Page 7 of Love Bank
I’d made it through day one of the prison being open. It was late for a Monday, probably already eight o’clock, but I needed to blow off some steam. I wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise. Being the new guy in town and without a date for the night, I could have just taken myself in hand and rubbed one out, but quite honestly, the thought of that took me back to the damn fertility clinic and killed my desire. Hopefully, that experience wouldn’t turn into some PTSD shit that took masturbation off the menu permanently. I shivered at the thought.
Stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway, I went to my bedroom and dug through my drawers for jeans and a T-shirt. Most of my clothes were unpacked, but the kitchen was a disaster. Boxes littered the floor and I sure hoped I got all the cold foods into the refrigerator. I’d know by the smell in a few more days if I hadn’t. The little rental house was perfect until I figured out where exactly I wanted to live in this town. Maybe six months or a year under my belt on the new job and I’d take the plunge to put down roots in the form of my first mortgage payment.
I figured I’d grab some greasy fish and chips at Hell’s Tavern tonight and wash it down with a beer. Perfection. And if there happened to be a pretty lady in attendance, I’d simply introduce myself to be neighborly. Isn’t that what they did in small towns?
The night air had cooled off considerably, reminding me how close we were to the ocean. I locked my door and headed down the porch stairs to my truck. Crickets created a symphony from hidden locations, but there were no other sounds. I put my hands in my jeans pockets and closed my eyes for a second right there in my gravel driveway.
Silence.
Damn, I’d forgotten what the night sounded like when there wasn’t that constant hum of traffic and people. This. This was what I moved here for.
I opened my eyes and peered up at the sky. Stars dotted the blueish-black canvas, winking at me like they too were delighted to be alive.
My truck engine cranked over as I started it. I almost felt guilty for making noise even though my closest neighbor was an acre away. The house I’d rented had boasted a wraparound porch and I’d leased it sight unseen based on that fact alone. Luckily, it seemed to be in a good area. Just a couple families on either side of me, with plenty of land in between to keep some privacy.
Once I hit Main Street, I had no trouble finding street parking almost directly outside of Hell’s Tavern. The place looked downright old with its weathered wood plank walls and squeaky front door. The windows didn’t offer a view in or out as they held every blinking neon beer sign ever produced.
I scanned the whole place as cops always do, seeing just a few men sitting at tables by themselves. Two younger guys were at the bar with three ladies with them. I sidled up to the other side of the bar’s U-shaped all-wood bar top.
“What can I get ya, son?” A grizzly guy in a black shirt approached, throwing a towel over his shoulder that may have been white at some point in the night. His handlebar mustache looked to be an original, grown long before it was fashionable or badass.
“I’ve heard the fish and chips is good here. Can I get an order of that and whatever IPA you have on tap?”
He nodded and got my beer, moving a little slow, but then again, he did seem a bit on the old side. You could never tell with these biker guys. Could be thirty, could be eighty. I sat on the creaky leather stool and let the old-town ambiance soothe my stress levels.
He slid the frosty mug my way and I didn’t care about anything but that first sip sliding down my throat. Sometimes the only way to salvage a day is to end it with a good beer.
“Rough day?”
I blinked, realizing the bartender was talking to me. I shrugged. “Just got a whole lot better.”
He stuck his hand out over the bar. “I’m Nugget.”
I tilted my head to the side. I didn’t particularly want to get in a fight tonight, so I wasn’t going to comment on that name. “Bain. Nice to meet you.”
“The new warden, right?” He still hadn’t cracked a smile, but I didn’t care. Just keep the beers cold and that was enough of a welcome for me.
“Yep.”
A giggle of feminine persuasion just then interrupted our stimulating conversation. I looked across the bar and found a woman in a small and tight halter top staring right back at me, a gleam in her eye telling me my day was most certainly getting better by the second.
She was hot.
“Don’t even think about it. Sheriff’s daughter,” Nugget attempted to whisper at me. Came out just shy of a shout, but I appreciated the heads-up.
Well, shit. There went that option for the evening. I tore my eyes away and told myself to settle down. I wasn’t stepping into that kind of mess my first month in town. Guess I’d eat my fish and chips, drink my beer, and get to bed to prepare for day two at the prison. It had to be better than day one. At least I wouldn’t start it off by shooting my load into a tiny cup.
I’d save my search for a lady friend for the weekend.
There had to be a woman in Hell seeking the kind of entertainment I was willing to give.
Hot, sexy, and no commitments whatsoever.
3
Lucille
The refrigerators kept up a steady hum, the kind of white noise that could put you to sleep if you weren’t diligent in your caffeine intake. Thankfully, I’d stopped by Coffee first thing this morning and hightailed it to work before that damn prison bus could run me off the road again. Being late was not a trend I intended to follow.
