Page 39 of Hell's Kitten

I know my business is down, and I don’t have a mob actively trying to dissuade people from going inside.

Yet.

“Have you called Sheriff Chancey?” I ask.

Donna shrugs as we walk together back toward the front door. “It’s free speech and all that, isn’t it? If these clowns can terrorize Planned Parenthood without repercussions, there sure as shit isn’t a good argument to get them off my property.Technically, if they stay on the public sidewalk, they aren’t doing anything wrong.” She gives me a sly look. “I might have thought about turning the water hose on them once or twice.”

Honestly, that sounds pretty tempting to me.

“Go back to where you came from!” one pinched-looking man yells at me. “Paddle Creek doesn’t want your kind here!”

Even though he’s half my size and I’m a full-grown adult now, his words still sting. Some people are so consumed by hate they don’t stop to think about what they’re actually demanding. Would he still be so righteous if he saw a teenage boy shivering and hungry on the streets? Or if he knew the all-consuming terror of knowing there isn’t one single person on earth who gives a damn whether you live or die?

“Excuse me, sir,” Donna says cheerfully as we push our way through the crowd. None of them actually touch us, but they get right up in our faces.

“Down with immorality!” another woman cries, shaking her fist. She’s holding a sign that reads ‘Protect our children!’ and I do my best not to snarl. Protect them from what?

“You’d know all about immorality, wouldn’t you, Sharron?” Donna quips with a smirk. “Your husband aware you stepped out on him with your gym instructor?”

The woman’s face turns purple, and she shuts up long enough for me to follow Donna inside, where there is a distinct lack of drugs or hookers. I breathe a sigh of relief as the familiar smell of worn leather greets us, AC/DC playing on the sound system.

The place is practically empty, though. I wince and glance over at Donna, who throws her hands up and stomps over to the bar. “I know, I know. Don’t start,” she gripes. “We’ll be okay. If we can just make it through this election, hopefully, things will calm down. After Christmas, everyone will have forgotten all about it.”

I chew my lip, not so sure. If Durham gets re-elected, is he really going to leave us alone? Or is he going to follow through on his election promises and shut all our businesses down?

Legally, he hasn’t got a leg to stand on. It’s more the word-of-mouth slander that’s killing us slowly. My profits have probably halved in the past week.

Leah’s noticed, and I’m sure some of my other staff probably have too. But I’m trying to shield Jessie from it all as best I can.

My heart aches just thinking about him. I still can’t believe this is really happening between us. But I worry I’m being selfish in wanting him as much as I do. Surely, he deserves someone better than me with all my problems? He keeps asking me what’s wrong but I’m bottling it up. He doesn’t need to know that the café and my biker community are both in trouble. He should be focusing on school and the cheer squad, not getting dragged down by my issues.

Part of me knows, however, that me not talking to himisthe problem. In fact, it’s exactly what I fucked up with before when Brent and I were together.

I order a Guinness from Donna. As desperate as I am to get home to Jessie, I need a little time to think. It’s enough to be running my own business without fretting about all this crap on top of it. I want to do something for my community, though. We can’t let those bastards outside win. We haven’t done anything wrong.

If they’re trying to intimidate people from coming inside, then we need people who aren’t easily intimidated.

“Drag queen,” I mumble.

I don’t blame Donna as she raises her eyebrows at me. “A new hobby you’re thinking of trying?” she asks with a teasing grin.

I huff but also give her a half smile to let her know I’m aware that she’s pulling my leg. “There’s that drag queen from Creams.Kimmi Sugar. Ask her to host a charity bingo night or something here. We’ll invite local chapters to come.”

Donna tilts her head. “Out-of-towners as reinforcements,” she says, nodding in approval. “That could work. That could work for everyone. We could encourage them to get their bikes serviced at Horowitz’s while they’re here.”

I hum in agreement. Not that the idea of interacting with a whole load of people fills me with joy. But it’s amazing what lengths I’ll go to when I feel like my family is in danger.

I take another sip of my drink then leave the rest on the counter. “You’ll put the call out?” I ask, rising to head out. As much as I want to give Donna my support, I have a kitten at home that I need to get back to, not to mention actual cats that might need my attention if Jessie hasn’t had the chance today. I promised him I wouldn’t be late once I’d checked up on the situation here, and I want him to know he can trust me to keep my word.

We’ve agreed to take it all slow, partly because I’m so afraid that I wanteverythingwith Jessie. We already live together, though, so I don’t want to pressure him too soon into anything he’s not ready for. Be that moving his things from his room to mine, escalating our intimacy, or even just labeling what’s going on. He calls me Daddy, and I fucking love that. But he might not want to think of me yet as his boyfriend or partner or whatever. Being his Daddy is certainly enough for me. I don’t need anything else. So until he pushes it, I don’t see the need to rush him.

Try as I might, I can’t stop myself from wanting to be near him all the damn time. I’m going to piss him off with my clinginess, I’m sure. But it’s as if my body is craving his whenever he’s not around. Those people out there think there’s a drug problem going on in here? They might be right, just not in the way they expect.

I am fully addicted to Jessie Garras, and I have no idea how to quit.

When I head out, Donna is already going through her phone, presumably reaching out to our wider community for reinforcements. As soon as I walk through the door, the protesters on her doorstep reactivate, yelling at me that I’m what’s wrong with this country and how I should be ashamed of myself.

I’d laugh if I weren’t so afraid of the damage they could cause.

---