7. The Flying Hog
The Flying Hog
"Fucking finally," Jesse huffs, leaning against his motorcycle as I strut toward him. "You said five minutes."
"I couldn't decide on a shirt," I explain, carefully maneuvering the walkway to avoid all the cracks in the pavement.
Momma always told me that first impressions matter, and if I want a successful first day as the new bartender, it is imperative that I look as confident as possible.
Confidence is cute blue jeans, a darling white over-the-shoulder shirt, and my lucky strappy heels. "How do I look?"
"Uncomfortable." Jesse lowers his Ray Bans to the tip of his nose as he gives me a questionable once-over. "You realize you're gonna be standing for like eight hours, right? Sure you don't wanna wear some sneakers?"
"No way," I say, glancing down at my feet. "These little babies can handle just about anything, standing included. "
"If you say so," Jesse hums, passing me a black helmet with a lifted blue mirrored visor. "Put this on."
"It's heavy," I note, holding both sides of the straps as I stare into the padded lining. "This looks tight."
"Supposed to be tight," he says, sighing as he helps me put on the helmet.
My eyes widen as the padding drags across my cheeks.
Oh God, that's definitely going to leave a foundation stain on the inside.
Jesse bites his lip in concentration, adjusting the fit as he fastens the straps. "How does it feel?"
"Like my head's 'bout to explode," I complain, tucking strands of loose hair under the foam padding. "Where is your helmet?"
"Only got one," Jesse says, mounting the motorcycle as I nervously linger behind him. He's not wearing a helmet? He's either extremely confident or simply reckless. Jesse revs the engine, looking back at me. "Well? Get on."
"How...I mean...where?" I swallow, eyeing the limited space behind Jesse. That's real tight. "I've never, you know..."
"Jesus," Jesse sighs, patting the raised "back seat," if we can even call it that. "Swing your leg over and sit your ass down." He points to a pedal in front of the engine-type thing. "Feet go here." His head snaps up as he adds sternly, "Make sure your foot doesn't touch the exhaust, okay?"
"Okay," I whimper, gripping Jesse's shoulders as I heave my leg over the bike and sit down on the leather seat. The pedal wedges between my heels, and I bite my lip. Shoot . Maybe sneakers were a good idea. Too bad I didn't pack any. "And I just, um...hold on to you?"
"Yup," Jesse says, adjusting his position as I gently rest my hands on his shoulder. "Waist, Savannah. My waist."
"Basically, you want me to hug you?" I ask tentatively. "Seems a bit intimate, no?"
"Fucking hell," Jesse mutters. "If you want to live, then I suggest you hold on to me, but hey, your life, your choice.
" He kicks back the stand and starts the engine.
I immediately latch onto his torso, my unfulfilled life flashing before my eyes.
"Good. Now"—he walks the bike backward a couple of feet, yelling over the rumbling—"all you need to do is hold on and lean when I lean, understand? "
"Lean when you lean?!" I ask, pulse quickening. "What does that mean?"
"Means that when we turn a corner," he explains, accelerating down the driveway, "you lean when I lean. If you don't, we could crash. Okay?"
"Crash?! Oh my God, we're going to die," I whimper, my palms sweating against his leather vest as he turns onto the dirt road, the uneven ground vibrating the entire bike. "Oh, I don't wanna die."
"Relax, princess," he shouts back at me. "You've got a helmet on. If anything, you'll just be partially paralyzed."
"Oh my God," I cry out, closing my eyes as the cool wind nips at my cheeks.
I forgot to put the visor down! Jesse revs the engine again, this time nearly doubling the speed.
My heart drops to my stomach as my grip tightens around his waist, my head spinning from fear and nausea.
Am I holding on too tight? I'm gonna suffocate him, aren't I? ! "Holy freaking shit balls!"
"Lean, princess," Jesse yells, and my eyes spring open. Oh, crap. A corner. Whimpering, I slowly lean toward the left, attempting to mimic Jesse's body movements. "Good girl. See? We didn't die."
"I hate this," I whine, my ass sweating as I count down the seconds in my head. It's only like a ten-minute drive. I can do this. I won't cry. I won't be that girl. "Are we there yet?"
"Just enjoy the ride," Jesse shouts, and I close my eyes again, unable to dissect how this mode of transportation could possibly bring joy to millions of people.
All is well. I'm okay. All is well. I'm okay. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. All is well. I am safe. All is well. I am freaking safe. Inhale. Exhale ? —
"Savannah." Jesse clears his throat. "We're here."
"We are?" I open my eyes to find that we're no longer in motion.
No longer on the brink of death. Oh God, we're parked.
Parked! "I'm alive!" With wobbly legs, I struggle to dismount the bike.
