Page 15 of Redemption

Kelsey

Time seems to stand stillas every pair of eyes inside the place turn in our direction the second we walk inside. “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd blares out of a juke box that’s something straight out of the 70s as a wall of smoke and the stench of stale beer punch me square in the face. From my place next to the door, I take in more of the room. If I thought the outside of this place was questionable, then the inside leaves no room for doubt.

Dust coats the wood-paneled walls that are covered with miscellaneous motorcycle memorabilia. Just behind the bar through an archway is a cluster of pool tables that are all occupied.

Axel interlaces his fingers with mine and pulls me out of my stupor to a small booth that’s tucked away in the far corner of the room. The heel of my tan boots stick to the concrete floor with each step, but I don’t dare slow my pace until I’m seated in the booth between Axel and Zane.

“Hurry. I don’t have all night.” Zane grabs the menus from the napkin holder in the center of the table and passes one to each of us. I wonder if it would kill him to speak in more than short, clipped sentences.

We have roughly a few seconds to decide on what we want before a waitress comes over to take our orders. She writes it all down, takes our menus, and walks off to the kitchen to turn it in.

I rest my hands in my lap as I glance around the bar, ignoring the wall of heat coming from the body next to me. This place is definitely nothing like Gilley’s.

Axel squeezes my upper thigh, bringing my attention to him. “You all right?”

“I’m fine. I just hope we aren’t killed and buried in the back woods tonight.”

Axel tilts his head back and laughs. “Nothing is gonna happen to you. I promise you’re safe with us, Wildcat.”

“Right,” I mumble and play with one of the many cracks in the table. His words do nothing to ease my nerves one bit.

After a few minutes our food arrives and we devour it in record time. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the smell of grits mixed with sweet tea fill the musty air. Nothing comes close to a good ol’ fashioned Southern breakfast. Full, I toss my napkin onto my empty plate and lean back against the ripped vinyl seat.

“Come on, Wildcat. Let’s go play some pool.” His blue eyes meet mine and a flush spreads across my cheeks at thoughts of the last time we played each other.

Judging by the cheshire grin on his face his mind has gone down the same path. He winks and glances in Zane’s direction. “Coming, big brother?”

“Only to watch her kick your ass.” Zane grabs his beer, slides to his feet, and follows behind us.

We walk to the first open table we find, which happens to be all the way in the back of the bar, with eyes on us the entire way there. At least no one has bothered us so far. They’re just curious because we’re outsiders and I don’t really blame them. Small towns are a very tight knit group.

Axel grabs a couple of pool sticks while Zane takes a nearby seat at one of the small round tables between us. Another group of guys that appear to be in their mid-twenties like me are playing at the table behind us. Kicking Axel’s ass with an audience this time is going to be interesting.

He sticks a few coins into the slot and the clanking of balls dropping fills the sir. Axel hands me a cue stick and some chalk. Then he racks the balls on top of the green felt table, keeping one eye on me the entire time.

I chalk up the tip of my cue until it’s coated in a sea of blue when an idea comes to me. “Care to make a wager on this game?”

“How much?” Axel cocks an eyebrow at my words.

“Not money.” I shake my head and force my face to remain blank. “I win you let me go back to California without a fight.”

Axel leans his weight against the table as he works something out behind his eyes. “And if you lose?”

“Choice is yours.” I tilt my head to the side and bat my eyelashes luring him in.

“You sure you want to make that bet?” He rubs his thumb along his bottom lip causing my insides to dance.

Zane runs his fingers through his beard while watching our entire exchange in silence. His eyes meet mine with a hint of humor leaving me wondering for a brief moment if I’ve just screwed myself. Then I think back to the last time I kicked Axel’s ass and my resolve strengthens.

“I am if you are.” I square my shoulders and roll the wooden stick between my fingers, forcing the thrumming of my pulse to remain steady. This is Axel and he can detect bullshit a mile a way. I need to keep my cards close to my chest if I’m going to keep the upper hand with him.

Axel nods and takes the bait. He finishes racking the balls and backs away, holding his hands out for me. “Ladies first.”

I manage to break and knock a couple of solid balls into two different pockets. On my next attempt I scratch and bite my tongue. I will not be a sore loser.

The group of guys behind us are beginning to become rowdy the more they drink, but I focus on the game and kicking Axel’s ass.

Axel makes the next several shots and we continue to play back and forth until it’s just the eight ball left.

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