Page 5 of Dancin' with Demons

“What shifts need to be covered?” I say, leaning my hands on the counter as they both jump and turn toward me.

Troy goes to open his mouth, but Edna points right at his face with a glare. “No. Raylynn, you already work enough.”

“Saturday morning and Sunday evening,” Troy says in a rush, only to have Edna pick up a plastic salt shaker off the table and chuck it at him, hitting him right in the chest. Troy bends down, grabs the shaker, tosses it back to throw salt over his shoulder, and then moves to slam it back on the table. “I know you weren’t supposed to work doubles those days, but no one else can cover.”

Edna lets out a frustrated growl. “You are an ass, you know that?”

Coming around the counter, I stop on the other side of the table that Edna is cleaning. “I don’t mind. Honestly, I could use the money. I just have to check and make sure Miss Irene can take Savior, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Edna stares at me for a moment, and her expression softens. “Are you sure, honey?”

She and Troy know that Savior and I struggle, just not to what extent. My bosses are like family, but I don’t share our situation with anyone outside Miss Irene. I don’t want anyone pitying us or trying to give me handouts. It would feel weird, and I’d rather work hard and earn my money, no matter how bad we need more than I can make. “I really don’t mind.”

Edna finally sighs and nods. “Fine. But if we can give you an extra day off next week, we will. One of the slow days so you don’t miss the income, but you get an extra day with your baby.”

“Okay,” I say with a smile as I turn and head back to the counter to get the coffee and tea going for the day.

Thankfully, it’s gonna be busy today, and that makes the time pass faster. I already know that I’m going to be dog-tired by the time I get home, but the most important thing this weekend is getting the electric back on, and if that means I have to work two extra doubles, then so be it.

Chapter 3

Renegade

Sleepin’ until five and then gonna dinner was the plan when I crashed this mornin’. Is that what happened? Fuck no. Because Sandra decided at three thirty that she wanted to hit the beach for a few hours and then go to dinner. Trickster, bein’ the fuckin’ pretty boy he is, though, refused to go to dinner until he could wash the sand out of his ass, so at least I got to change first. Standin’ outside by his truck with Catacomb, we’re still waitin’ on him and Sandra to come out, and it’s already six thirty.

“I swear, if my woman is ever on time for shit, I’ll grow a fuckin’ tail,” Catacomb says with a huff just as the front door to the main house opens, and Sandra comes out with Trickster right behind her.

She’s wearin’ tight black leggin’s and an off-the-shoulder sweater with her hair in a high ponytail. As soon as Catacomb gets his eyes on her, the lust between ‘em is damn near visible. I smirk and chuckle as she stops in front of him, and he grabs her hips and pulls her toward him for a kiss. My president is one of the baddest and most ruthless motherfuckers I’ve ever met, but with her, he’s a fuckin’ puppy dog on a real short leash. I ain’t mad at it, though. Catacomb ain’t had it east when it comes to women, at least not with what he’s told me in the last decade. His mom died in a car accident when he was young, and his other sister, Hot Doc’s twin, died when she was fifteen. Accidental drownin’ if I remember right. High school sweetheart was killed by a drunk driver their senior year, and the woman he was engaged to the year I met him was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Doctors gave her six months, but she only made it three. That’s why he’s so possessive with Sandra. If anythin’ happens to her, I think he might really lose his mind.

“So, where we gonna eat?” Trickster says with a bounce in his step as he comes up next to me.

Lashin’ my hand out, I snatch his keys from his hand. “Wherever Sandra wants, and I’m drivin’.”

“That’s some bullshit, Ren,” he whines as I lift my arm and hold the keys out of his reach. “My truck, man.” He jumps to try and grab ‘em, but his five-foot-elven doesn’t come close to how high my hand is in the air.

“I don’t give a fuck, brother,” I say, playfully shovin’ him backward. “I refuse to listen to another fuckin’ Celine Dion song on this trip, so you’re ridin’ bitch, and I’m fuckin’ drivin’. Driver picks the music.”

Catacomb and Sandra laugh, and then she reaches up to pat Trickster on the head like a little kid. “Don’t worry, hon. Tomorrow, I promise we can do Somethin’ fun just for you.”

Trickster smiles at her, and I swear, if he had a tail, it’d be waggin’ right now. Then he turns to me and sticks his tongue out.

“We’re gonna head over to the diner,” Catacomb says, givin’ me a nod. “You remember where it’s at?”

“Yeah,” I say gruffly as I head to the driver’s side of the truck. It’s only a fifteen-minute ride to the diner from the house, and Trickster doesn’t shut up the entire fuckin’ time.

“I’m just sayin’, man,” he says as I pull into the parkin’ lot, “if you go get yourself some good pussy, likerealgood, you’d get past this shit with what’s her name and be a-okay, brother.”

Slammin’ the car into park, I turn to face him, tryin’ not to slap the shit out of him. “Her name is Raylynn, and if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll absolutely take whatever punishment Cat gives me for knockin’ your teeth out.”

His eyes widen for a moment, and then his expression softens. “My bad, man. I remember her, ya know?”

Turnin’ my eyes forward, I stare at the side of the diner. “I know. I remember you bringin’ plates and shit for pizza because you didn’t know her style.”

Trickster gives a low chuckle. “I’m sorry shit went the way it did, Ren. Everyone could tell you fell hard and fast for her.”

Sighin’, I throw the driver’s side door open and get out, slammin’ it behind me. As much as this kid gets on my last nerve, I know he means well. Ain’t nobody in this club had an easy life, that’s for damn sure. If they had, they wouldn’t fuckin’ be in it. That goes for the clubwhores, too. Most of ‘em have what Catacomb and I callsurface issues. Little trouble here and there, family issues. They end up runaways and find their way to us. We ain’t got a use for women aside from needin’ whores. Catacomb’s the only one with an ol’ lady. Trickster, he’s got his own shit. Dad is a real piece of work, from what I get. Kid did three years in a juvie jail and got released when he turned eighteen. He joined us six months later after bein’ on the street.

Catacomb and Sandra lead us into the diner, and it’s fuckin’ packed. Damn near every table is occupied. Catacomb steps up to the hostess podium and looks around as if he’s lookin’ for someone.

---