It was open around the clock, one of the few places in Tulsa that wasn’t McDonald’s or Taco Bell where you could get some tasty greasy food at the end of a rowdy night out or the start of a rough morning after one. Marcella knew it well, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen the place in the daylight—the kind of daylight you got when you’d been out all night didn’t count.
Stone cold sober and not in the mood to party, Marcella almost felt disoriented as she slid into a booth still damp from the server’s wet bar towel. The clientele here at nearly noon was a lot different from the sloppy-drunk dudes and makeup-smeared chicks shoveling grease into their maws several hours after midnight. The tables now were filled with laborers and other uniform-type workers on their lunch breaks.
A young woman in jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt with the Hal’s logo came up and put pen to her order pad. “What can I get ya?”
“Just coffee, please, for now.”
With a moue of disappointment she didn’t try to hide, the server nodded. “Comin’ right up.”
Marcella had done her time with an order pad, so she understood the disappointment in coming up on a full booth with a single customer in it and discovering that customer only wanted coffee. She’d leave a tip that made up for it.
When her coffee arrived, Marcella sat back, facing the door, and kept track of the time.
~oOo~
Eight walked in with three minutes to spare. Just inside the door, he took off his Oakleys and scanned the restaurant.
He wore black cowboy boots, jeans faded almost to white, and a well-worn red plaid flannel shirt, open enough to show a black t-shirt under it. And, of course, his black leather kutte. The jeans strained over his thighs, the shirt strained across his arms and chest. He was like six-three and probably pushed two-fifty, none of it fat.
Everything about the man said APPROACH AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Marcella watched him, hating that little piece of her that still wanted to jump his bones. Fuck her horrific taste in men. Before Ajax, her love life had been a series of losers, assholes, and stone-cold sons of bitches, all of whom had been brawny, ugly-beautiful guys she couldn’t seem to break her habit for.
Since Ajax, Dash, conventionally attractive and not beefy, had been the only guy she’d had anything approaching a relationship with. Every other encounter had been of the body-temp dildo variety, when she had a kid-free night, or could find a quiet spot backstage.
It had been a minute since she’d had a body-temp dildo, so maybe that was why she still felt that down-low ache seeing Eight Ball, for whom her prevailing emotion was contempt.
He saw her, headed over, and slid into the booth facing her. Then he said, “Hey.”
“Hello.”
Before either could add to that riveting opening, the server came back, grinning brightly, already with a fresh diner-style coffee mug and a full carafe. “Hey, Eight!” She set the cup down before him and began to pour.
Eight gave her the grin he used for women he considered fuckable. “Hey, Tabby. How you doin’?”
“Oh, fine. You know, same old grind. You want anything to eat?”
“Yeah, yeah. Get me a triple decker with rings. And leave the coffee. Long night.”
“Sure thing!” She set the carafe on the table and turned to Marcella. “You ready to order, too?”
The thought of sitting here sharing a meal with Eight, as if this were a date or even a friendly lunch, made her sick, so she shook her head. “The coffee is enough for me.”
Tabby shrugged. “Suit yourself.” To Eight, she smiled and said, “I’ll have your burger out in a jiff.”
“Thanks, sweet cheeks.”
Apparently, Tabby considered that a compliment. Her cheeks pinked up, and when she walked away, her hips rocked like she was doing the stroll down 11th Street. All her cheeks were sweet, apparently.
Eight could fucking tip her.
Jesus, was shejealous? No, that was crazy. She couldn’t stand Eight, she was angry with him, she didn’t want to be here sitting across from him, and she didn’t like any indication that he was enjoying himself. That was it.
He blew over his mug and then took a huge swallow, wincing as the scalding liquid went down his throat. Setting the mug down, he said, “So let’s talk.”
For her, he had no smile. She preferred it that way.
“Ajax wants to know why you want to see him.”