Silver Bastard(60)

Three hours later I had enough of the tiny purple berries to make a pie for Earl. With luck I’d get a bonus batch of muffins out of it, too. Just accomplishing something so simple made me feel better, and I even found myself singing along to my music when I showered before my shift. So what if I owed a scary biker an apology and my mom might get murdered any minute?

I’d have muffins for breakfast.

By nine that night, not even the thought of muffins helped, because the dickwads (and dickwaddettes) from the Northwoods Academy had plopped their asses down in my section at the Moose. So far as I could tell, the school was one big asshole factory.

“I thought they weren’t allowed off campus,” I hissed at Danielle, slamming my tray down on the bar next to her. She wasn’t on tonight, but she’d come in to give me moral support. Probably planned to give Blake more than that during his break, lucky boy. “Why the hell are they here again?”

“Hell if I know,” she replied, shrugging. “Just watch out for that blonde bitch with the diamonds. I busted ass keeping up with all their fucking orders the other night. One of the guys left a damned good tip, a fifty. She swapped it out for a twenty, pocketed the difference.”

I raised my brows. The “blonde bitch” looked like she was maybe eighteen years old, and the clothing she wore probably cost more than my car.

“You think she needs money?” I asked, intrigued.

“I could give a fuck—I earned that tip. If you get a chance, spit in her drink, will you?”

Laughing, I shrugged off her suggestion. I couldn’t afford to lose another job. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t spit in the bitch’s drink, of course. I would, first chance I got. Nobody fucks with my friends. I just didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing me agreeing with the suggestion. Good to know about the tip, too—I’d keep an eye on blondie.

Thirty bucks was half a tank of gas.

An hour later I’d decided spitting in the drinks wasn’t bad enough. I’d never met more entitled, wretched excuses for human beings. All of them. Well, almost all of them . . . Of the ten or so taking up two tables along the back wall, there was one who seemed aloof from the bullshit. He was the clear leader of the group, the obvious alpha. They were all trying to catch his attention, but he ignored them.

The guy was about my age, with darkish, floppy hair. I didn’t quite know just what made him different, aside from the aura of untouchability. He laughed and talked just like the others. He wore the same uniform of overpriced, designer clothes that looked like a movie star’s version of going country for the night, and he obviously took his wealth for granted.

I almost dismissed him with the rest . . .

His eyes scanned the room, though, always searching. I caught them on me more than once. Like he was studying what made me work, deep inside. I couldn’t tell if he was truly a rich boy out slumming or a very cleverly disguised predator.

Something about him reminded me of Puck.

Just what we needed around here—more scary people.

Things got busier as the night progressed. Teresa had brought in a live band for the night, and by eleven Danielle had grabbed her apron and started pitching in. When Teresa saw her I wondered if we’d get in trouble, but she just said, “Don’t forget to write down your hours . . .”

That’s about the time Boonie and Darcy showed up. Ten minutes later Puck arrived, along with Deep, Demon, and Carlie. I’d been looking for him all day, determined to apologize for what I’d said the night before. Now that he was really here, though, the thought of talking to him terrified me. Still, I had to do it, and the sooner the better. I set down my tray and intercepted the group as they crossed the room.

“Puck, do you have a minute?”

Puck ignored me completely. It was like I didn’t even exist. I wanted to hate him for that but I couldn’t really blame him—I’d called him a rapist, and that’s a pretty big deal no matter how you look at it. Deep and Demon followed Puck’s lead and walked past without a word. The worst, though, Carlie. She didn’t ignore me. Nope. She smiled at me, and in her eyes I saw pity.

She fucking pitied me.

Bitch.

Because God obviously hates me, Boonie and Darcy had already taken a table in my section, which meant I had to trail after Puck and his MC brothers like a fucking puppy to take their orders. Just how I was supposed to accomplish that confused me, what with the silent treatment and all. Boonie solved the problem by ordering a round for the entire table, and I found myself retreating back toward the bar.

“Bummer,” Danielle whispered as she passed by, having obviously watched our little show (along with everyone else in the bar, because the situation wasn’t awkward enough already, right?). “That’s harsh.”