8. Chapter 8
eight
C assie sat at the kitchen island, gazing fixedly at the basket of cinnamon-sugar topped muffins Rae had made from a mix the day before. She was about to reach for her third one of the morning, even though she was not even a little bit hungry. She was just… bored out of her mind.
December, and she still had no job.
Her workouts at Heavy Iron were the only thing she looked forward to, but she couldn’t very well hang out at the gym all day, even if she’d like to.
“Something wrong?” Rae asked, looking over from tucking an orange in her lunch bag. She was dressed for a day at her salon, chic and stylish in black jeans and sweater, with her hair up in a messy bun that was somehow perfect.
“I need to find a job,” Cassie groaned. “I thought Daniel-uh, my associate prof was going to help me, but … I don’t know what happened. He’s not answering any of my calls, or messages.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Someone who mentored you?”
Cassie flushed, reaching down to fiddle with the empty wrapper from her last muffin. “Kind of. He’s, uh, a friend too. Or he was.”
“Hmm. Someone you saw outside of school?”
Cassie darted the other woman a quick glance, but Rae was pouring creamer in her coffee. “Yeah. Yeah, we… dated a couple of times.” Which sounded squicky when she tried to explain it to someone else. Also, he’d pressed for more, a lot more, but Cassie had put him off, and then the term ended and she moved over here.
“Really?” Now RaeAnn raised her brows. “So he’s younger, hmm?”
“Oh, yeah, in his late twenties. Not like a dirty old man, or whatever.” Cassie hid her hot face behind her own coffee mug.
“Well, it’s too bad he’s not following through on his promises now,” Rae said, shaking her head. “Is there another instructor who could help?”
“Well,” Cassie said. “I do have letters of recommendation in my packet that I can take to interviews. But they don’t do any good if I can’t get interviews.”
“I see. Well, your AA is in merchandising, right? Have you thought about talking to my mother? Even if she’s not hiring, she may have contacts for you. And I saw you two chatting at the wedding.”
Cassie nearly choked on her coffee. “Uh, we were kind of arguing actually.
Rae shook her head. "Honey, that's just how Ellen works. The first thing you need to know about my mom is she's always right — in her mind. The second thing is while knowing that, you have to find a way to stick up for yourself. If you let her roll over you she'll never respect you. I had to learn that the hard way, believe me. Your dad has it nailed — he never loses his cool with her, just listens to her and then either agrees or disagrees, and goes about his business."
Cassie had to smile at this. "Well, that's daddy. He could sweet-talk anybody, right?"
RaeAnn gave her an odd look. "Honey, you are so much like him in that. I thought you realized."
Cassie set up a little straighter. "Huh? I mean… I like people, and they usually like me, but a lot of the time I think they're nuts."
RaeAnn threw back her head and laughed, a warm, throaty sound. "Oh, you got that right. But the thing is, you don't show it. Why at the reception, you had Darlene practically eating out of your hand… and she doesn’t like anybody."
"I kind of saw that about her," Cassie agreed. "I complimented her on her hair—that warmed her right up."
RaeAnn preened. "I may have had something to do with that. Just between you and me, it was a mess--so much damage from smoking and improper nutrition." She shuddered. "But, it's amazing what a good keratin treatment and better care products will do."
"Anyway," she went on briskly. "If you want to talk with Ellen, I happen to have an in with her. I can get you an appointment to see her." She winked at Cassie.
Cassie's heart beat a little faster, but then her shoulders slumped. "Also not sure Ellen appreciates my style. At the reception she basically told me that I picked the wrong bridesmaid dress, and after I changed, that my own clothes were a complete mistake too."
RayAnn's eyes got bigger as Cassie spoke. "She what?" She blinked rapidly, opened her mouth again and then closed it, taking a drink of her coffee.
Cassie's cheeks heated. "It's okay, you don’t have to be tactful. I know I'm kind of a fashion mess," she admitted glumly. "Like I said, I love clothes and accessories, but... I dunno, I choose something because I think it's cute and then realize I don't have anything that goes with it, and it's not really that great on me anyway." She sighed heavily and took a long drink of hot, creamy coffee.
"Well," RaeAnn said. "Don't let that get you down. Maybe all you need are a few tips — you know, what works for your coloring and body type. And maybe skip the impulse buys?" She winced as she said this last.
