Silver Bastard
Page 30

 Joanna Wylde

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Maybe that’s why Joe did nothing for me—he’d never hurt me.
So you’re fucked up, I reminded myself. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last. Let it go.
Teresa started out by giving us each a navy blue apron, which was the closest thing they had to a uniform. The first few hours were a whirlwind of trying to learn the new menu and computer system. Blake clocked in an hour later, and the fact that he knew most of it already helped a lot. Not only that, Danielle could turn any job fun. Good thing, too, because we had a full house.
The shift didn’t start to go south until around ten that night. By then, the dinner crowd was gone and the kitchen had shut down. Now we were settling in for the long haul with the night’s serious drinkers. That’s when a group of students from the Northwoods Academy showed up, obviously slumming.
I knew a little bit about the school because Earl had worked there as a groundskeeper for the last year. None of it was good. It’d been founded in the late ’90s, and the place was full of rich, spoiled brats who should’ve been in high school and college. They’d been sent “back to nature” by their wealthy parents as an alternative to jail time—nothing like paying off a judge to keep your record clean.
Of course, some just had families who wanted rid of them because they weren’t convenient. A few even had movie stars for parents, at least according to Earl. Whatever their reason for landing in Idaho, they were almost all unpleasant and entitled as fuck.
They’d gained a bad reputation around Callup for taking advantage of locals, too. Earl always told me to stay the hell away from them. I’d even heard stories of girls getting lured up there and raped. Were they true? No idea . . . I didn’t want to find out, either.
“They can’t be legal,” I said to Blake, eyeing the group. Thankfully they’d settled in Danielle’s section, so it wasn’t my job to card them. They looked like the kind of people who would bitch long and hard if their waitress asked for ID. “Why can’t we just throw them out?”
“We don’t know they aren’t legal,” he said, shrugging. “Think they take students through twenty-two up there. Online classes and shit—just depends on how desperate they are to avoid doing time. I’d take boarding school over a jail cell, too.”
“Are you going to card them?”
“Hell no. They have lots of money to spend and nowhere else to spend it. If we ever get questioned, we’ll just say we thought we checked them all. At least a few of them must have fakes. That’ll cover our asses. Remember, those little shits are rolling in it—tuition is a fuckload. We’ll make good tips and pretend we never saw them. Everyone wins.”
I nodded slowly, watching as they scoped out the dim interior, pointing out tables made from polished, split logs and the old mine safety signs ranging along the walls. Danielle seemed comfortable dealing with them, so I decided to watch my tables and mind my business.
Around ten thirty Joe showed up.
He sat his ass down by the bar, smiling at me as he exchanged greetings with Blake. Danielle threw me a knowing wink. Great, that’s just what I needed—my best friend in matchmaking mode.
Of course, if I ever wanted to be normal, I’d have to get over this weird obsession with Puck somehow. Maybe I could fake it with Joe, fake it until it turned real. Couldn’t hurt to try.
When I took my break at eleven, Joe caught my eye. I smiled, and he took my hand, leading me outside. We walked across the parking lot to the same unruly patch of grass overlooking the river I’d visited earlier. He climbed up onto the picnic table, then patted the spot next to him. We sat like that for a while, looking out across the darkened water, surrounded by the sound of crickets and frogs. It should’ve felt awkward but it didn’t. Being with Joe was relaxing. Comfortable. Pleasantly normal.
“You seem to be doing okay,” Joe said finally. “Like the new job?”
“Better than I thought I would. The tips are okay and the people are nice. I guess I expected it to be a lot crazier.” I considered my next words carefully, then decided it wouldn’t kill me to try opening up a little. “I grew up in a rough situation—lots of fighting and such. I thought it would be more like that, but so far it’s nowhere close.”
“The Moose can get ugly sometimes, but the bartenders keep an eye on things and Teresa’s got a shotgun she’s not afraid to pull out as needed. Mostly just the occasional dumbass getting stupid. I guess things turned ugly a few years back, during the contract disputes down at the Evans mine. They asked the Silver Bastards to come out and control things. Settled everyone down. The Moose is the heart of the community in some ways. It was before our time, but when they had the big fire at the Laughing Tess this was where everyone gathered to wait for news. Whole families slept right in the bar.”
I shuddered, thinking of the men who’d lost their lives deep underground.
“I could never do that—work in a mine,” I said softly. “Hate the idea of being trapped under all that dirt and rock. Does it ever scare you?”
“It’s not as bad as you’d think,” he replied. “Good money, enough to support a family. But I want out—no future underground, not with the way the business has been going. God knows how long the Tess will stay open.”
More silence, then he reached over and pulled me into his side.
“You have plans tomorrow?”
“School in the morning,” I replied. “Blake is giving me a ride.”