Chapter 10 Merrick
MERRICK
As I serve up drinks Sunday night at the Leaky Skull, there’s one thing I know for sure.
I better stay away from the Wild Hair’s new house mouse.
I don’t like the way the club talks about her. I don’t like the way Betz has dressed her.
And I definitely don’t like the way I’m popping off half-cocked in front of the club whenever she’s around them. I don’t control what I say or what I do. I already got into one fight over her. I feel more coming on.
Fuck me. This is a shitshow.
The only Wild Hair at the Leaky Skull tonight is Fancy. He’s chatting up a couple of sorority girls who came to check out the place after seeing a video of it.
The social media stuff is working. I’ve hired a college student to run the accounts. They’re the only ones who know how to channel that crowd. I’m certainly not into it.
Vivi and her friends come in once a week and take new footage, striking poses and making sideways peace signs with their fingers. They giggle like middle school girls when they look at me. When I asked her about it, she said I give off “main character energy,” whatever that means.
They’re not that much younger than Marietta, but she’s got something grounded about her. I mean, she can be crazy, like flashing the bar and taking up pole dancing, but it’s easier to get to the substance. Maybe it’s the grad school. Or maybe those few years make a difference.
I spent that period of my life in Afghanistan, stomping through dust storms. I don’t regret it. But I’m certainly harder-edged because of the military service.
The bar is more or less quiet tonight. There’s that group of sorority girls, a handful of couples, two groups of random men, construction workers by the look of them, and Fancy. I don’t have a band here tonight, so the music is piped in, a punishing pulse of death metal.
Diesel is off with Symphony. He’s a regular college Joe, and they’re studying something. Naked, if I had my guess. You can tell them to get a room, but anything with a floor is a room to them.
I can’t imagine going back to school. I barely survived the twelve years I was forced to do it. But to choose it? Hell no.
I wonder if Fancy and Two-Shit are following Marietta to campus tomorrow. I got cut loose from the night shift now that she lives with the club, but she has classes until the end of the semester. I guess I could ask Fancy.
The sorority chicks have ditched him. He taps his glass for another pour.
I pull one and slide it across the bar. “No luck?”
“Nah. Talking to me was more of a dare than anything.”
I grunt. I don’t like that the new customers might screw around with the old ones. “I should go look at what that crew is posting about the bar.”
He takes a long drink and slams the pint glass down. “Don’t worry your head about it. The pretty young things dress this place up just fine.”
I grab the shot glasses they left behind and load them into the dishwasher below the bar. “All right.”
“You should snag one of them for yourself,” Fancy says. “Unless you’re secretly hung up on the mouse. I wouldn’t blame you.”
Now, this is exactly the sort of conversation I ought to avoid. “She seems to be settling in at the club.”
He nods. “But having to babysit her on campus is a right pain in the ass. I hope she gives up the cherry before too long.”
That answers my question. “What time is her class? I might be able to cover one or two.”
His eyebrows lift into the wild curls over his forehead. He’s got that mop of hair that is popular with the younger women. “Could you now?”
I shrug like it doesn’t matter either way. “Bar doesn’t open until three.”
“We’ll see how it plays out. I think someone will snag her pretty fast. I hear Hoss’s lady from last night already propositioned her.”
Of course, that woman mentioned her threesome idea to Hoss. She struck me as the type who likes to make trouble.
“Did she?” I pull out a jug of shelled nuts from beneath the bar and start filling bowls, even though that’s Jake’s job, and the bowls aren’t empty. It helps keep me from overreacting.
“Apparently not long after you left to open the bar, Hoss tried to lure her in the room using the chick as a way in, though I’m not sure what the fuck he thought he was doing, given Iron Jack had just brought the goddamn hammer down about the girl.
But that mouse isn’t so easy to trap. She got Betz to go with her, and you can imagine how well that went over. ”
I shake nuts into another bowl, trying to act like I don’t care too much about the story even though I can feel the anger rising in me. “What happened in the end?”
“Betz kicked the chick out of the clubhouse and said that since Hoss couldn’t be trusted with the mouse, he didn’t get a lock on his door anymore. She had Stoney take it off. He has to earn it back.”
Now, that was funny. “I bet he didn’t like that.”
“Hell, no. Every Wild Hair on the premises has been opening the door every time they walk by. He won’t get a lick of sleep tonight, I bet.”
Another reason not to live at the club. It’s a never-ending frat house.
I figure I better back off on the Marietta talk when the main door opens. I pick up the container of nuts to tuck away.
“And there she is,” Fancy says.
I almost lose my grip on the jug. Marietta’s here?
I shove the nuts in place and take my time looking up so I won’t seem too interested.
Chain and Two-Shit enter the bar with Marietta between them. Chain has his arm draped over her shoulders. Heat rises in me, and I fight the urge to jump the bar and knock his goddamn body parts off her.
Marietta is dressed even more provocatively than this morning. She has on a black bra covered by what was once a white T-shirt. Now, it’s slashed with vertical slits.
The ends are tucked into the bottom of her bra, leaving a long expanse of bare belly above the tiniest micro miniskirt that has ever existed.
It’s black denim, and the bottom is ragged, like it was cut even shorter than it started.
The whole thing, from the band cutting low across her hips to the strings hanging from the hem, is maybe eight inches.