Cassie smiled crookedly. "You're right – especially about the impulse buys. I don't have the money to waste on those, anyway."
"I really like to shop," RaeAnn said, giving Cassie a look over her coffee mug.
Cassie returned the look, startled. "Are you offering to shop with me?"
RaeAnn nodded quickly. “That is, if you’d want me to. But if you don't, just say. I don't want to be the pushy stepmom."
Cassie laughed. "You? No worries on that. I guess I haven’t said enough times how thrilled I am that you and daddy are finally married."
Ray Anne's face softened and she gave Cassie a smile. "He makes me happy too, honey."
“At least when you don’t wanna smack him, right?” Cassie asked.
RaeAnn choked on her mouthful of coffee, and clapped a napkin to her mouth, but her eyes twinkled over it. “I’ll never tell,” she said when she could speak.
Cassie giggled into her own cup. “That’s fair.”
“Well, I best get myself to the salon,” RaeAnn said, looking at the cheery turquoise clock on the kitchen wall. “Ellen should be at her shop by 8:30. I’ll call her and get back to you right after, okay?”
“Okay. And thanks a bunch.”
RaeAnn widened her eyes. “Not sure you want to thank me, hon. But you can decide that for yourself.”
In a much better mood, Cassie finished her cereal and coffee, and hustled upstairs to try and put together a conservative yet flattering ensemble to wear to a job interview. Because even if Ellen didn’t want to hire her, someone would. There were hundreds of jobs out there, just waiting for her. She just had to find the right one.
Half an hour later, she’d finally found her one black skirt, short and stretchy, and a black-and-purple top that looked… well, not great, but at least okay with the skirt. And, hey, the purple kind of matched her hair.
She looked around at the pile of pants, tops and other garments discarded on the floor around her, and sighed. Ugh, this fashion stuff was so much easier when it was theoretical, as it had been in her classes.
And it wasn’t like fashion was her first choice in retail, anyway… or even in her top three choices.
Those were discount magnet stores–because shoppers loved them and they were here to stay; niche retail–unique, local shops where arts and crafts might rub elbows with local food specialties and wines; and home goods stores–yes, sue her, she was twenty-two and liked to cruise online for cool chairs and shit for the patio she’d have someday.
Oop, she needed shoes for her interview ensemble. She dove back into her closet, searching for the pair of black, platform booties she knew were in here somewhere. She emerged several moments later, flushed and damp with sweat, her hair in her eyes—but with the black booties clutched in her hand.
The front door slammed, and large teenage feet thundered up the stairs. “Anybody home?” Connor called.
“I am,” Cassie called back.
Connor appeared in her bedroom doorway. His eyes widened. “Whoa. Did, uh, your bureau explode, or something?”
“Very funny,” Cassie said, making a face at him. “FYI, I’m putting together an ensemble.”
He eyed the clothing laid out on her bed. “You going to a funeral, or swing night at the local retirement home?”
She sighed. No one like a teenage boy to sap a gal’s self-confidence. “Neither. Interviewing for jobs.”
He nodded wisely. “Gotcha. Adulting is tough, right?”
“You know it,” she agreed, staring at the mess on her bedroom floor. Okay, she’d pile everything on the bed, and then fold and sort from there.
Then her phone played the opening chords of ‘You Got Me’ by Sena, Rae’s ringtone. She vaulted over the pile of clothing, managed to grab her phone, her foot slipped on a jersey top, and she fell onto the bed, holding up her phone. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.
“Hi, sweetie,” RaeAnn said. “Listen, I’m so sorry—Ellen has already hired someone for that position at her store.”
Cassie’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Well, thanks for, uh, trying.”
“But listen,” Rae said briskly. “If you come to the salon now, I have time to give you a trim before my next client. Your hair is long enough we can give you a cute cut, even up the ends so you can curl it or blow it straight, whatever. Then you’ll be ready for your next interview. Interested?”
“Sure,” Cassie said, blinking back the tears. “I’ll—I’ll be right over.”
And an hour later, looking in the mirror at Iris Salon, her hair washed, trimmed and styled into a even swathe of blonde around her face and throat, she had to admit she looked much better.
Then, as she was standing by the front door of Iris Salon, saying goodbye to RaeAnn, her phone rang in her jeans pocket, and a text informed her she had an appointment for a job interview at a downtown store.