"Oh, great heavens." I hold my chest, looking up at the clear blue skies.
"We made it! Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. "
"Seriously?" Jesse asks, raising a brow as he holds out his hand and nods to the helmet. "We barely went over fifty. Tone it down, princess."
" Felt like a hundred ," I grumble, removing the helmet and handing it to Jesse. I rake my fingers through my tangled hair, cringing as I tug on the newly formed knots. "It's like a nest up here. "
"You look fine." Jesse sighs, clipping the helmet to the handlebars. He sucks in a sharp breath, scratching his chin as he watches me attempt to untangle my hair. "You ready?"
"What?" I ask, blinking. Reality catches up with me as two inebriated middle-aged bikers stumble out of the swinging bar doors, slurring their speech as they discuss one of the supposedly fuckable waitresses inside.
Oh boy. Swallowing, I read the vinyl sign hanging above the entrance.
" The Flying Hog ?" I look over at Jesse, fiddling anxiously with my fingers. "You name it?"
"No, my gramps did," Jesse explains, nodding at the drunken men as we pass them on our way to the front doors. "Passed it down to my mom and me after he croaked."
"Oh," I hum, waddling behind him as pebbles of gravel slip in between my toes. "So it's a family establishment?"
"Wouldn't say that." Jesse chuckles, swinging open the doors and revealing what I can only describe as a devil's refuge.
My shoes stick to the checkered tiled floors as crackling classic rock blares from the outdated sound system.
Neon Miller, Pabst, and Budweiser beer signs light up the dim and shoddy interior.
The kitschy decor is accompanied by three chalkboard panel menus and a seventies jukebox tucked in the corner of the room.
Jesse opens his arms, scanning my distraught features. "Welcome to The Hog, princess."
"It's..." I grimace at the fraying leather booths and cracking table tops as Jesse waves over a red-headed girl wearing a tight, white t-shirt with SOS printed across the chest in old English font. "It's nice. Real nice."
"Mar!" Jesse barks as the server rolls her eyes and weaves through the bustling dive bar toward us. "Marlow! Get over here."
It's only 10 a.m.! Why is it so busy in here?
"Morning, JP," Marlow chirps, tossing Jesse a wink as she stops in front of us. Her forehead creases and she crosses her arms, her notepad dangling in the air as she scowls at me. If looks could kill, I'd be chilling with Nana right now. "Who's the Barbie?"
"This is?—"
"I'm Savannah.” I hold out my hand as an invitation to bypass this silent girl competition. "I'll be helping out behind the bar for the next few days."
"Uh-huh." Marlow eyes my hand warily before turning to Jesse. "She come with plastic packaging?"
"Be nice," Jesse says, giving her a knowing smile. Dickhead. "She's Rad's sister."
"You're shitting me, right?" Marlow asks, gaze flitting down the length of my body as if she's searching for a hint of resemblance.
Three years ago, she wouldn't question that statement, but given how Beau looked in his mugshot, her apprehension is justifiable.
"Rad has a sister? No fucking way. He would've told me about her.
" She flashes me a tight-lipped smile. "He tells me everything. "
"Might wanna watch your tone, Mar," Jesse teases, giving me a cheeky side-eye. "That's your future sister-in-law you're talking to."
I nearly collapse on the ground .
"Sister-in-law?" My jaw drops. "You're engaged...to my brother?"
Marlow reaches inside her shirt and fishes out a necklace, a diamond-studded gold ring looped through the chain.
"We sure are," she says, admiring the tiny gemstone.
"We're planning on eloping to Vegas in a couple of months.
" She casts Jesse a brief look of frustration. "Once things calm down a little."
"I—"
Dread washes over me. He asked a woman to marry him?! But he's still a baby. He's only twenty years old. And he's going to marry... her?
My scrutinizing gaze floats over Marlow.
Box dyed crimson red hair. Tattoos up and down her arms. And I swear I saw a tongue ring.
Oh, I don't want to be a judgmental Judy, but this is not the type of girl I imagined Beau marrying.
Then again, I never thought he'd abandon me and run away. My mouth dries as my fingers tingle.
Feeling faint, I whisper, "I need water."
"Why don't you get Savannah a glass of water and then show her around the bar?" Jesse suggests, casting me a concerned look. "Get her familiar with the register, yeah? I'll be in the club if you need me." He pauses, glaring at Marlow. "Which you won't, right? "
"Right." Marlow blinks, nearly as shocked as I am. "We'll be fine," she says skeptically, forcibly smiling at me. "I'll get her trained up before Andy starts her shift." She bites her lip and hesitates before adding, "She's not happy with you, by the way. "