Outfoxed (The Fox Witch #1) - R.J. Blain Page 0,26
the old goat could toss my way. Bounty hunters worried me a lot more than his ilk.
Men like Tom were all talk.
“Line up, ladies. Tom, you can start with Jade, and should you even think about being snide to any of them, you’ll be singing soprano for the rest of your life. Maybe I’ll dump what’s left of your acid-doused balls in a bottle of my best Scotch and put it on the top shelf as a reminder about what won’t happen in my establishment again.”
Maybe my tips would suck for the day, but some things were priceless, and I’d treasure the memory of Tom Harlan swallowing his pride for the sake of his balls for years to come.
Four
On days like today, I considered returning to the East.
Saturday, May 2, 2043.
Tulsa, Oklahoma.
The Alley.
* * *
It took Tom Harlan four hours to apologize to every woman in the bar. For whatever reason, likely fear of losing his family jewels to my boss’s wrath, he had decided to apologize for his every last sin to every single one of us.
His confessions left me wishing I’d gotten in a few good hits. After the first confession of rape, the atmosphere had changed to something so dark and foreboding the storms had nothing on McCoy’s. I longed to take my stick and beat the bastard to death, but I restrained myself.
Throughout the entire confession, which belonged in a church rather than a bar, I served the other patrons, and for the first time since working as a waitress, McCoy’s ran out of the best Scotches.
The other men enjoyed ordering shots of the good stuff, looking Tom in the eyes, and taking a drink in warning of what the asshole’s future might hold. Men who normally had a single shot and left downed several, our percentage of drunks skyrocketed, and I worried there’d be a brawl before the end of my shift.
Everyone behaved, likely because of my boss’s clear warning what would happen to the family jewels of anyone stupid enough to cross him.
Most didn’t take threats of violence all too seriously in Tulsa, not with Mother Nature’s constant murder attempts and temper tantrums, but Brent McCoy had reminded everyone he had limits, and they’d been hit.
Lora found the courage to come down on her own, and I pulled her aside long enough to tell her she’d be coming with me to self-defense courses courtesy of our boss. She kept her eyes dry and her chin up, but I recognized her fear despite her bravado.
She’d survive, assuming Mother Nature didn’t take her.
Regretting I couldn’t get her a ticket out of town, I focused on doing my job. The tips flowed better than expected, and I looked forward to being able to eat something good for a change rather than scavenging for whatever I could afford. Good fortune rarely lasted long for me, but I’d make the most of the good fortune I could.
On days like today, I considered returning to the East, accepting the bounty on my head, and letting fate do what it wished with me.
A future was better than no future, and I couldn’t fight inevitability forever. At the end, we all lost.
At the end of my shift, I shucked out of my apron and checked my pockets for tips, as I never counted them until my work ended. I preferred when nobody witnessed my disappointment. Most nights, I counted myself lucky if I earned ten extra dollars for rent or dinner.
We’d been so busy I hadn’t gotten a chance to snack in the kitchen.
Tom Harlan’s shameful behavior and abuse had earned me three hundred dollars, enough to change my life for the better for an entire month. I checked the bills and change several times, wondering how I’d gotten so much. Most had been paid out in single dollar bills, big enough tips that the tipper meant serious business and appreciated my efforts. No one had given me anything below a quarter, a first in my entire time as a waitress.
Lora and the other waitresses coming off shift joined me, and their pockets told similar tales.
“What’s even going on here?” I asked, stuffing my pockets full of my hard-earned cash.
Lora, despite her bad run in the morning, grinned at me. “Not everybody’s bad, and they’re making up for the ones who are. We work hard, and they know it.”
I hoped she never lost her ability to see the good in people despite Tulsa’s tendency to break any glass at risk of being