bonfire (wives, girlfriends, and whores included—but no kids), some bringing tents to spend the night on the site next to the lake, and within the first hour Dan was a noticeable piece of shit. Everyone laughed, egged him on, but Red preferred to sit it out, and instead opted to nurse his beer on a picnic bench by the edge of the dark lake.
"What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
Red raised his eyebrows at the unwelcome company, but eventually—begrudgingly—shifted down the picnic bench to make room. Sandy Perkis, a prostitute who had been following around the DBD gang for years now, plopped down beside him. She had a thermos stinking of rum in her hands, and there'd been a bit of a sway in her step as she approached. Like many of the women who hung around Red and his fellow bikers, Sandy was low-class, lowest level of the totem pole as it were. Usually she propositioned drunk men for her nightly fee, not the other way around. Short and squat, she had a pair of decent tits but no ass, and her mouth tended to get her into a lot of trouble.
As did her drug habit, which, out of the goodness of his bleeding heart, Red had helped her out with several times over the years. One incident included paying off her dealers, who were ready to slit her throat and throw her in the lake had Red not intervene. Ever since then, she'd been trying to get him in to bed, as a paying client or otherwise.
"Enjoying the night," he replied gruffly, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, beer bottle dangling loosely between his fingers. "You?"
"Thought you could use some company," she told him, and he stiffened when she touched his thigh. He held back what might have been a rude comment, and instead offered her a small smile.
"Lucky me."
"I'd say so," she chuckled after taking a long swig from her thermos. "You busy after all this?"
He looked away, eyes scanning the rowdy crowd. How to respond without coming off like a total asshole…
"Yup," he managed, not looking at her. She huffed as she leaned back against the tabletop, her drink sloshing on the bench as she crossed her arms.
"You know what, Red?" Sandy started, and he sensed her gearing up for a speech of some kind. "Guys beg me just for the time of day sometimes, and you should know…"
With some effort, Red turned her raspy voice into background noise. He nodded here and there as if he was listening, but another scene had stolen his attention. At the edge of the woods, separated from everyone else, Dan and Missy looked like they were in the thick of an argument. His eyes narrowed as he watched them, noting Dan's domineering posture and Missy's steadily deepening frown.
Then, out of nowhere, Dan backhanded her. The blow sent her lithe body stumbling into a nearby tree, where she remained, her mouth hanging open and a hand pressed to her cheek. Red's hands tightened around his beer bottle. Fuck that. He wasn't going to just sit here and watch that lunatic beat her. Everyone else was too scared to say something, but tonight was the night Red took a public stance against an abusive asshole.
"Yeah, yeah, sure thing, Sandy," he grunted as he stood and set his beer on the table. "Be right back."
He didn't wait for her response, because he was sure it would be riddled with indignation. Instead, he stalked right over to where Missy and Dan had been fighting, only to find that they'd gone their separate ways. Dan had wandered back to his boys and was in the midst of opening beer, laughing. Missy, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. Not around the bonfire, nor by the trucks and bikes. Movement caught his attention, a figure darting through the trees, and he quickly realized she'd fled into the forest.
Probably a smart move.
In that moment, he had to decide what he wanted to do: start a fight with Dan, who had back-up all around him, or go after a distraught Missy, who probably didn't want to talk. In the end, he
"What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
Red raised his eyebrows at the unwelcome company, but eventually—begrudgingly—shifted down the picnic bench to make room. Sandy Perkis, a prostitute who had been following around the DBD gang for years now, plopped down beside him. She had a thermos stinking of rum in her hands, and there'd been a bit of a sway in her step as she approached. Like many of the women who hung around Red and his fellow bikers, Sandy was low-class, lowest level of the totem pole as it were. Usually she propositioned drunk men for her nightly fee, not the other way around. Short and squat, she had a pair of decent tits but no ass, and her mouth tended to get her into a lot of trouble.
As did her drug habit, which, out of the goodness of his bleeding heart, Red had helped her out with several times over the years. One incident included paying off her dealers, who were ready to slit her throat and throw her in the lake had Red not intervene. Ever since then, she'd been trying to get him in to bed, as a paying client or otherwise.
"Enjoying the night," he replied gruffly, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, beer bottle dangling loosely between his fingers. "You?"
"Thought you could use some company," she told him, and he stiffened when she touched his thigh. He held back what might have been a rude comment, and instead offered her a small smile.
"Lucky me."
"I'd say so," she chuckled after taking a long swig from her thermos. "You busy after all this?"
He looked away, eyes scanning the rowdy crowd. How to respond without coming off like a total asshole…
"Yup," he managed, not looking at her. She huffed as she leaned back against the tabletop, her drink sloshing on the bench as she crossed her arms.
"You know what, Red?" Sandy started, and he sensed her gearing up for a speech of some kind. "Guys beg me just for the time of day sometimes, and you should know…"
With some effort, Red turned her raspy voice into background noise. He nodded here and there as if he was listening, but another scene had stolen his attention. At the edge of the woods, separated from everyone else, Dan and Missy looked like they were in the thick of an argument. His eyes narrowed as he watched them, noting Dan's domineering posture and Missy's steadily deepening frown.
Then, out of nowhere, Dan backhanded her. The blow sent her lithe body stumbling into a nearby tree, where she remained, her mouth hanging open and a hand pressed to her cheek. Red's hands tightened around his beer bottle. Fuck that. He wasn't going to just sit here and watch that lunatic beat her. Everyone else was too scared to say something, but tonight was the night Red took a public stance against an abusive asshole.
"Yeah, yeah, sure thing, Sandy," he grunted as he stood and set his beer on the table. "Be right back."
He didn't wait for her response, because he was sure it would be riddled with indignation. Instead, he stalked right over to where Missy and Dan had been fighting, only to find that they'd gone their separate ways. Dan had wandered back to his boys and was in the midst of opening beer, laughing. Missy, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. Not around the bonfire, nor by the trucks and bikes. Movement caught his attention, a figure darting through the trees, and he quickly realized she'd fled into the forest.
Probably a smart move.
In that moment, he had to decide what he wanted to do: start a fight with Dan, who had back-up all around him, or go after a distraught Missy, who probably didn't want to talk. In the end, he
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