makes sport of fucking with sweetbutts and generally causing misery. She’s trouble I don’t need.

“Well, don’t you know we have something in common,” she purrs. “Or should I saysomeone?”

I guess I’m slow because when it clicks, I want to slap myself. Harper’s dating Des Wade. He has to be a relation of Adam’s. It’s a small world in these parts.

“Your boyfriend related to the guy I was banging?” With a woman like Harper, you got to be direct. Your best shot of minimizing the drama is keeping it as brief as you can.

“Des and Adam are cousins. Des’ mother is Adam’s stepfather’s sister.”

“Fascinating.” I wave at Crista, but her head’s turned. I don’t think she sees.

“Wasbanging? Don’t tell me you lost the goose that laid the golden egg so soon?” Harper drums her long, red nails on the bar. “Seriously, though. It beggars belief that you’d land that man in the first place. How did you do it?”

I shrug. “Blew his brother.”

Harper laughs, and it’s so rusty it might be real. “Eric Wade! Shut the fuck up!” She shoves my shoulder.

“There was a disagreement. I got clocked. Nickel ended up beating the shit out of Eric, Adam tapped in, Cue and Forty had to break it up. A real fuckin’ meet cute.”

Harper rounds her perfectly-applied smokey eyes. “Why you little agent of chaos. How’d you lose him?”

If it feels like a knife to the chest, I don’t let on. “Maybe I didn’t. Maybe he’s really busy. But probably he’s come to his senses.”

“Yeah, yeah. The Wades would shit themselves if their adopted golden boy went off the rails and took up with a whore. No offense.”

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