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Sure, Meryl's tended to serve a less than respectable clientele, and I had a better chance of finding a hot guy in a nursing home, but somehow, I was alright with that.
I didn't want to get laid.
Not really.
Well, I did.
But not with just any rando.
As cheesy and romantic and absurd as it was to admit, I wanted it to be him.
I threw on a pair of shorts, not bothering with any makeup or heels, and headed out toward Meryl's on foot, not sure how shitfaced I planned on getting.
Meryl's was nothing to write home about, just a typical dive bar decor and clientele, but with a small liquor store up front, manned by a tall, thin woman with shoulder-length brown hair, a perfect face, and an attitude she wore around her like an old, beloved jacket. I hadn't ever shared more than a few comments with her since I had moved into town, but decided I liked her on principle. Maybe because of the way she dealt with the shitheads who frequented the place, getting sloppy, hitting on her. You had to respect a woman who so effortlessly handled herself.
"It's sleazeball central," she called to me as a greeting as she shot off a text on her phone.
"What else is new?" I shot back as I walked into the back, finding the bar, and about four guys in various states of fuckedupedness.
"Well, look what we have here," one of them started, spotting me, slapping a hand into his buddy's rounded belly. "Honey, you are sight for..."
"No," I cut him off as I pointed to the backbar at the bottle I wanted.
"No, what, beautiful?"
Ugh.
Nothing skeezier than getting called beautiful by a man old enough to be your grandfather. His balls probably hung out the leg of his boxer shorts.
Stifling a shudder, I reached for my drink, sniffing, then throwing it back.
"No, I don't want to talk to you. I don't want you to talk to me. I want to have my drink in peace."
"But it would be so much..." he started, trailing off when a small group of men moved in through the front to the back, blocking his view of me.
Men.
In leather cuts.
Each one looking exhausted, defeated.
I wanted to know. And I didn't.
That was a new one for me.
I always wanted to know, even if what I would learn was harsh and ugly.
I was an old hand at harsh and ugly.
But it wasn't my place to ask these men who didn't even know I existed.
But then I saw him.
Not that him.
Not the him whose memory had been keeping me awake at night in his absence.
But the other him.
With the great skin and kind eyes.
Roderick.
"Roderick," I called before I could even think any better of it, making his head snap in my direction, recognition lighting his eyes momentarily, but not remaining, just defeat replacing it. "Que pasa?" I asked, watching as he sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
"We found her," he offered, moving closer. "And she was alright. But..."
"What happened?"
"She ran away."
"She ran away?"
"Yeah, that's the reaction we all had," he agreed, nodding at my furrowed brows. "Got some people working on some leads, but this is Ferryn we're talking about here. I know you don't know her, but if she's got it in her head to get away without a trace, she can do it."
"I'm sorry, Roderick. That sucks."
"Being helpless sucks," he agreed, accepting the beer that was offered to him.
"Who's this?" one of the men behind him asked, tall, built, dark-skinned, the edge to his voice sending a very clear sign even to me. You shouldn't be talking to strangers about club business.
"Virgin, this is Lou. Lou, this is Virgin."
"Lou!" a female voice yelled from the front of the store, sounding both surprised and excited. Not a second later, the girl from the front appeared in the doorway, a tall, bearded man at her back. "You're Lou?" she asked, lips open, head shaking. "The Lou?"
"I'm Lou," I agreed, saluting her with my drink.
Her gaze flew to Roderick, eyes rolling. "You guys suck at giving descriptions. Maybe if you said The girl with the bullets tattoo I would have known exactly who you were talking about."
"You know guys," I said, shrugging. "It's all tits and ass and hair when they talk about us."
"Maybe not so much tit in my case," she allowed, waving at her rack as she moved over toward me. "The guys are going to need to drink this shit away tonight. Better if we just leave them to it," she informed me, claiming the stool next to mine as the bearded guy who'd come back with her got a round with his buddies. "Ferryn was the first Henchmen kid. They've all spent a lot of time with her. I'm new and even I have spent some time training her."
