Page 2 of Easy Rider
The big oaf ducks. The chair only clips Cletus but clocks the back of some other dude drinking a beer to the right of him.
Shit.
The dude swivels on a dime and locks stares with me. He’s obviously pissed and trying to figure out who hit him.
The bar seems quiet now even though I know it isn’t. Everything is moving in slow motion, and I feel everyone’s eyes on me.
I give the dude a sheepish grin, raise my hand, and point at Cletus. The man nods at me, apparently not thinking for a second I would have the nerve to throw anything at him. He gives Cletus, who’s also looking at me, a double take. Marguerite takes off. She runs past the pool table, heading out. The dude winds up and punches Cletus, and in less than two seconds all hell breaks loose.
And I’m right in the middle of it. For fuck’s sake,shit.I scramble, ducking, trying to get out of the line of fire. But everyone back here is jumping into the fight. Someone whacks my elbow with a grunt and a stray fist probably meant for someone else. Bodies are being shoved all over the place. I cover my head, get on my hands and knees, and sneak under the nearest table.
All around me are grimy boots, shuffling legs, and shouts. I search for a clearing so I can get the hell out of here in one piece.
Chapter Two
“Hey, Ryder.” A sugaryvoice rolls over my back from behind. “You didn’t tell me you were coming here tonight, baby.” Soft curves sidle up next to me. I don’t need to look up from my glass to know who the body belongs to. Janine and I have one of those fuck-whenever, no-strings arrangements.
“Hi, sweetheart.” I turn, and my eyes can’t help angling down her red blouse. She’s wearing the see-through blue lace bra tonight, one of my favorites. Her nipples are hard, and it looks like her tits are dying to get out. And I know she wears those clingy low-cut blouses and skintight jeans that show the outline of her pussy lips on purpose.
She was wearing that same outfit the first night we became fuck buddies, which is a stupid term because we’re definitely not buddies. Janine and I have nothing in common and zero to talk about. She’d be the first to admit it. But we don’t do much talking when we see each other, so it doesn’t matter.
“Another?” I ask, catching Travis the bartender’s eye. He tucks his rag under the bar and approaches us.
“Can I get you something, darlin’?” I ask Janine, who’s now brushing her tits against my arm.
“Hmm,” she says exaggeratedly, flicking her long dark hair off her shoulder. She pouts her shiny red lips and drapes an arm around me. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” She giggles and trails kisses up my cheek. “I’ve had two already,” she tempts, low and soft.
Travis raises his voice over the crowd. “What’ll it be?”
“Two.” I point to my empty glass. “Thanks.” I watch as he pours a drink and pulls another tumbler off the shelf.
“It’s on my tab,” I let Janine know while I slide off the stool. “Keep that seat warm. I’ll be right back.” I give her a quick kiss before heading to the john.
My boots scuff across the paint-stained, cigarette-burned hardwood as I shadow the knotted pine wall, edging through waves of plaid shirts and hats. It’s payday, and it looks like every ranch hand within a thirty-mile radius is here to let off some steam.
After making my pit stop, I cut across the hall to the back room. Damn. Someone’s gonna have a hell of a cleanup tonight. There’s a full-out brawl going on back here. Chairs flying, bodies crashing into walls—
