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“What brings you back here, Transom? And where the hell did you go?”
“The army,” I explained. “Just finished my tour. I needed a place away from here where I could figure things out and I didn’t really know what other options I had.”
Jones sighed, patting my shoulder. “Yeah, I get the feeling. Feels like there’s no options for anyone anymore. Folks taking on three jobs just to scrape by.”
“Speaking of jobs,” I said, “I don’t suppose you’re looking for an assistant. Don’t tell me you’re trying to run this whole damn place by yourself still.”
“You act like I’ve got one foot in the grave, you ungrateful scamp.” Jones was grinning at me, though, so I could tell he didn’t mind. We’d always snapped back and forth at each other like this, giving each other a hard time. “You got a place to live yet?”
“Not yet. Figured I’d get a job first, make sure I had the money to pay for whatever place I got.”
“There’s a small apartment above the shop. You remember Benji used to bed down in there.”
Benji was Jones’ younger brother. He was a drifter, in and out, he’d blow into town for a couple of months usually around the holidays and then disappear for weeks, then show up again, then head off again.
“Yeah, how’s he doing?”
Jones shook his head. “Died last year. Ah, well. All that smoking, y’know? I told him to quit ages ago. I figure if you want it, it’s yours. It ain’t a spot to lay your head forever but it’s sturdy and warm.”
“That’s really generous of you,” I said honestly. “I’d appreciate that. How much do you want me to—”
“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re the closest thing to family I’ve got around here. I figure Georgia Adams and I can split parental guardianship fifty-fifty.” Jones winked at me. “You don’ have to pay anything. It’s just sitting up there doing nothing, I never use it. You make it yours for as long as you need it. Besides, it’s free security. Nobody will break into my shop with you sleeping overhead.”
“Deal.” We shook on it. “I’ll come by tomorrow to start work?”
“Sounds good to me.” Jones’ face softened. “It’s good to have you back, Pike. Really.”
Well, at least there was one person in town who’d missed me, who wanted to see me. If nothing else, I had Jones, and God knew he needed someone to keep an eye on him as he rounded the corner into his twilight years. I had that, at least.
6
Billie
Friday nights I worked at the local tavern. It didn’t even have a name. It had never needed one. It had been around since this town had first sprung up when someone or other found oil, and it still mostly served oil field hands.
The men could be… how should I put this… old fashioned. With their stupid ways of treating women. I could handle them just fine, though. After my own brother had as good as called me a slut, I’d toughened up. I’d always been sassy but fuck if I was going to let any man talk down to me, call me sweetheart or try to touch me. The men in this tavern knew their place and they knew better than to try anything with me. I’d break their hands.
It was a Friday night, so obviously it was busy, and I was going crazy running around getting everyone drinks, joking and laughing with the customers. Once they knew what the rules were in their behavior towards me, the men were easy to deal with. They all liked me, and they weren’t bad guys. I liked most of them, too.
The door swung open and I glanced towards it out of habit, just to see who was coming in. I knew just about every face in this place. The only people who weren’t easily recognized were the college students, and those were the ones I had to watch out for. Most of them were too young to drink, but some of them were old enough, so I had to card all of them and do the math to make sure I wasn’t serving anyone underage. It was best to see them when they walked in and kind of head that shit off at the pass.
But when I looked up towards the front door, I didn’t see a college student.
I saw Pike.
Fuck. He was looking handsome as sin in a light blue cotton t-shirt, the kind that looked unbearably soft, and a darker plaid blue button up shirt hanging open, the sleeves pushed up, showing off his tan, muscled forearms. His jeans looked like they’d been painted onto him, and I could feel myself already starting to drool.
Dammit, why couldn’t Pike have been one of those guys who peaked in high school? Sure, it was always a bit humiliating to see someone you slept with who turned out to be not-so-hot later on in life because you had to convince everyone around you that they were super sexy at the time, I swear!
