Page 58 of The Devil's Scars

This text didn’t say much, just a quick hello, and that Jimmy was taking to get her drunk off strawberry Margaritas. Zoe shook her head – Willa was an even cheaper drunk than she was – and wrote back for her friend to have fun, buy some Tylenol before commencing the rounds, and to give Jimmy a hug for her.

Zoe then quickly called and checked in at home, confirmed that Maria could stay two hours longer than usual. Zoe hung up, thanking the good Lord above for Maria, yet again. The woman was a God-send, and that wasn’t even a small exaggeration. Keira adored her; she adored Keira and was fiercely protective of the baby.

Yes, Zoe missed Keira desperately while she was away, but she was at Blue Dragon by eight most weekday mornings, doing paperwork and getting things ready for the new ten a.m. extended opening hours, and out by four-ish most days, so she had plenty of time to spend with the baby before her eight o’clock bedtime.

She’d settled happily, gratefully, into the routine of the regular, normal, boring life of a not-so-struggling-anymore single Mom. Wolf was very generous with her pay and benefits, Silver was an incredible landlord, and Maria was well within her financial means, and was reliable, honest, and kind. All in all, this deal that Zoe had made with the devil – or at least The Road Devil that she knew and loved named Wolf – was working out just fine.

Now… to that one last unresolved issue, standing between Zoe and her perfect, calm, predictable little life: Scars Innis.

Saint held the door for her, like the filthy gentleman that he was in his heart, and they went over to Satan’s, chatting the whole way. He was an easy person to talk to, she’d found, unpretentious, funny, irreverent sense of humor. She could see why the ladies loved him, and sure enough, despite the fact that it wasn’t even five o’clock yet, they’d barely cleared the door before two women launched themselves across the room at Saint.

“Hiiiii!” the one breathed, obviously a bit tipsy already. She hitched up her skirt, and Zoe knew – unfortunately and without any doubt whatsoever – that she wasn’t wearing any panties. “Boughtcha a beer, handsome.”

“I did too!” the other one cooed, upping the stakes and unbuttoning her fourth button, which meant that her unsupported breasts were now legitimately in danger of falling out of that sort-of-blouse. “Join me, Saint? Make me a sweet sinner tonight?”

Zoe almost rolled her eyes as the woman stumbled over the succession of ‘s’ words, indicating that she was also halfway to smashed. She also thought the whole saint/sinner thing was a bit cheesy, but whatever, and she was one hundred percent sure that Saint used the ‘sweet sinner’ line often. Probably to great effect.

“Aw, thanks, ladies.” Saint gave them a wide grin, clocked both the shaved pussy and the pert, rosy nipples, and Zoe watched the women swoon. “But I’m here with Zee tonight… another time, OK?”

They glared at her, and she fought down the sudden urge to giggle. Wow, they wanted to rip her hair out of her goddamn head, she could totally tell. She didn’t gloat, though, since it wasn’t like she was ‘with’ Saint, and she never would be.

It was a bit funny, but Zoe wanted to reassure them, in a big sisterly kind of way as they did their makeup together in the bathroom, that she was no major threat because she was a boring single Mom. But they’d already huffed off to the bar, where Cole watched their approach with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. Zoe wasn’t sure that it was a gleam of lust or desire, so much as a ‘I’m gonna have sooooo much fun teasing and taunting these drunk and half-naked chicks!’. Cole was nothing but a chain-jerker and trouble-maker, at the end of the day, and he was as unapologetically irreverent as Saint, in some ways.

“Sit, sweet cheeks,” Saint told her, gallantly pulling out a chair. “Now, what’s your poison?”

“Erm…” Zoe looked over at Cole, recalling that night when he’d spiked her drink in a one-man mission. “Maybe… just a beer?”

“You even like beer, Zee?”

“Not much. But if you get me a rum and Coke, can you make sure that Cole actually, you know, puts some Coke in? More than a sip?”

Saint’s blue eyes danced. “You sure now?”

“Yeah. I gotta go home to a baby. I can’t be half-buzzing and tired and off my game.”

“Ah, of course.” He slapped his hand on his forehead in a classic, ‘Duh!’ gesture. “Gotcha. Consider it done.”

“Well, OK, then.” She smiled up at him, suddenly very glad to have accepted his offer. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing, sweet cheeks. Hang out, stay cool. Be right back.”

She nodded, scanned the bar, trying to look like she wasn’t looking for him. But she was, of course… she wasn’t looking for anyone else at all. Not even…

“Well, hey, there, baby girl!”

Wolf’s voice boomed out behind her, and Zoe jumped, spun, almost fell off her chair. She recovered, then almost fell off again when she saw Scars standing there next to Wolf. Tall, broad, hair falling over his forehead in messy dark waves that her fingers itched to smooth back. Scowling at her, those amazing blue eyes missing anything like a warm welcome.

“Wolf,” she managed, suddenly feeling like shit that she hadn’t been by to see her oldest, best friend in days. “God, I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I just –”

“No problemo,” he said, waving his hand at her. “You been busy, Zee, runnin’ that fuckin’ parlor properly for the first time in forever. The guys come in here after work almost every day, and tell everyone how you’re killin’ yourself to get it together and organized, then goin’ home to be Mom, then you’re back again the next day hours before anyone else shows up. You got your hands full, so if you think I’m gonna knock you for not droppin’ by here every day to get loaded, you’re wrong.”

“Well,” she began, feeling embarrassed. Wolf was making her sound like a damn superhero, and all she was, really, was a single mother… just like the approximately other ten million single mothers in the U.S., many of whom were also holding down jobs while mommy-ing. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean, it’s no big stress or strain.”

“C’mon, baby girl,” he chided her gently. “You’re doin’ good over there. You’re doin’ good at home. It ain’t easy, but you got this. Let me say that I’ve noticed you’re kickin’ ass, OK? Me, and everyone else.”

Zoe’s eyes jumped to Scars, wondering if ‘everyone else’ included him. But he was glaring around the room, looking everywhere but at her, and her heart sank. She’d pushed him too far, clearly; what she’d said that night in the kitchen had been too much.

Maybe he wouldn’t even give her a chance to apologize.

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