Page 100 of Heartless
Parking out front, I noticed a few motorcycles and muscle cars out in a side yard that had seen better days. They were cobwebbed and filthy, but some had to be in driving condition.
I pulled the front door open to a dark, smoke-filled bar. A middle-aged man with glasses wiped down the bar, while a much younger woman in ripped stockings, a miniskirt, and a cropped T-shirt stood on a stepladder to put away bottles. Lounging around in arm chairs and low couches scattered across the room, a few other women drank and talked. Service girls, naturally. A couple of whom looked pregnant.
“Welcome,” the man called jovially to me. “What’re you lookin’ for? A drink? A room? A good time? All three?”
“Uh, just a drink and a room,” I said, approaching the bar. “For a few nights, if that’s available.”
The woman next to him jumped down from her stepladder, whirling around to face me. She had dark makeup on and several piercings through her nose, lips, and eyebrows. “How’re you payin’?”
“Well, I saw your junkyard out front. I know basic vehicle maintenance if you’re looking to sell or get those running again.”
The woman elbowed the older man, who shot her an annoyed look.
I cleared my throat. “I’m, uh, also a tattoo artist. I’ll be happy to trade ink for room and board if that sounds fair.”
“Ooh, tattoos?” The woman’s eyebrows shot up, dark lips pulling into a smile. “Can you do any style?”
“Just about. I can show you flash art if you’d like.”
“Oh, yes! Doc, let him stay.” She put her elbows on the bar, cradling her face as she looked at the man. “You know I’ve been wanting to get some pretty sleeves.”
“Uh huh.” The guy pushed his glasses up his nose, taking another look at me. “You been in some fights, huh?” He gestured at my face.
Fuck. I’d forgotten to cover my scar with my hair. After Mariposa and I got closer, I fell out of the habit. She’d always push my hair aside to kiss me there anyway.
Don’t think about that. It’s over now. That chapter of your life is closed.
“None that I’ve started,” was how I chose to answer. “I’m not a violent person. I won’t bring any trouble to your establishment.”
It felt like a lie, considering the reason I was at this center in the first place. But this place looked well-stocked with alcohol, so chances were high I could drink myself into oblivion, where I wasn’t a danger to anyone.
The barman nodded at me, peering at me with more curiosity than the average person. “I believe you, son. Thing is, trouble tends to find us.”
“Oh, yeah?” The woman had poured a drink and slid it across the bar to me. I raised it to my lips without bothering to ask what it was. “Thank you.”
She winked at me. “Sure thing, handsome.”
The gesture and affectionate name felt odd. No one talked to me like that except Mari.
“‘Bout ten miles from here is one of those girls’ camps,” the man explained. “Where they train young females, children even, into being obedient and shit. Personally, I like my women with bite.” He reached over to slap the barwoman’s ass and she snarled, whirling around on him.
“Fuck off, dirty old man.”
“Anyway,” he continued. “We get a lot of runaways. Some of them stay and work. Most of them move on. And others,” he paused with a sigh, “their captors come lookin’ for ‘em, dragging them back kicking and screaming. It’s awful what they do to those girls and if they didn’t come in here all guns blazing, I’d tell ‘em to fuck off—”
“You’re asking me for protection,” I ventured.
“Well.” He shrugged. “You look like a guy that can handle yourself.”
I downed my drink, which turned out to be a cheap whiskey, mulling it over as I swallowed.
“I can handle traffickers trying to take women away,” I conceded. “But my stay will be temporary. What I can do is teach some weapons skills, show the women how to defend themselves.”
“So you’re running from something.” The barman’s stare was probing, unabashedly trying to figure me out.
No thanks, guy. I almost killed the last person who tried to understand me.
“That’s my offer.” I chose to ignore his remark. “In exchange for one week’s room and board.”
