The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen - Debra Kayn Page 0,45
give me a hand if things get too busy or a fight breaks out, and I'm occupied." He lowered his voice. "Are you twenty-one?"
"As of three weeks ago," she said, sitting taller on the stool.
He harrumphed. "You look younger."
Not to be discouraged, she reached over the counter and shook her new boss's hand. Then, she poured more ketchup on her plate and enjoyed the rest of her dinner.
Now that she had a job in Moses Lake, she could settle down.
She'd come back home.
Alone once again, she would depend on herself. Just like she had pre-Dutch.
Chapter 20
THE DEW ON THE GRASS soaked the toes of Marla's sneakers. Marla stood in front of the unlocked shed door. After six months of living at the house, she was determined not to let another day go by without finishing the last job on her list.
She set the broom and shovel against the outside of the shed and pulled on her rubber gloves.
Going inside was much more complicated than putting up with the nauseating odor she'd prepared for and expected. At one time, the shed was her haven away from all things bad and scary.
To go inside, she had to step into her past. A past she was determined to overcome.
She slowly opened the door. Holding her breath, she waited to see if anything would scurry out.
Her stomach rolled. The last time she'd gone inside the shed, she ran there, seeking safety. A place that would protect her from the truth—that her mom was dead. News that Dutch had given her and had expected her to accept.
She shivered, hoping the rodents had given up and found another home.
Grabbing the broom, she stepped inside, being careful where she planted her feet. She wielded the broom, striking out into the air, knocking down cobwebs. As she cleared the area in front of her, she concentrated on the low rafters, then the corners.
Once she was sure the spiders were out of the area above her head and on the ground, she hurried outside, walking into the middle of the yard. Inhaling deeply, she could still smell the decaying odor left over from her childhood. The scent probably clung to her nostrils.
Pacing back and forth, she talked herself into going back inside. The worst part of the job was still to come.
Last weekend, she'd dug a hole to the right of the shed and hoped it was big enough to dump the filth and debris in.
She raised her arm to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, remembering the germs and whatnot rotting away inside and stopped before she touched her face. She felt filthy and contaminated, and she'd only begun cleaning.
With tonight a workday at the pool hall, she forged forward with the shovel in hand. There was no easy way to clean the shed out but to remove everything on the dirt floor.
Four hours later, she dumped the shovel and broom by the back door and peeled off the dirty gloves, letting them fall to the ground. She'd worry about throwing them away on another day after she took a shower and scrubbed herself clean.
Stripping her body inside the house, she carried the filthy clothes straight to the garbage. She wouldn't miss them. They were old and not something she'd wear in public.
In the shower, the water ran cold before she could pull herself out. Glancing at her cell phone, she had enough time to get dressed and eat a sandwich before she needed to leave for work.
Surprised that cleaning out the shed had taken up most of the day and the whole time, she'd only thought of Dutch two or three times.
Chapter 21
FALCON WALKED INTO the pool hall. Marla stepped away from the tap behind the counter and retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. Since the first night of work, she'd always catered to the Moses Lake Chapter president, knowing exactly what he wanted each time he stopped in.
She grabbed a glass and hurried across the room, setting the bottle down in front of him. For some reason, Falcon always needed an unopened bottle, which he'd carry with him all night if he stayed.
It wasn't any of her business why he had the odd habit, and she knew better than to ask. Falcon went through at least fifteen bottles a month. Though he rarely finished a whole one.
She had her own assumptions. The main one being Falcon was paranoid and believed someone would poison him.
Since WAKOM Motorcycle Club owned the pool hall and used it