Page 13 of Ball Buster

Chapter six

Solo

This bitch is neurotic. Thinks my calling her babe is gross. Any other woman would be hanging off every word if I called her babe but not Vada. She’s hot and cold. I don’t know what to make of her feisty ass. One seconds she’s all sexy and cute the next she’s a raving lunatic telling me I’m gross.

“You’re giving me whiplash, woman.” I open the door to the bar, and she follows me inside.

“You don’t see a problem with us flirting and you checking me out back there at my car. And that little show you put on last night grabbing that chick’s ass because you knew I was watching. Then this morning you running in all hot and sexy with no shirt.”

“You think I’m hot and sexy.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then fucking get to the point. Fuck me.”

Her head whips back. “Don’t cuss me.”

“Jesus.” I rub a hand over my head and blow out a breath before steam blows out my damn ears. I’ve got a migraine and we’re not even halfway through the day. “I need a drink.”

“That reminds me.” She produces her wallet. “I owe you for my drink.”

“You’re a real piece of work.”

“Okay you’re not a morning person. Why don’t I get out my notepad and go around making a list of things that could use some TLC that aren’t expensive and some ideas that could maybe draw in more business and once you’re not Mr. Cranky Pants, we can sit down and converse like two grown ass adults who aren’t at each other’s throats every ten seconds. Deal?”

“Yeah sure.” I don’t tell her that we barely have the money to cover our asses the next couple of months. Was going to have to put up my land to buy her out and find me a new place to live, but hell maybe this can work if we get on the same damn page. I know the club would help me out if I asked, but I’m not a beggar. I know my brothers got my back when push comes to shove but this is my own little slice of heaven that my old man always dreamed of having. It’s a pride thing. Might sound dumb, but that’s the way of it. The kind of man that I am.

I do a once over the bar and I know it doesn’t look like much to some but it’s a place you can sit and drink your troubles away for a spell and no one pries into your business or gives you any shit.

I check the restock and make sure there’s money in the drawer to start the day. I have Wanda Jean tending bar during the day till it’s time for her to pick her grandkids up from school. She was close with Les, and I’d given her a few extra days off. She’s due back today and I don’t have the heart to tell her that if things don’t improve soon, I’m not gonna have a need for her. Which sucks because she’s been a damn good worker and covered my ass when I had club shit to handle or looking after Les on days he needed someone to sit with him so I could be present at the bar. Problem is she’s older and not much to look at. Know that sounds harsh, but men want someone sexy to take their minds off their problems even if its only long enough for someone to bat their lashes a little or give them a big smile while serving drinks. Hell, I think her and Les might have had a thing and that’s why she got the job to start. She doesn’t bring in customers but she’s loyal.

I stare at Vada with her short shorts looking all adorable walking around with her notebook, scribbling on the pages. Woman who looks like that could bring men in if she doesn’t open her mouth to bust their balls like she does with me.

The front door opens, and I hope it’s not Wanda Jean. The less hours she works the less I gotta pay her. Sounds terrible but that’s the shape we’re about to be in. I see that it’s only Dutch doing a delivery. Motherfucker delivers moonshine out of an ice cream truck. Something else I haven’t clued Vada in on is we sell Black Rebel Riders’ Moonshine here.

He lets out a whistle as he takes in the view of Vada leaning up on the jukebox pouring over the music selection. “See you got smart and dumped that old bird.” The second the words leave his lips Wanda Jean walks up right behind him.

I can tell by the pained expression distorting her face she heard him.

Her purple hair dye is fading and makes her look older and rougher than she is. The lines around her mouth are evidence of being a lifetime smoker. But the brother isn’t wrong. Would be smart to get a better-looking bartender. I should train Vada but the thought of her strutting around here in those shorts working for tips and men staring at her, thinking about her when they stroke one out or go home to their wives has me feeling some kind of way, I don’t care for one bit.

The idea of it all is ridiculous. We just met and I don’t get hung up on pussy no matter who it belongs to. Tapping her ass would come with strings. I don’t like strings attached to the women I fuck. Shit was different when I thought there was a chance of her running back to wherever she came from but the way she let it all hang out this morning she’s here to stay by the sound of it.

Guess we really are in the thick of this shit together and I’m going to have to be transparent with her.

“Mornin’.” Dutch looks to Wanda Jean, and she shoots him a dirty look.

“Came to tell you that my daughter and her husband are moving to the western side of the state for his job with the railroad and I’ll be going with them. You know they depend on me to help out with my grandbabies.”

“Hate to lose you, Wanda Jean.”

“I’m sure you do, but I think you’ll manage.” Her eyes cut to Vada as she struts toward us.

Fuck me she’s something when she works them hips in those fucking shorts as they ride up her thighs with every step. Think I’ll have to put it in the employee handbook she can’t wear these shorts to work just around the property on the ridge.

“Hi,” Vada greets our group.

“Wanda Jean this is Les’s Vada.”

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