“What’s the name of the place?” RaeAnn asked, mystified when Cassie told her about it.
“Mamba Mama’s” Cassie repeated, wrinkling her nose. “It’s honestly kind of a nerd’s dream kinda place. They sell everything from used graphic novels to imported goods.”
“Where is it?”
“Downtown Spokane.” Which was where Cassie wanted to work and live ASAP. So that part was good, even if the job wasn’t her ideal.
It was at least headed in the right direction.
Cassie started as a sales associate at Mamba Mama's at the end of the first week of December.
The funky shop sold everything from artisan clothing to handmade pottery, all displayed haphazardly on the walls, counter-tops, and shelves. The place smelled of incense, herbs and the eucalyptus in a big jug by the cash register. And, unfortunately, of stale dust, as the owner clearly didn’t care much about upkeep. Her first day, Cassie quickly realized she’d overdressed. Her black sweater was covered in streaks of dust in just a few hours.
Her boss, Warren was an aging hippie whose entire wardrobe appeared to consist of old flannel shirts, rock-n-roll tees and baggy, faded jeans. He wore his thin gray hair in a straggly ponytail, and shaved once a week.
Cassie strongly suspected he consumed cannabis edibles with his lunch, because after he ate a bowl of instant ramen at his desk that first day, he put his feet up on his desk, and when she went back to ask him a question, he was leaned back in his old office chair, mouth open, snoring, an open bag of Cheetos on his chest.
But, when he woke up, he was amiable, and spent an hour chatting with a customer about the vintage comics in a locked case before the guy bought several, so she figured he knew what he was doing, and shrugged off his glassy eyes.
Wasn’t like she intended to work at Mamba Mama’s for long, anyway.
She was still looking for other, better jobs. Daniel Hancock had finally returned her texts, promising that during the college Christmas break, he’d have time to get in touch with his Spokane area contacts. And as soon as she found a new and better job, she’d be giving Warren her two weeks’ notice.
But while she was here, she did her best to increase business. She made use of her boss’ daily naptimes to straighten up the shop, doing things like moving the African woven baskets so they were next to pottery, and all the clothing was together.
She set up an Instagram account for the store, and got busy posting on it. Cute displays of a basket with a bowl and figurine, an alien with a David Bowie tee–shirt, a set of graphic novels in a basket, and more.
And she cleaned. She went through four refills of the plant-based mint cleaner spray she found in the back room. Under her ministrations, the place looked and smelled a whole lot fresher.
Warren didn’t seem to notice, but sales of the baskets, pottery and clothing went up, so she counted it as a win.
It was a thrill to receive her first paycheck. Not only did it mean money in her bank account, it meant she was closer to moving out of her dad’s place and being independent.
Since Cassie was at the gym at least four times a week--even sometimes first thing in the morning before work, although this was not her favorite so it happened only a few times--she saw a lot of Heavy.
And every time he greeted her with that special smile that said he was really glad to see her, she fell a little harder for him.
They talked, too. She was usually bubbling over with news or a funny post she'd seen online, and he always stopped what he was doing--unless he was working with a client, of course--to listen, and respond.
And sometimes he had news for her too, such as when his clientèle passed the one hundred mark, and then one hundred-fifty and so on. He thanked her when the gym’s Instagram account followers began to repost photos he took around the gym, and of himself with clients.
The day Heavy announced signing his three-hundredth client, she’d given him an impulsive hug, which he’d returned... although he’d let go and stepped back with disappointing swiftness.
Dizzy from being held in those powerful arms, and surrounded by his heat and clean, masculine scent, if only for an instant, Cassie had wandered off to do her workout with a sigh of happiness.
One evening, he chuckled at her purple fitness tights with silver reflective trim, which she wore with her Big Iron tee under a long black tank. He informed her that she looked like a cute little alien invading his gym. Cassie stuck her tongue out at him, but he was kinda right, because the tights were pretty wild. They'd been in the bargain bin at a local sporting goods store. When she realized belatedly that they emphasized her big butt, she'd added the baggy black tank, filched from her dad. Because while the tights were wild, they were also warm, and December in Eastern Washington was cold.
She spent her time on the treadmill planning how to tease Heavy in return. Not about his appearance, because that was ah-mazing. But she'd find something to razz him about.
And she did.
