Prologue
PROLOGUE
MERI
I’ve got a plan.
Two years ago…
“This can’t keep happening.”
I smother the groan building at the back of my throat. I’ve been avoiding my landlord for days because I don’t have the money for my rent, but the fucker caught up with me as I was leaving for work.
“I’ll have it by next week,” I tell him, praying like hell that I actually will.
Gerald sighs. “Meri, I’ve been more than patient with you since you moved in. But if I don’t have that money in my hand by Friday, I’ll have to start the eviction process.”
“That’s only three days!” I exclaim.
“And rent was due last week.”
“I know, but?—”
“But nothing, Meri,” Gerald snaps. “Just pay your rent.”
With that, he stalks away, back toward his own apartment, and I continue to my beat-up Camry. If I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late for my shift at Ballinger’s Bar. As the bartender, I make decent tips, but clearly not enough to keep my head above water.
“Glad you could make it,” Grady, my boss and the owner of Ballinger’s, quips when I stride through the bar’s entrance.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Had a leak in my apartment, and the repairman showed up late.”
Grady stares at me for a long moment before nodding. “Just text next time, ya?”
“Sure thing.”
Grady is a decent guy, but I have no interest in sharing my personal problems with him. What I am interested in is finding a way to make some extra cash. I already work as many shifts as possible at the bar, so that’s out of the question. But there has to be something I can do on the side.
As the night wears on, my mind races with possibilities, and every single time I’m able to slow down enough to really consider them, I keep coming back to one: poker games.
When I was growing up, my father ran a few poker games out of our garage, and I know that’s the only reason there was always food on the table and clothes on my back. My mother was a waste of space, so my dad did what he had to do.
The problem with his business was that it attracted some pretty unsavory people. Every game night, I was either sent to my room and told to lock the door or shipped off to stay with my grandmother. Those nights were a mixture of fun and fear, depending on where I spent my time.
“Hey, Meri!”
I whip around and grin at the biker sliding onto a stool. “Hey, Poker. What can I get ya?”
Poker was my very first customer when I started at Ballinger’s, and I liked him immediately. When he’s here, I know it’s going to be an entertaining shift.
“Just a beer,” he replies and then tacks on, “And an explanation as to why I had to call your name five fuckin’ times before you heard me.”
I roll my eyes. “I guess I’m just stuck in my head tonight,” I say as I take the cap off and slide the beer bottle toward him. “Want it on your tab, or are you actually gonna pay tonight?”
“Tab’s fine. I’ll settle up when you finally agree to go out with me.”
His smirk is flirty, and we do this song and dance all the time. If I wasn’t so worried about all the other women who ride his cock—I’ve heard the stories—I just might take him up on it. But as it stands, he’s not the type to commit, and I’m not the type to share.
“Might want to talk to Grady about that plan,” I tell him. “I’m pretty sure he’d rather you pay.”
Poker shrugs. “Grady and the club have an understanding. I ain’t worried.” He punctuates that with a wink.
And dammit if my panties don’t start to melt.
Several of Poker’s brothers trickle in throughout the rest of my shift, and I don’t get a chance to talk to him much more. That’s fine, though, because I’ve got other things to worry about.
Like how to make more money.
Again, I come back to the poker games. Surely, I could do something like that, even in a small town like Marble Falls, Texas. The problem is, I don’t want to be like my dad. If I were to run poker games, I’d do it differently.
“Last call!” Grady shouts sometime later.
By the time I’m heading home, my feet are killing me, but I’m not as worried about my future as I was earlier.
I’ve got a plan.