Page 30 of Rambler's Snow Bunny
Again, I bite my tongue. The last thing I need to do is pop off at the mouth when I’m getting what I want.
“Thanks,” I say, keeping my voice even. “She won’t be a problem.”
Denali rolls his eyes. “She’s got a pussy. They’re always a fucking problem.”
The men around the table chuckle, but Denali waves them off, moving on to other business.
He reaches into a duffel bag on the floor beside him and pulls out several envelopes, tossing them across the table to each of us.
“Your cut from the Rochester run,” he says.
I catch mine and peek inside. Five Gs in hundred-dollar bills. It’ll come in handy for getting my woman some winter clothes.
The meeting continues, with updates on our various business interests. Klutch mentions a fight he has coming up at The Underground, our illegal fight club. Pee Wee talks about some issues with the Russians and their territory. I tune most of it out, my mind still on Pinky and the tasks ahead.
Finally, Denali asks if anyone has any other business, and when nobody speaks up, he bangs the gavel, dismissing us.
I file out of the room behind Pee Wee and Klutch. They’re discussing the upcoming fight, but I’m not really listening.
When I get back into the main room, my eyes go right to my ol’ lady. The phrase feels strange even in my head, but that’s what she is now.
My old lady.
My woman.
I get a little nervous, wondering how she’ll take the news, especially after what happened with Killer claiming her best friend without asking her about it first.
Fuck it. I can’t worry about it. I did what I had to do to keep her safe, and I’d do it again. Surely she’ll understand that.
At the table, she looks up at me questioningly. I nod in answer, and I watch as her body visibly relaxes. She was more worried about the club’s decision than I realized.
“Guess what?” Cleo says as I approach, grabbing my attention. “I offered your woman a job.”
I arch a brow. “A job?”
“At Shear Madness,” Cleo explains. “My friend Mercy owns it. Pinky was a hairdresser in Miami. Did you know that?”
I didn’t, actually. I look at Pinky with renewed interest.
Pinky grins, her cheeks going that rosy shade that makes my cock stir. “I’ll have to get my license here in St. Louis first.”
Cleo waves her off. “It’ll be easy peasy. Mercy will help you with all that. You can start as a shampoo girl until your license transfers.”
“That’s... that would be amazing,” Pinky says, with genuine excitement in her voice.
Something in my chest loosens. She needs this—a job, friends, a purpose. She needs a real life here.
“Thanks, Cleo,” I say, meaning it.
Cleo winks at me. “My pleasure. I take care of my girls.”
“Ready to head out?” I ask Pinky. “We’ve still got some shit we need to do before the sun goes down.”
Like, go by my place and get my truck, buy her an entire winter wardrobe, and hopefully get settled in at the house before the snow hits.
Pinky stands, hugging each of her new friends goodbye. “Thank you all so much.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Demi says, squeezing her tight. “Girls’ night at our place.”
