1
I’m notin the mood to fuck anyone tonight.
I got away with an excuse earlier this week because of my period—most paying customers don’t want a bloody mess—but it’s been six days, and Nell is going to know I’m stalling.
Fucking three guys a week is part of my job.
It’s all fine. It’s better than starving. Better than setting adrift all alone in the violent chaos after the asteroid hit, with no home and no protection. Here at Nell’s bar and brothel—known throughout the region as the Pub—I have my own small room, reasonable rations, and as much protection as any other woman in the area. Nell rules the roost with an iron fist, and any man who hurts one of her servers will get a beatdown from Trevor or Rick and never be allowed back.
The Pub is the only surviving establishment in central Virginia with access to quality beer and hard liquor. No one wants to risk being banished.
So it’s safe here for me. As safe as anywhere left in the shithole the world has become.
I lived alone before Impact. I’d lost the only real family I ever had, and my friends were barely more than acquaintances. Iworked as an accountant. I minded my business. I had no useful skills to offer after civilization collapsed.
So I do this now. I serve drinks and smile at customers and do my best to dodge stray slaps on the ass. And I fuck three guys a week. It’s all… whatever.
I just don’t feel like it tonight.
It doesn’t help that the main room is packed this evening. It’s a wide space with a large wooden bar lined with rickety stools, a few dozen tables of various sizes, and empty bottles displayed on shelves on every wall. Only one side has any windows, so we have to light the room with a motley assortment of lanterns run on batteries that are supposed to last forever. The uneven light casts weird reflections and leaves some corners darker than others.
The first thing I see, tying off my braid as I come out from the kitchen at the beginning of my shift, in the farthest, darkest corner of the room, is Cade.
He’s been a semiregular for a few months, showing up at least once a week. He always orders a beer, a shot of whiskey, and a bowl of stew with bread, and then he eats and drinks, sitting alone at a small table without saying a word to anyone.
I only know his name because Nell told me. The man has never said a word to me.
Perking up at the sight of him, I catch his eye and gesture that I’ll be over to him in a minute. I need to put on my apron and check with Pete about what’s in stock tonight.
As I tie my apron around my waist, I give myself a quick glance in the mirror. I have long dark hair I wear in one thick braid, dark eyes, tan skin, and a tall, slim body. I’m wearing a short red dress and expensive black boots I bought on a whim before Impact.
I turned twenty-seven a few weeks ago.
The woman I was two years ago, months before news of the asteroid’s impending approach was first announced and the world began to crumble, wouldn’t know who that girl in the mirror is.
It’s a random flicker of thought. The kind that sinks like a weight into your gut and then must be swept back into a dark corner of your mind. I can’t survive through the day if I indulge every gloomy reflection.
The world sucks.
But maybe it always has.
Shaking off the thought, I turn toward Pete, who is lining up glasses for beer.
“Hey, Jill. Trevor shot a deer, so the stew is venison. For the plates, we got ham, potatoes, and carrots. And we’re out of tequila.” Pete is gray and balding and used to be a college professor. He strolls through life like nothing ever troubles him. I’ve seen him block punches without spilling a drop of beer, and once he tipped an obnoxious drunk all the way off his stool with nothing but his thumb and two fingers.
“Okay. Thanks.”
When I turn back around, Poppy is sashaying across the room toward Cade.
Shit.
She’s trying to nab him.
I whirl around and tell Pete, “Beer and a whiskey.” Then I call out in my friendliest (fakest) tone, “I got him, Poppy! But I sure appreciate you covering!”
When Poppy turns to give me an annoyed look, I smile and smile and smile. Then gesture toward Pete, who is pouring out the drinks.
“I’m already here,” she says, preening her shiny hair and pouty lips and deep, exposed cleavage.