She informed him that his music choices sucked. She had to raise her voice to be heard over some rocker bawling about his hot mama. "You need to play less hard rock and more country."
Heavy, who was straightening loose weights and jump ropes, made a pained face at her. "Not a chance, girl. A lot of this new country sounds more like a bad combo of rap and pop—neither of which I wanna hear in my gym."
Cassie hopped on the sidebars of the treadmill and let the treadmill run without her, gasping in mock horror. "No way!"
She held up her left hand and counted on her fingers all the country artists who were taking it back to the roots. "Luke Combs, Cody Brown, Jelly Roll. And women—Elle King, Kelsea Ballerini and Ingrid Andress. Not to mention all the fantastic country groups! How ‘bout some Runaway June, or Florida Georgia Line? Hell, see if Muscle Road has an album out yet."
The Seattle-area band, who played driving country-rock, were growing in popularity.
Heavy merely grinned and shook his head. "It ain't happening, girl. Now go hit the weights. You need to work on your upper body too."
She loved that he could take her playful teasing and throw it right back at her. The next evening, During a rocking guitar solo on the sound system, Heavy caught her eye and mimed head-banging air guitar.
Cassie nearly fell off the stair-stepper, laughing. He moved to set his hands on the rails behind her, shaking his head. “Watch it now. No falling off the machines allowed.”
Taking a deep breath of his scent, she managed to breathlessly agree to be careful. Then she watched with regret as he walked away to check in with another client.
Such was their rapport, and the swelling of her hopes, that Cassie allowed herself to believe that he was feeling the same things she was feeling.
The 3rd Saturday in December was always the Rides for Kids charity event at the local motor speedway.
Every year since she turned eighteen and her dad had given her the Camry, Cassie had driven over to spend the weekend with her dad and Conner, and attend Rides for Kids.
The ticket prices were steep, but since the proceeds were used to buy Christmas gifts and clothing for local foster kids and homeless families, attendees paid up without complaint. In the afternoon, there was a full schedule of races for different classes of cars and for motorcycles, a custom cycle and vehicle show with cars and some pickups.
In the evening, a concert took place at the casino nearest the racetrack, the Spokane Winds Casino, owned and run by one of the local Native American tribes. The tribe donated the concert proceeds. The event always managed to pull in at least one big name in country music, and some of the best local bands.
This year, Cassie was excited, because the country-rock band Muscle Road was scheduled.
“And this year, the brothers are volunteering as gate security for the races and car show,” her dad told her with satisfaction over supper at The Hangar, the Friday evening of her first work week. The four of them were eating out to celebrate her job.
The Hangar Brewpub & Grill sat on the north side of the main road through Airway Heights. The brewpub was sided in corrugated white steel, with a deep blue metal roof. A neon sign towered in the parking lot, a silver, old-fashioned prop plane with the words 'The Hangar' arcing over the top in big red letters, and 'Brewpub & Grill' below in smaller red letters.
Since Pete Vanko owned and ran the place, to one side of the handicapped spaces in front of the building ran a low post-and-rail with a sign that read 'Motorcycle Parking Only'. When the pub was open, the spaces were usually full.
The interior was every bit as casual and comfortable as the outside promised, with lots of wood, a double row of red-upholstered booths in the front, and high-top tables throughout the middle.
The big, L-shaped room was divided by a waist-high railing, separating the restaurant from the bar area, which had more high-tops and a long, gleaming wood bar with a long row of taps and a soda fountain, in front of the mirrored back wall. Three pool tables filled a corner of the bar, where at present T-Bear, Moke, Bouncer and another guy Cassie didn’t know were shooting pool.
On the walls hung black and white photos of planes and motorcycles, photos of Devil's Flyers past and present.
The Hangar was at its heart a friendly place to have a meal or just a few drinks and relax. The kind of place that got louder later in the evening as the beer flowed, where a person could laugh out loud and holler at a sports team on one of the big screen TVs mounted up high, or sing along with the music, and no one would care unless their voice totally sucked, in which case they might get a crumpled napkin or a french fry tossed at them.
It smelled good too, of savory food with a hint of freshly poured beer.
Two waitresses worked the floor, one a lean redhead with colorful ink on one arm, the other a plump blonde with a big smile. Both wore snug, white tees with the Hangar logo on the front.
