7. The Flying Hog #2
Jesse's expression hardens. "She's not happy most of the time."
Marlow snorts. "You don't help."
"Go," Jesse demands in an icy tone. He looks down at me, raising a brow. "You don't look too hot, babe. You gonna be okay?"
"Mhmm," I hum through my discomfort. "I'm good."
"Don't break any glasses," he says, turning on his heel. He catches Marlow's gaze. "She breaks, you pay, got it?"
"Yes, boss ," Marlow sneers, tucking her engagement ring back into her shirt as Jesse heads toward the side door that leads into the clubhouse.
"Let's go." She nods to the bar, rows upon rows of various types of spirits lining the vinyl-decorated back wall.
I follow her with heavy footsteps. She pours me a glass of water from a dirty jug, and purses her lips. "So...you're really Beau's sister?"
"You..." I take the glass from her hands, the sparkle from her red nail polish catching my eye. Cute. Taking a sip, I mutter, "You called him Beau."
"I told you he tells me everything," she says, leaning against the counter. "'Cept that he's got a sister, apparently." She watches me with a curious gaze as I chug the rest of the room-temperature water. "You guys close?"
"Clearly not anymore." I sigh, placing the glass down. "We were at one point, though. We haven't...I mean...we lost touch for a few years."
"Shitty," Marlow hums, nodding. "I got an older sister too. Haven't seen or talked to her since I left home a couple of years ago. She was a real cunt, though, so it's not a huge loss. "
"Oh." My eyes widen at her vulgar language. "How did you and my brother, um...meet?"
"In here," Marlow replies, tidying up the coaster pile as she grabs a beer glass from a belligerent man sitting at the bar and proceeds to refill the cup. She slides it back to him. "Must have been like a year and a half ago, now? Yeah, that sounds about right."
"How old are you?" I ask, studying her actions as she navigates around the bar. I bet she could do this job with her eyes closed.
"Just turned twenty," she says, grabbing two shot glasses and a bottle of bourdon. She pours the spirit until it's overflowing. She grins at me. "I don't measure, but you should."
"You're technically not allowed to be serving alcohol in that case," I note, hating that I sound like Momma. "It's illegal."
"What are you gonna do? Call the pigs?" Marlow snorts, delivering the two shots to a couple of patrons. "That'll be ten bucks." She gives one of the men a stern look. "If you leave without paying again, I'll take your left nut, got it?"
"That's cold, Mar." His buddy laughs. "Bastard's only got that one left."
"I know." Marlow smirks, smacking the man on the shoulder with a rag. "Pay up."
"Who's the blonde?" one of the men asks, handing Marlow two fives. He grins up at me, flashing his yellow teeth. "Got a name, sweetheart?"
"Don't even think about it, Jiggs," Marlow says, pocketing the bills. "She's Rad's sister. "
"Oh," Jiggs hums, disappointment plastered over his reddening face. He taps his buddy's arms. "You hear that, Poe? This pretty little thing is Rad's sister."
"Savannah," I say, finding my voice. "My name's Savannah."
"Ooof." Poe smiles, licking his chapped lips. "Say it again."
"Drink your fucking bourdon and shut up," Marlow says, scowling as she grabs my wrist and drags me back behind the bar.
"Ignore those idiots. They're regulars. Wannabe bikers.
Harmless but annoying as fuck. If you keep pouring, they'll be happy.
Just make sure that"—she raises her voice, yelling at drunk and drunker—"they pay! "
"Does that happen often?" I ask, swallowing. "Them not paying?"
"Less now since JP put up that sign." Marlow points to a handwritten note above the cash register. "Pay or die."
I blink. "That's a joke, right? He wouldn't actually kill someone over ten bucks, would he?"
Marlow shrugs. "Don't know. Everyone's been paying lately."
"Oh, well, that's good." I swallow, my gaze bouncing across the hips of all the patrons scattered in the bar. Holy Moses, I feel like I'm in Texas right now. There are enough guns in here to start a small militia. "So, um...what do I do?"
"Bartend," Marlow says with a duh expression.
"I'll be on the floor. You stay behind the bar.
I'll leave the orders over here." She taps the rubber place mat.
"Try to be fast, okay? You don't wanna keep these guys waiting.
" She nods at the register. "It's cash only.
Prices are on the board." She clicks her tongue as a group of bikers enters the bar.
"Get ready. These fuckers look thirsty."
They aren't thirsty.
They are parched .
Never in my life have I seen so much alcohol consumed in such a short period of time.
Jager bombs. Beer. Shots. Heck, one 'em even ordered a tequila sunrise.
I had to look up the recipe, but I'm fairly certain I could've given the man a glass of orange juice, and he wouldn't have noticed the difference.
With a sheen of sweat on my forehead, I yawn as I pour the umpteenth pint of lager and set it on the mat.
"Damn, princess." Jesse thumps down on the bar stool in front of me, grinning as he scans my exhausted face. "You look rough."
"I am so tired," I whine, wiggling my toes for pain relief. "And my feet hurt."
"Nuh-uh." He lets out a smug chuckle. "You're not allowed to complain. I warned you, didn't I?"
"I think I can literally hear my feet screaming at me.” I rest my elbows on the counter, dropping my head into my palms. "Is it time to go home yet? I want a nice, long bubble bath."
"Soon—"
Jesse's cut off by a feminine scoff. "'Sup, Paxton. Here for a drink?"
I lift my head up to find a stunning black-haired woman standing beside him.
"Andy," Jesse grunts, sucking in a sharp breath of air. "You're late."
"Whoops," she says, slamming her purse on the counter. "Won't happen again. So sorry ." Her jaw locks as she looks over the bar at me. "Who's this?"
"That's Savannah. Rad's sister," Jesse explains curtly, standing up and creating space between him and Andy. "She's working days while she waits for the boys to come back."
"Oh," Andy hums, unimpressed, as she flips her long hair over her shoulder. Ignoring my presence, she bats her lashes. "You got plans later tonight?" She cocks her head. "I'm off at midnight."
"Busy," Jesse says, clearing his throat. He nods at me. "Babysitting duties."
Andy blanches. "What do you mean by that?"
"Let's go home," Jesse states, much to my relief. He holds his arm out, gesturing to the exit as I circle the bar. "After you."
"JP!" Andy calls out as I lethargically follow Jesse out of the bar. Holy moly, I am more beat than a lumpy mattress. "Jesse!"
"You're being a tad rude, aren't you?" I mumble, suppressing a yawn. "Clearly, she wants to chat with you."
"Tough shit," Jesse says dryly. "Chick needs to learn the word 'no.'"
"Jesse!" Andy hollers in a frustrated tone. "Are you fucking kidding me? Fine! Leave! Fuck if I care! Have fun with that ."
" That ?" I ask as we walk toward his bike. "What does she mean by that ?"
Nothing," he mutters. "Ignore her. "
"Great...she gonna hate me, isn't she?" I ask, mentally and physically exhausted.
"Probably." Jesse glances over his shoulder, wincing as Andy stares at us, fuming with her arms crossed. "Definitely."
"Well, that's just peachy," I mutter, yanking the helmet from his hands. "Day one, and I've already got enemies."
Jesse laughs. "Welcome to Sons of Sorrow, princess."