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Fuck that shit.
I needed something a little more discreet.
That’s why I slipped out and hopped into one of the rentals that were made available for band use. It was nothing special, just a shiny little red jeep – not really my style, but I didn’t really care. After all, who the fuck was I trying to impress out here?
Hitting the road, I found my way to the Interstate and just started driving.
Once I got away from the light pollution, the night sky was beautiful. Crystal clear stars without a cloud in view. It was hard to find the time to appreciate the stars when you were on seemingly permanent tour.
Only two more weeks of this shit.
Another little voice reminded me: for now.
That’s life. Hard work plus luck begets success. A spot of good luck definitely sparks the fire, but the hard work? That’s what keeps the blaze going strong. I knew damn well I’d be back on tour soon enough.
After about thirty minutes cruising down the highway in the rental jeep, I decided to take a chance on the next exit. Out here, the tall, monolithic restaurant and gas station sides were all weeded out, and I was lucky to spot a Chevron station from the interstate.
This particular exit looked like it led to the middle of nowhere. The sign said “Riverton”, but the endless, dark woods all around practically screamed “dilapidated little town.”
Never heard of the place.
Sounded small. Quaint.
Just to my tastes.
But after cruising down the main road into town, I realized that I might have chosen a place a little too small. There wasn’t a lot to this little backwoods town. Hell, I hesitate to even call it a town.
True to its namesake, it was situated on a riverbank. The spot was primarily residential, with a ton of ramshackle houses and borderline huts. Not a whole lot of businesses. You had your hardware stores, combination gas station slash small grocer, and a few tiny, ancient restaurants. This was one of those little commuter towns where everybody drives forty-five minutes to work in the city.
If this place wasn’t the sticks, nothing was.
I’d just about given up on finding this place when I spotted a derelict old bar by the side.
Riverton Bar...
“Alright,” I muttered to myself, flicking on my blinker and slowing down. “So long as they don’t actually piss in the stills, this should be fine…”
Something about the place looked appealing despite its shoddy state. Maybe it was just that it was so different from anywhere I’d been since hitting it big. These days my life was full of big city bars and clubs, and the occasional lavish hotel room after-party.
But that was only really part of it.
It just looked like how I felt inside.
Filthy.
Broken-down.
Borderline functional.
Committed to the cause, I pulled up beside a battered collection of old trucks and crumpled, ancient sedans.
Hopping out of the jeep, I became aware of how clean and pristine the rental looked, especially beside these dirty, sputtering rust-buckets…
And, glancing down at myself, I realized that I was definitely going to stick out like a sore fucking thumb in these parts. I hadn’t even bothered to change from my stage clothes.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside, walking into redneck central dressed like a fucking rockstar.
Which, let’s be honest.
I totally fucking was.
With a glance, I surmised the atmosphere. Not too many people here, maybe a dozen at most, but the ones that were painted a pretty vivid picture for me.
A group of gnarled old bikers.
Couple of sloppy rednecks.
Some older women holed up in the corner.
Yeah…definitely not my speed.
I hesitated at the door, but then my eyes fell on the bartender. She was in the middle of taking a drink order at one of the bar tops and was about as out of place as an angel in hell.
She wasn’t just pretty. She looked fucking beautiful... Her luscious hair barely graced her shoulders. Long, bare legs stretched for miles from her miniskirt down to her cute and almost criminally disheveled pair of red Converse sneakers. Her low-cut blouse hinted at moderately sized breasts – not too big, but not small.
Perfect.
My feet moved of their own volition, stepping closer towards the counter. The patrons were already looking at me with their stupid, judgmental eyes, but I didn’t give a shit.
They could get fucked.
Half of them looked like they could use it.
As I comfortably took my seat, the bartender glanced over her shoulder at me – flashing me a look at her sharp and beautiful eyes.
My cock twitched in my shredded jeans.
That’s when I knew.
I was fucking her tonight.
Angel
Tending bar as an eighteen-year-old girl – particularly one with a pretty face – had taught me a valuable skill: the art of keeping an eye on the entire room at once.
The newest arrival proved to be a bit of a distraction. He was dressed in a tight shirt that clung to a deliciously muscular frame. A brief slick of red ran through his hair, and he finished off the look with a pair of fashionably torn black jeans. He’d been staring ever since he walked in. I could feel his burning gaze bore into me from behind as he hungrily treated himself to some eye candy.
Without a word between us, I knew I could flirt a big tip out of him. Maybe it would be enough to get some decent food for the next few days. It was time to play hard to get.
“What can I get you?” I offhandedly asked him after plugging in the previous order.
“What do you want to get me?” he replied.
I turned around to try and catch the jackass undressing me with his eyes, but his gaze was surprisingly fixated on the chalkboard drink specials instead.
“I’ll take a draft,” he said before I could respond to his little comment.
“Which draft?”
He chuckled arrogantly to me, flashing a condescending but admittedly sexy smile.
“Your favorite draft.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I don’t drink.”
A genuine look of surprise flickered across the man’s face. “You work behind the bar...”
“All the more reason not to drink. Let’s try this one again: which draft do you want?”
He nodded thoughtfully, ignoring the tone of my voice. After a moment, he opened his mouth to answer, his tongue absent-mindedly sliding across his canine.
“I’ll take Abita. Tall.”
I took a second to shake that sexy tongue flick out of my head.
“Amber or Lager?”
“Lager.”
“You’re not from around here,” I observed.
“Never been here,” he answered, his lip curling up into a sly smile again. “Name’s Trent. Trent Masters.”
Trent Masters. Didn’t hurt to know exactly who was pissing me off at any given moment. His name sounded a little familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
I couldn’t place a lot of things these days.
But he didn’t need to know that.
“Coming right up,” I said, intentionally brushing my fingertips against his before turning toward the tap. It sent a small bristle through me, which I promptly tried to ignore.
“Thanks, beautiful.”
Beautiful… It was nice to hear him say the word. Most of the people who called me beautiful were old enough to be my grandfather… Trent was anything but. He was handsome with a capital H. Even with his stupid clothes and his gelled hair, I couldn’t help but notice up close that he was built like a damn linebacker. I didn’t like it one bit.
Which means, of course, that I was practically salivating and wanted to touch him again…
As Trent curled his fingers around his fist and rested his elbows, I could see how thick and well defined his huge forearms were even as I grabbed a glass. A little higher
up, his bulky, broad shoulders stretched his dark shirt. A simple medallion hung around his neck, draped over what were undoubtedly rock-hard pecs.
Ignoring his gaze – and his stupidly hot muscles – I whipped up a frothing, overflowing pint in a chilled glass. With a glance stained with disdain, I plunked the draft beer down in front of him.
“Enjoy.”
“Oh, I think I will,” he smiled again.
UGH.
While Trent began swigging it, I checked on the other patrons. They had been mostly ignoring us, which pleased me. Everyone seemed fine.
Well, almost everyone.
“Hey, Darlin’! Bring those sweet cheeks over here with another round of shots!”
I sighed internally. Fucking bikers.
“What’ll you be having?”
“More Fireball!”
I couldn’t help but grin to myself. Fireball. That was such a college kid choice.
As I turned for the bottle, I realized that they had seen my smile and were grinning lecherously among themselves.