“Last year, a couple of bad fights broke out at the races,” Mac went on, “And some idiot got drunk and tried to drive off the car show lot in a classic hot-rod belonging to his ex-wife’s new man, damn near ran some folks down.”
“Bet you don’t have nearly as much trouble this year,” Con put in, around a bite of fries.
T-Bear, who had come over from the pool tables, shook his pool cue like a Highland warrior with a spear.
"Believe it, little bro,” he boomed. “One look at us on security, and the knot-heads will think twice before they start something. An’ if they do wanna make trouble, we’ll make sure they’re outta there so fast their pointy little heads will spin.”
Eying the big biker with amused caution, Cassie nodded. Even without a pool cue, T-Bear was a force to be reckoned with. Put the brothers at the event gates wearing their cuts and general air of ‘do not mess with us’, and most trouble would be over before it started.
Moke appeared at T’s elbow. “Pete says to stop wavin’ your stick. You’re gonna take out a hanging light, or scare his customers. Besides, it’s your shot.”
“Gotcha, I’m on it. Later, Carsons.” T lumbered away, and Moke gave them a solemn wink before following him.
“T is a goof,” Cassie said quietly, sharing a smiling look with Connor.
“Nailed that,” her dad muttered, picking up his cheeseburger. “Good man, though.”
RaeAnn dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Speaking of Rides for Kids, I’m volunteering in the concessions booth at the races on Saturday afternoon,” she told Cassie. “It’s fun, you want to help?”
Cassie grimaced. “I think I have to work. Warren’s nephew Nate usually works weekends, but Warren said something about him wanting to come to the races, so I’ll be stuck filling in for him.”
“They gonna pay you overtime?” Her dad cocked a brow at her.
“I’ll track it, daddy,” she said. “Also, I can buy my own concert ticket this year.”
Mac shook his head, his gaze warm. “You hold that thought–got you covered this year. In fact, turns out we have extra tickets to the concert. I get in free, since I’m working security. Con’s going with Amber and her older brother and sis. Anyone you wanna invite?”
Cassie frowned thoughtfully. “Are you guys working security for the concert too?”
“Oh, no. The casino has their own security team. Lotta money goes through that place.”
“Oh, good,” she breathed. In that case, she knew exactly who she wanted to invite to join her at the concert–Heavy.
Should she text, or call him? No, she’d stop by the gym. In person was best, even if it did make her regret eating the last half of that excellent burger, ‘cause her tummy was now jumping with nerves.
Cassie thanked her dad and Rae for supper, which had been delicious, and then headed for the women’s restrooms to freshen up. She took a moment to use a floss-pick on her teeth, checking for stray bits of food. She applied fresh raspberry lipgloss, fluffed her hair, and smiled hopefully at herself in the mirror.
“Here goes,” she whispered.
However, when she pulled into the parking lot at the gym, her stomach sank when she looked into the lighted interior of gym, and saw Jason on duty at the front desk. Was Heavy even here?
Yes! There was his Harley, pulled up over in the protected nook between three tall pines and the fenced in rectangle for the garbage and recycling dumpsters. She parked, and hurried into the gym.
"Hey, Cassie," the prospect said, giving her the crooked grin he obviously thought was irresistible to women. "How's my fave blond doin'?"
"Good, thanks," Cassie said, but she did not bother to smile back. She’d been around the prospect enough to know he’d take it as proof of his irresistibility to her, and she wanted nothing to do with him other than checking her in to Heavy Iron, and maybe serving her a drink at the clubhouse.
He said something else, but Cassie paid no attention. Because there was Heavy--he was here after all.
He stood off to one side, talking to a woman in a long, quilted coat. The brunette looked like she was ready to go clubbing, her hair and makeup perfect, and a tight top and slacks under the coat.
She was pretty enough, Cassie guessed, but she had a hard edge to her. Looked like she could turn mean, fast. And she was standing way too close to Heavy. But Heavy was holding a folder, using it to gesture as she spoke, so maybe the woman was a salesperson for those Fab Fitness, or whatever supplements Heavy now stocked.
Cassie hoped that was all.
At last Heavy came toward the desk. The moment he saw Cassie, his face creased in the smile she loved. Her heart sighed.
"Hey, girl," he greeted her. “You forgot your gym bag.”
