Page 4 of Hell's Kitten

Seeing as I was actively nursing my stout and trying not to get involved, the laugh I bark out possibly startles me more than either of them. Donna snaps her fingers my way all the same.

“What the big man said. The most anarchy you’re likely to get around here is fellas debating the merits of Hendrix over Zeppelin.”

“Dunno,” I say, catching her eye and feeling my mouth quirk. “It got pretty heated when some of the guys were comparing cupcake recipes the other week.”

Usually, I’m a man of few words. But O’Toole’s is like a second home to me since I moved to this little town a couple of years ago. I tend to stick to my café and my apartment above it. But my second love after my cats is my Harley, and there’s a surprising number of bikers that congregate here.

Officially, the group goes by the Cardinals after the state bird that can be found in abundance in these parts. But more often than not, people just refer to us as the bikers or the chapter. Some are queer like me and Donna. Some aren’t. They sure helpto keep away anyone who might be looking for trouble either way.

I’m protective of this pub. I don’t like the idea of anyone talking shit about it or the people who come here.

Chancey sighs again and shakes her head. “I know, I know,” she says. “I got eyes. I know you all. It’s bullshit. But you know how Mayor Durham is starting his reelection campaign, and I guess he just wants to make sure everything’s in order. He asked me personally to check the situation out, and now I have.” She sweeps her hand out, encompassing the few people in the pub tonight and bowing her head.

Donna hums disapprovingly as I grit my teeth. I’ve only seen Lyle Durham a couple of times, usually when he’s cutting a ribbon or kissing babies. But he came into Toe Beans once without warning me and made a big deal of ordering a coffee before petting a cat, all while making sure several cameras were capturing every moment. He flashed me a big smile briefly, but then when he was done, he walked out without a second glance, letting his aide pay for the coffee.

He gives me the creeps. I’m big enough and ugly enough that I’m rarely physically intimidated. But a guy like that with deep pockets and powerful friends scares the shit out of me. They don’t care about the little guy. They only want to get ahead, no matter who they have to step onto do it.

Donna frowns. “I thought Durham was running unopposed, wasn’t he? Why does he need to do anything at all?”

“Not anymore,” Chancey says. “Maurice Sanchez has thrown his hat in the ring.”

“The high school principal?” Donna asks.

“Former principal,” Chancey corrects. “He’s not very flashy, but he’s solid, dependable. A lot of folks know and trust him. I guess Durham wants to make a big song and dance about cutting down crime or something to keep their votes.”

“Anything I should be worrying about, Sheriff?” Donna asks as she folds her buff and tattooed arms. She’s got lines around her eyes as she narrows them, but anyone who mistakes her age for weakness instead of wisdom is an idiot.

Chancey shrugs. It’s interesting to me how both women are white and blonde, but Paula looks like she’d give you a hug if you skinned your knee, whereas Donna would probably make you knock back a shot of vodka and then get the hell on with it.

“Honestly?” the sheriff says. “I’m not sure. It could have been a genuine complaint. Let’s just say I’m going to see if we get any more anonymous tips over the next couple of weeks. If Durham’s trying to clean the town up, there are plenty of other places he could be looking that aren’t minority spaces.”

Some of the tension in my chest eases. This might be nothing. It might be the start of something bad. But it’s good to know that our sheriff isn’t one to be played, and that she has our backs.

The mayor and his rich boy club could do a lot of good in this rundown town. The reason I was able to buy my property and set up my business was because the real estate value is so low in these parts. Everything except the football stadium is practically falling apart. Word on the street is that the town is mostly owned by a guy called McKenna—one of Durham’s pals. But he sure seems to like snatching up opportunities from folks then just sitting on them.

It’s not my place to think about politics. I don’t care for it. They’re all crooked schmucks. I like to take care of my own corner of the world, and right now, that means getting the little bundle of fluff home before he can start wriggling too much and causing a fuss. He needs his dinner and so do I.

“Thank you for the heads-up, Paula,” Donna says as I take a final mouthful of Guinness, leaving the glass half-full as I stand.

Chancey smirks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dee. I just came to look for drugs and hookers. You lot have a nice night, now.”

Donna and I both watch as the sheriff walks out, tipping her hat to a couple of the guys who look her way from the pool table.

“What do you make of all that?” Donna asks me.

I shrug and grunt, flicking my eyes her way. “Not good,” I say simply.

I’m not a particularly optimistic person. The world is full of bad people who like to hurt others to make themselves feel powerful. There are plenty of good folks as well, don’t get me wrong. But in my experience, kindness has a way of getting punished.

Best to keep your head down and watch out for your own, I find. So that means that, yeah, I might find myself coming down to O’Toole’s a little more often over the next few weeks to watch out for trouble. If Durham knows what’s good for him, he won’t make a platform out of trampling on queer people. I’d like to think that in this day and age, that wouldn’t be the sort of thing that gets votes.

But I also own a TV, and I know that can beexactlythe kind of issue that wins bigots over.

Something tells me trouble is on its way.

I just hope it doesn’t fall right into my lap.

CHAPTER 3

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