Page 7 of Shar: A Woman Alone

Walking out of my room, I lock the door and pop the key intomy jeans' back pocket. No way am I leaving my room door open for the club slutsto walk in and toss through my things. I’ve seen what happens in prison and Ican only imagine these women are as bad from what I’ve seen so far, and thestories Mia has told me.

What am I going to accomplish today? I’ve only a month hereso I’ve got to work efficiently so as not to waste any time. Walking into therec room has me curling my lip in disgust. The place is an absolute mess. Beerbottles, cans, empty glasses, trash, and even women’s clothing, if you can callit women’s, because from the size it could be a six-year-old girl’s clothing.

Shaking my head in disgust, I walk through to the kitchenand thankfully it’s still clean. I grin at a prospect who is asleep on a chairwith his head leaning back on the wall. He’s going to suffer for that, I’mthinking. Opening the fridge, I take out the makings for scrambled eggs, bacon,sausage, and hash browns from the freezer.

Placing everything on the counter I hear a snore, then asmacking noise, which has me turning and I can’t help the giggle when theprospect has woken himself up. Looking around and seeing me laughing, heblushes to his hair roots.

“I’m going to call you Snore,” I giggle, and he shakes hishead, but grins back at me. “Do you want a coffee?” I ask as I put the coffeemachine on for a fresh pot.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll just go…” He shakes his head and bustlesout of the kitchen, which has me giggling again because he obviously needs togo to the toilet and is too embarrassed to say.

Once I’ve the oven on and placed the bacon, hash browns andsausage on trays, I slide them into the oven and pour myself and Snore acoffee. I sip from the cup with my eyes closed, hum with delight at that firsttaste. It’s always the best drink of the day.

Crack walks into the kitchen and chuckles. “Enjoying thefirst coffee of the day, Shar? It’s ambrosia to our taste buds,” he states andgives me a lopsided grin.

“Morning, Crack. You’re awake early.” I hand him a cup ofcoffee.

“I’m always awake by 5:00, no idea why, if I’m honest. Nomatter what time I get to sleep the night before, I never sleep past thattime.” He takes the cup and inhales the aroma before placing it to his lips. Myeyes follow the movement before I notice the tip of his lips. Shit, I’ve beencaught staring. I shake my head and turn back to the stove where I get tomaking the scrambled eggs.

I look around when someone enters the kitchen and see Snorereturn. I grin, “You ready for some breakfast, Snore?” I ask.

He shakes his head at me, laughing. “I’m not going to livethat down, am I?”

“Nope, I don’t suppose you will,” I grin. Putting bread intothe four-slice toaster, I check and turn the bacon, hash browns, and sausageover in the oven, then pile the scrambled eggs into a bowl before covering itwith a tea towel. I need to make a pile of scrambled eggs, I’m thinking as Iknow how much Meat makes when he serves breakfast.

“Why are you calling him Snore? His name’s Danny,” Crackqueries.

“Well, when I came through this morning, he was asleep withhis head on the wall. Obviously, he’d passed out too tired to keep his eyesopen any longer.” I realize I could get him into trouble, so I point at Crack.“You don’t get him into trouble for that either, or I’ll make your life afreaking misery. Anyway, he woke himself up with a large snore, so I decidedI’d call him Snore from now on.”

“I actually like it,” Crack laughs, much to Snore’sembarrassment.

Once I’ve everything ready, I place all the food on servingplates and help myself to a small breakfast. I don’t like too much first thingin a morning but enough to line my stomach so mid-morning I don’t get thathungry, sick feeling.

Brothers walk into the kitchen, and I remain sitting eatingmy breakfast, but I grin as they start by sniffing and snatching a plate, whichthey pile with breakfast. I’m not sure I did enough when I see the size of someplates piled high, but I’m not here as a chef so I’m not going to stand cookingall day, although I love to cook.

Once I’ve eaten, I rinse my plate and place it into thedishwasher, then turn to Crack. “Make sure they rinse and put their plates inthe dishwasher, please. Maybe one of the club women can set it going and wipethe counters?”

Crack nods. “Yeah, they can. I’ll make sure of it. What haveyou planned this morning?”

“I thought I’d speak to Bank, your treasurer, and Pen, yoursecretary, to see if they have any information that would give me direction.”

“Okay. Let me come through with you.” Crack walks behind meas we leave the kitchen and walk into the rec room. I can’t help but thinksomeone is going to have a hard time cleaning up.

I jump when Crack shouts. “BEN, JOEL. Come and start cleanup, one of you in here and one in the kitchen.” Two prospects walk in from thekitchen and I’ve got to admit I didn’t notice them when I was in there a minuteago, but I had my head down on my breakfast. Crack continues. “CODY. Get thewomen out here to help. They can fucking sleep when the work's done, and theytouch nothing in the kitchen. They missed breakfast, and that’s on my orders.”

I keep quiet but have an inward grin, as you can bet yourlife they will whine and moan about having nothing to eat. Why they choose thelife they do is beyond my understanding. I’d never want to be passed aroundfrom one man to another, but each to their own, as the saying goes.

Crack walks me through to Pen’s office, and knocking on thedoor we enter when we hear him call out. “What do you want?” Once we’ve steppedinside Pen looks up and grins. “Sorry Shar, I thought it was one of theseassholes going to give me shit first thing in the morning.”

“I just wondered if I could have a minute with you thismorning. I have a couple of questions to ask.” I step further into his officeand he indicates I take a seat, which I do, and notice Crack stays near thedoor.

“How can I help?” Pen sits behind his desk and leans forwardwith his elbows and forearms resting, giving me his attention.

“Do you have any ideas of new businesses you would like todelve into?” I’m thinking about the couple of empty shops I saw on the mainstreet when we went to the grocery store.

“No. As you know we have the diner, the strip club, and wehave the ink shop. There’s a garage on the edge of town we put an offer on butnever heard back from him. Not sure old man Seaguard likes the club, thanks tohis granddaughter wanting to be a club whore.” Pen gives me a smile, which isreally only a tip on the corner of his mouth.

“Who’s his granddaughter?” I ask.

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