"Nah, I stopped to see you," she said quickly. "The Rides for Kids concert. You want to come?" Then she waited, holding her breath, for his reply. Because what if he blew her off, or what if he said he was not up for an evening of country music even with rock-n-roll mixed in?
He put down the folder he was carrying, and set his hand on the top counter, right next to hers. His huge man-hand, knotted with muscle from the heavy weights he lifted, made hers look small and dainty. She remembered how his hands had enveloped hers when he danced with her at her dad and Rae’s wedding, how he’d swung her around so effortlessly, it’d been like she was floating. Mm-mm, she wanted him to do that again… and more. A lot more.
His pinky finger moved sideways, and tapped hers, breaking into her warm flush of memory.
"Hey," he said, a smile in his deep voice. "You with me here? I said yes to the concert. Wouldn't miss it."
Curling her hand into a fist to resist the urge to stroke his finger with her own, ‘cause that would just be weird, Cassie focused on his face again. Ooh, his dimple was out, just for her.
"Okay," she breathed. "Good. Um, meet you there?"
He nodded, his beautiful eyes twinkling. "Absolutely."
Cassie walked away, but she felt as if she was floating. Sweet baby Jesus, thank you.
She had a date with Heavy.
Heavy watched Cassie walk away. She always left him smiling--never failed.
He’d never gotten it when songwriters went on about someone being their ‘sunshine’, but damned if she wasn’t like a ray of brightness, leaving warmth wherever she touched.
She was always just so… eager for life. Give her something to do, and she wanted to do it now, and do it just right. Tell her something interesting or funny, and those blue eyes would light up so fast you could almost see the synapses firing, before she either cracked up laughing that husky laugh, or started asking questions, or arguing. And he honestly did not know which of these was his favorite. Maybe all three.
She was gonna make some asshole a lucky man someday. And he best treat her right, or Heavy would know the reason why.
Britt appeared at his elbow. "Another one of your little fans?" she asked, smirking.
“Huh?” Heavy jerked his attention away from the little blonde already sliding into her car outside. "Nah, her dad’s in my club. She just wanted to know if I was going to the charity concert this weekend. I am."
"Oh?" Britt tipped her head and batted her fake lashes at him. "And..."
"And what?" He wished she would just say what she meant once in a while.
She gave him a look. "And are you going to ask me to go with you?"
Oh. "Sure, if you want to come. Most of my club will be there. Should be a good show, if you like country music."
She made a face, and he chuckled. "Nah, these guys are good. And they play more country rock than straight country, or I wouldn’t be going myself."
"Well since you asked me so nicely," she teased, "it's a date. And then, afterward, you can reward me." The sultry look in her eyes left no doubt what she meant by this.
Oh, yeah, this was why he put up with her more irritating habits. He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby and answered, his voice low. "Only if you’re a real good girl."
"But being bad is so much more fun," she pouted, sliding her hand down the front of his torso.
He grabbed her hand, since his gym was a family-friendly establishment. But he was chuckling as he did so, because he was, after all, a Devil’s Flyer.
And she was right, being bad was more fun.
On Saturday evening, Cassie drove home from work only a little over the speed limit, and rushed to get ready to meet Heavy at the concert. She'd been able to think of little else all day–hell, all week.
She hadn't seen much of him, though—she'd come down with a nasty head cold on Tuesday and spent the next three days dosing herself with cold medicine and praying to get better by Saturday.
She had, thank God. And now it was time to get herself ready and to the casino to meet her date. The date she hoped with all her heart would be just the first of many.
She showered, dried and styled her hair. It was now long enough to work into twisty ringlets with a narrow curling iron. She gazed at herself doubtfully in the mirror. Did the silky curls make her look chic and up-to-date… or more like her 4-year-old self, ready for preschool?
She was gonna think positive, and go with chic.
She donned dangling earrings that look like little silver waterfalls, a red and white flowered gauze top over a green tank, because Christmas, and her favorite jeans. Shoving her feet into a pair of black, heeled, cowgirl boots she'd had for years and hadn't worn since she went to a rodeo in the Tri-Cities, she quickly applied red lip gloss and mascara. She picked up her powder blush and then put it down again, shaking her head. Nope. She was crap at applying blush. She'd probably end up looking like a kid who got into mommy's makeup kit.
