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But my hope is gone.
And now that my hope has been extinguished, all I feel is despair.
Heartbreak.
And complete, utter depression.
“Molly, get in here and bring us some beers!” Hammerhead calls out.
I sigh and fight back the tears that are welling in my eyes. He’ll get pissed if he sees me crying. But I’m so depressed and so frustrated, I don’t know what else to do. The last thing I want to be doing right now is playing bar wench for these pigs. Especially when they’re in the same room as the beer cooler. That pig is literally ten feet from the bar. All he has to do is stand his fat ass up and walk over to the cooler and get his own stinking beers. But no, holler at me to come serve them instead. Yeah, that makes sense.
“Molly! Now!” Hammerhead screams at me.
Wiping my eyes, I sniff back the tears and walk out into the main room. I avoid eye contact with any of them as I walk to the bar and pull six bottles out of the cooler and set them on a tray. I pop the tops off them, then carry the tray over to the tables where they’re sitting, handing them all out.
“Grab us a couple bowls of peanuts too, while you’re up,” Hammerhead snaps.
The guys all stand up and cheer wildly, almost knocking over their full bottles. A couple of the empty ones do topple over and hit the ground, shattering on impact.
“Clean those up,” Hammerhead orders.
Though he hasn’t laid a hand on me since Hawk has been here, he’s been more demanding than usual. He’s been boorish and rude. Somehow he’s been even more degrading than before, which is saying something.
“Hurry up!” he snaps.
Still fighting the tears, I set the tray down on an empty table and walk into the kitchen, grabbing the broom and a dustpan. As I sweep up the mess, I hear a motorcycle rumble into the parking lot and feel my heart drop into my stomach. Hammerhead mutters under his breath and all of a sudden, the mood in the main room changes. It becomes heavy and dark. It’s coming from Hammerhead but the other guys are picking up on it and it’s affecting their mood. The cheering for the game is more subdued. Less enthusiastic.
Hawk’s footsteps sound on the porch and Hammerhead’s face darkens almost instantly. The only one who doesn’t seem bothered by it all is Hogwild.
“Fuck,” Hammerhead mutters.
The door opens and Hawk steps in. Our eyes meet for a brief instant, sending an electric jolt through my heart. He turns and looks at the TV.
“Cards, Lions, huh?” he notes. “What’s the score?”
Nobody says anything for a long moment, adding to the tension that’s already filling the room. Hawk chuckles to himself.
“Twenty-one-seven. Cards are up,” Hogwild finally answers. “You a Cards fan?”
“Nah. Raiders, born and raised,” Hawk answers.
“Sorry to hear that,” Hogwild says with a chuckle. “Must be rough.”
“It can be. But we’re lookin’ good this season,” Hawk shrugs. “Gannon is lighting it up. Mark my words, Raiders are going to be in the Super Bowl in a year.”
Hogwild laughs. “I’ve got a hundred that says you’re high.”
“I’ll take that bet.”
Hawk smiles and heads for the bar. The game comes back on, and the guys, taking their cue from Hogwild, start getting into it again. The cheering, though still somewhat subdued, at least has a little more gusto to it. Except for Hammerhead, who’s still sitting there glowering at the TV, pouting like a child. As he passes me, Hawk gives me a meaningful look then lowers his eyes to his hand. I see a slip of paper poking out of his fist and feel my heart leap from my stomach up into my throat.
I finish sweeping up the broken glass, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening, all the while I’m trying to keep myself from sprinting to the bar to see what Hawk’s note says. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m surprised they can’t hear it over the TV. But I somehow manage to control myself, though I glance over at Hawk. He’s looking back at me to make sure I’m seeing him slip his note under a rag. I glance around and nobody seems to be paying any attention, which is good.
Carrying the dustpan over to the trash can behind the bar, I pass Hawk, who doesn’t even glance at me. He’s playing it incredibly cool, and I feel like I’m on the verge of exploding. He sits down at one of the tables and starts to joke around with the guys as they watch the game.
The iciness that marked his entrance soon fades and even Hammerhead’s mood lightens. It’s not long before they’re all into the game, hollering, screaming, and talking crap to one another. It’s such a normal scene I’m watching. One I’m sure is playing out in countless living rooms around the country right now.
I casually pick up the rag and find his note. My hands trembling, my heart thundering, I open it and almost cry out when I read it.
