Crazy Bitch started laughing at the woman as her car tore out of the parking lot.
“I take it you had a talk with her,” Killyama said, going to the soda machine. She reached under the flap, trying to snag herself a free drink after working the mechanism for a few minutes. With her orange soda in hand, she took a seat at one of the empty chairs.
Sex Piston nodded her head. “What are you doing here so early?”
Killyama shrugged. “I took a look in your appointment book to see her next appointment; thought I would have a talk with her. I should have known you would beat me to it,” she said glumly before taking a drink of her soda.
Crazy Bitch finished Mrs. Graver, taking the cape off. Sex Piston walked her happy customer to the door after the woman gave her a generous tip.
“Sorry about the show,” Sex Piston apologized, not really meaning it, but figured she better say something if she wanted to stay in business.
“Don’t be. I enjoyed every minute of it,” the older woman said in amusement. “See you next week.” The door closed behind her, leaving Sex Piston with no doubts that she would recount the entire confrontation to the group of women she was meeting for lunch.
“You put the fear of God in her?” Killyama asked, using her foot to swing the revolving chair.
“No. I put the fear of my foot up her ass in her,” Sex Piston responded. Her two friends laughed together.
Sex Piston felt the caring she had for her friends surround her in warmth. They had been friends since seventh grade and she shared a closer relationship with them than she did her own sister, Diamond.
She had changed a lot from that scared girl, but one thing she never took for granted was their friendship. No man could possibly be more loyal or protective of her than they were. Her mind shied away from the picture of Stud and his reminder to think about him today. No, Stud could never live up to the standard her crew had set, no man could.
Chapter Eleven
“Where’s she at? I’m hungry,” Fat Louise complained.
“Then order,” Sex Piston told her, taking a drink of her ice water. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw that Beth was ten minutes late.
Just as she was about to give in to her own hunger and order, she saw Beth and Lily walk through the diner door, frustration evident on both of their faces.
“I’m sorry. It took longer finishing up with one of my patients.” Her friend, who was exactly opposite of what someone would call a biker babe, was married to one of the members of The Last Riders’ motorcycle club. They had met when she had gone to visit her sister at a college near Jamestown.
“No problem,” she said, ignoring the tart looks from Killyama, Crazy Bitch and Fat Louise. T.A. had volunteered to give Fat Louise a break from Star so that she could join the girls for their monthly lunch.
The waitress, familiar with the group and seeing that everyone was there, came to take their orders. Beth blew her hair out of her face before finally relaxing back in her chair when she left.
“Why don’t you come by the shop next week and I’ll trim your hair for you?” Sex Piston offered.
“You know why. Razer doesn’t trust you near me with scissors in your hand,” Beth said with a grin.
Sex Piston couldn’t blame the badass biker. Beth’s hair was flaxen blond and smooth as silk. Her friend was beautiful and so was her sister, Lily, who was as dark as her sister was light, both in hair color and personality.
“So what have you been up to this week?” Beth asked.
“Nothing. Same old boring shit. Cuts and perms for the spring dance next week and everyone calling to make appointments ahead of time for prom. I always book up two months ahead,” Sex Piston said, casually studying the two sisters.
“I bet since you’re basically the best hairdresser in the state.”
Sex Piston refused to let pride in Beth’s compliment show on her face. Instead, she decided to be nosy and find out why Lily was looking depressed as if someone had hid her favorite vibrator.
“What’s got your panties tied in a knot?” she asked Lily.
“I get out for summer in May and I’m tired of looking for a summer job. Beth and Razer refuse to let me work at the factory for extra money,” Lily complained.
“Why not?” Sex Piston asked Beth.
Beth’s husband’s club owned a factory that produced and packaged survival equipment and supplies to disaster areas and doomsday preppers. It had been a lucrative business for the The Last Riders and Treepoint, the small town that it was located in, which was next to Jamestown.
“I don’t know. Beth is constantly talking about them needing more factory workers to keep up with the demand,” Lily said, casting her sister a pleading glance.