The straps of the pink thong from this morning show above it.
“The prospect is looking,” Chain says with a laugh. “Mouse, show him the backside.”
Marietta glances at me for only a second, then turns around.
Fuck me. That skirt is so short that half her ass shows in the hot pink thong.
I glance around the bar, my face on fire. Everybody is looking. Of course, they are. It’s a seriously hot ass.
I keep my voice even as I say, “Hey.” I divert my eyes.
Chain drops onto a stool next to Fancy. “I got a turn dressing the mouse,” he says. “Betz said we could.”
“Did she?” Why the fuck would she do that? And why would Marietta agree?
But another quick look tells me that the wild child in her has come out again. That same gleam in her eye is there that made her flash the bar and pretend to Flashdance on my stage.
God help me.
“Sit on the bar next to me, Mouse,” Chain says. “I like looking at you.”
Marietta turns to me. “I should ask Merrick first? It’s his bar.”
Chain turns to me. “Can the mouse sit her pretty ass on your bar?”
“Sure.” I spin away to pull the pilsner Chain always orders.
When I return to set it in front of him, Marietta is sitting on the bar, the strings of her thong disappearing into her skirt right in front of me.
I’m so not looking at that. I turn to Two-Shit. “Beer or vodka tonight?”
Two-Shit grins. “I like a barkeep who knows my order. Beer.” He glances toward Marietta like he might sit next to her but thinks better of it. He heads to the other side of Fancy instead.
I pull his beer and scan the tables. Vicki is chatting up one of the tables of men. The other customers seem preoccupied.
There is no escape.
Marietta leans back, propped on her hands.
“Whatcha want to drink, little mouse?” Chain asks her.
“Hmm.” She swings her feet in pink stilettos.
Her long, lean belly is a serious distraction. I have to drag my gaze away.
“What do you think, Prospect?” she asks.
I focus on wiping down the edge of the ice trough. “I think you have class tomorrow, and you shouldn’t be hungover.”
Chain snorts. “Buzzkill. Get her a buttery nipple.”
“A what?” Marietta squeals.
Chain and Fancy laugh.
The fire in my chest gets stoked. “It’s a shot. Butterscotch schnapps and Irish crème.”
“Oh, okay,” Marietta says. “That sounds good. Should I have one? Or will it wreck my studies?”
Chain and Fancy snort, smacking each other’s arms like it’s the funniest thing a chick has ever said.
Fuck me. I am not fighting the Wild Hair tonight. “Sure.”
Unfortunately, there’s no room in a shot like that to make it weak. At least neither liquor is heavy duty. I pour one and pass it to her.
Her fingers brush against mine. “Thank you.”
My skin ignites with her touch. This combination of skimpy clothes and her clear naivety is killing me. I can’t figure her out. She’s in grad school, smarter than the whole Wild Hair put together, and here she is, letting people push her around.
Hell. I don’t know anything.
“Down it, baby,” Chain says. “It tastes best if you take it all in one go.” He elbows Fancy like he’s been clever with his double meaning.
Marietta lifts the shot. “Bottoms up, then!” She slams the drink, then sucks in a shocked breath. “That was sweet!”
“You like it?” Chain asks.
Her eyes light up. “Yes!”
He takes the empty glass from her and shoves it toward me. “Another.”
I’m not taking an order from him. Not in my own fucking bar. I drag the glass through the sudsy water in the sink before sticking it in the dishwasher. “Let’s give her a second to see how this one sits.”
“Naw, I want to see the mouse drunk,” Chain says. “It’ll be a riot.”
Not on my watch. I glare at him until Vicki strides up to the bar with her notepad. I’m more than happy to get away from this shitty scene to see what she needs.
It’s a mixed order of beer and highballs. I set to work on it, glad to be doing anything else other than looking at Marietta.
I focus on the liquors first, then take a set of pint glasses to the wall of taps to pull the beers.
I hear Marietta giggle. “That’s cold!” I pull myself together before I turn around.
And nearly drop all three glasses.
Marietta is lying on the bar. Chain has poured part of his beer into her belly button. He’s about to lean down to lick it off her when I slam the beers to the counter and reach for his shitty gray braids.
I yank him sideways, away from her, and growl into his ear. “You put any part of your goddamn body anywhere near hers in any capacity, and I will fucking cut off your balls.”
The old man looks at me for a moment, then he laughs.
“You were right, Fancy. The prospect isn’t going to let anybody near her.
” He drags a twenty out of his pocket and slaps it on the bar in front of Fancy.
“The real bet is whether he can keep his own hands off her before Iron Jack splits him down the middle.”
Fancy grins and shoves the twenty in his pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Chain laughs again. “Come on, Mouse. We’ll take you back.” He downs his beer. “Two-Shit, I need a witness to go with me. Can’t let anyone think I touched the mouse.” He glances at me. “Especially him.” He laughs again. “Cut off my balls. Right.”
I’ve played right into it.
Marietta sits up, her face scrunched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were going to trick you.”
I believe her. “Don’t worry about it.”
But she glances back at me as Two-Shit and Chain lead her out of the bar. She tugs on the skirt, trying to cover her backside.
They took away that happy gleam in her eye with their bullshit.
I’m not going to fucking let them do that to her either.