Spritzing on her favorite perfume she grabbed her purse and black coat, which was unfortunately old and looked it, but she'd take it off when she got to the casino so Heavy wouldn't see it anyway.
She had texted him that afternoon, unable to resist. She kept it simple, 'See you there. Can't wait. Cassie.' She'd nearly added a heart emoji, but clicked on the smile instead, and hit send.
Now, as she drove toward the bright lights of the casino through the cold, but luckily dry winter night, she tried not to worry that Heavy hadn't texted her back. He'd accepted the date with her, so everything was fine.
And she'd see him in a little bit and they would laugh and talk and dance and it would be great.
The casino parking lot was jammed. Cassie found a parking spot near the front only by pure luck, there when another car pulled out. She zipped in, turned the car off, grabbed her little purse and hooked it over her head and one shoulder, checked her lipgloss in the mirror, then hopped out and headed into the casino.
Inside people milled around the huge lobby, around a massive sculpture depicting a Native American standing with arms upraised to the sky, long hair whipping back in an unseen wind.
The statue was gorgeous, and so was the décor, seemingly alive with beautifully intricate Native American symbols and colorful artwork. Eagles, bison and bears, wolves, hawks and mountain lions stalked and soared over the walls along with warriors and women, both on foot and on horseback.
Sometime she’d come back and just admire. But right now Cassie had one thing on her mind, finding Heavy. At least he was tall. He would stand head above most of the people here.
The lobby was getting more crowded all the time. Typical of a country music concert, people wore everything from blue jeans and boots to fancy Western wear along with plenty of leather jackets and vests.
"Hey, Cassie!"
She whirled, her heart missing a beat. But it was Drew who stood smiling down at her.
She swallowed her disappointment and gave him a big smile. "Hey, yourself," she said, raising her voice over the hubbub. "Didn't know you were coming."
"Same here," he replied, leaning down to speak into her ear. "But good to see you. Since I started work at the auto shop in west Spokane, I don't see as much of everyone. Heard you got a job, too."
She nodded. "I did.” She told him about it, and they chatted for a few moments about working.
"I see plenty of Flyers here," he said looking around from his superior height.
"Do you see Heavy anywhere?" she asked eagerly.
Drew surveyed the big space, and then nodded. "Yeah, I do. He's just coming in the front door.”
Cassie moved to dart through the crowd, but Drew held her back with a hand on her arm. He shook his head at her. “Girl, stay here. You'll get trampled by this crowd. They’re really piling in. You wanna talk to Heavy, wait till he gets near."
He was right. The press of people in the lobby was getting a bit unnerving, especially for someone her height. So Cassie waited at his side, vibrating with impatience.
She bounced up on her tippy-toes. And finally, there was Heavy, making his way through the crowd toward her.
Oh Lordy, he made all the other men in the place just fade away next to him.
She raised an arm high and waved eagerly. He saw her and grinned, although instead of waving back he gave her a chin lift of acknowledgment. Bikers being too cool to wave.
She laughed with sheer excitement.
But then, when they were still several feet away, a path somehow appeared in the crush of people.
Which was when Cassie saw the woman at Heavy’s side. Clinging to his arm with both of hers, and smiling in the smug way a woman did when she knew she was with the hottest guy in the place.
It was the brunette. The skinny, pretty but hard-faced one Cassie had seen standing so close when speaking with Heavy at his gym. Around Cassie, time slowed, the crowd and all their noise fading into a dull roar that pulsed in time with her heart, beating in slow, painful thuds.
Because the couples’ body language said clearly that they were together. Not as in, they'd run into each other in the parking lot and decided to walk in together, but together as in, on a date.
Heavy was on a date... but not with her, Cassie. With another woman. A woman who was the opposite of Cassie in every way—tall, sleek, slim, uber-fit and self-assured.
Cassie’s brain struggled to work, to take in what was happening. So… somehow, when she’d invited him, he’d… misunderstood? He must have thought she just wanted to know if he would be here. Because he was a tease, but he wasn’t that kind of tease, the kind of guy who’d accept her invite and then just drop her for a better offer… was he?
Heavy and Drew greeted each other with a handshake and a slap on the shoulder but their deep voices echoed around Cassie as if she were encased in a sheet of ice, and they were outside of it.
Cold, she felt so cold. Should have left her coat on instead of carrying it over her arm, she thought dazedly. Then she’d be warm.
"Cassie," Heavy said, his tone indicating he'd already said her name once, and was amused but also concerned that she wasn't answering him.
He dipped his knees and peered into her eyes from under his heavy brows, his dimple appearing as he grinned at her. "Hey, girl, we made it. I'm ready to listen to some country--want you to know I expect points for that."
"Ha ha ha," she managed, although it sounded forced even to herself.
Heavy’s date moved, leaning into him even more and upping the wattage on her smile. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, baby?" she asked in a voice so sultry she sounded like a freakin’ porn star.
"Sure," he said. "Britt , this is Cassie and Drew. Both Flyer family."
Britt gave Drew a look and a smile and then turned her attention to Cassie, her gaze going patronizing in a way that only another woman would catch. "Of course," she drawled. "You work out at Marcus’ fitness center. Keep it up, you'll see positive changes soon."
Cassie blinked as this shaft struck home. It wasn't enough that the bitch had stolen Cassie's date... she was putting her down in front of him, too?
This was the kind of woman Heavy had chosen over her?
Here, Cassie should have looked to Heavy to see his reaction. But she didn’t, so she missed the black look he gave the woman. Cassie also didn’t bother to answer, because honestly the bitch didn't deserve one. Also, she was done with this situation.
Instead, Cassie turned and looked up to Drew. "Hey, Drew, you ready to go in and find a spot where we can listen and maybe dance?" she asked.
"Yeah, you to go on in," Heavy encouraged. "We’re gonna get something to drink first."
"So are we," Cassie said gaily, grabbing Drew's arm and turning away even as she spoke. "I'm up for shots. How about you, Drew?"
"Drew," Heavy said, his voice deep and full of some kind of warning.
Drew turned and looked back, but Cassie did not. None of her business what Heavy had to say, not anymore. And it was none of his business what she did.
The rest of the concert passed in a haze of loud music and shots, although not as many of these as Cassie wanted, because Drew kept putting a glass of water in her hand instead of the shot she'd ordered.
“I’m an adult, y’know,” she said to him at one point.
“You’re also my friend, and you’re not very big,” he told her, his gaze earnest. “Unless you wanna get some food to go with, you gotta pace yourself.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Quit being so… sweet,” she told him.
He grinned at her, and went back to enjoying the concert.
And even without alcohol, she could lose herself for at least short periods of time in the music and even dance along with Drew and the other concert-goers energetic enough to get up and shake it to the raucous rhythms of Muscle Road. They were that good
But after a while, the icy pain overwhelmed her of knowing that Heavy was right there at the concert, with another woman, and would no doubt be taking her home with him afterward. Her head begin to ache ferociously, and her chest and throat felt as if a year’s worth of tears were dammed up there, ready to burst free.
As the next song ended with a flourish of drums and roar of applause, she tapped Drew's arm. "Thanks for hanging out with me," she told him. "I'm gonna head out."
He looked down at her, concern clear on his handsome face. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she told him. "And yes, I'm sober now. Just got a headache. I think my cold is back."
He grimaced. "Sorry to hear that. I had that a couple of weeks ago, it was vicious. Come on, I'll walk you out."
She shook her head and then regretted it, as the motion sent pain shooting through her temples. "No, I'll be fine."
He leaned down and looked her in the eye. "Cassie, I'll walk you out."
Having grown up with the Flyers, Cassie knew that when one of the guys spoke in that tone of voice, there was no arguing. "Okay."
They made their way through the crowd and out into the frozen night. It was starting to snow, the flakes just beginning to stick to the frozen ground.
"You have far to drive?" Drew asked.
"Just to my dad's," she told him. She was so tired, and so cold. She just wanted to get home and pull her covers over her head... maybe for a month or so.
"Okay. Drive safe."
Drew unlocked her car, and then once she was in, he held the door for her, and leaned down, his expression soft.
“Hey, Cass. Sorry you’re feeling down. But you gotta know he won’t stick with her. And you’re worth ten of her phony ass.”
Cassie looked up at him in shock, and he grinned crookedly at her. “Of course if you tell anyone I bad-mouthed Heavy’s date, I’ll deny it to my dying breath. Now drive safe, yeah? And text me when you’re home?”
She nodded dumbly, and he closed her car door, then stood on the curb, his shoulders hunched against the cold as she backed out and then drove away.