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Stephanie
MY OLDER SISTER, SUSAN, blew out a sigh. “What were you thinking, Stephanie?”
Laying on the couch, I stared at the ceiling. “I thought I knew what I was getting into. Seriously, Suze, it’s rare, and I mean rare, that quads get beaten by a damn straight flush.”
The lengthy pause on her end told me she was calling up her patience. “That isn’t the point, Stephie. You’re all alone out there and you blew your entire paycheck on a poker game!”
Strange thing about my bad beat was that losing the money didn’t bother me. Losing the money to Har bugged me. Of all the damn people, why him?
And why did I care?
“What are you gonna do for the next two weeks, Steph?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I got enough food for the week. Won’t be good food exactly, but I’ll survive. And I’ll have my tips each day, so, I can get by.”
“‘You’ll survive!’ I thought you were moving out there to make more money so you could dig out of the hole that asshole put you in.”
I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Believe me, neither do I. We’ve beaten that dead horse plenty! What if he finds you? If you need help, I’m eight hours away.”
I chuckled. “Like you could help me with that.”
Her sigh sounded almost like a groan. “What that asshole did put you in physical danger, Steph. What’s going to stop him from—”
“He’s not going to find me out here. Besides, it was two years ago. He got as much out of me as he could and he isn’t getting any more, Suze. I’ve frozen my credit, and taken every precaution I can to protect myself.”
“You don’t have the pictures, though,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes, wishing I could blink this problem away, but that was impossible. My live-in boyfriend of three years, Wycliffe, or at least that’s the name he’d used, had not only stolen my identity, he’d taken naked pictures of me without my knowledge or consent. Being the scum of the earth, he shared those photos far and wide, posting them to a ‘revenge pornography’ site. I didn’t know such a thing existed. And when he forwarded them to my boss, I lost my job.
To add to my problems, ‘Wycliffe’ then opened an online dating account in my name, listing my address and cell number. The account blew up since he used one of those naked pictures. I was forced to move from my apartment when a man responded to my ‘dating profile’ by showing up at my door.
The misery, the shame, and the violation knew no bounds.
And Suzy was right, I didn’t have the pictures. The problem was, even if I had the originals, there was no telling how many other pervs out there had downloaded the pics. Authorities could do little for me since Wycliffe had used a false identity (for three years!), and sadly, many authorities acted as if I let him take those pictures. If I didn’t sleep like the dead, maybe I’d have heard the sound of his phone taking the pictures or reacted to the flash, but I’ve always been a heavy sleeper. Facing people who looked at me like it was my fault added to the overall suck factor of the ordeal.
I opened my eyes. “No, I don’t have the originals, but like I told you before – even if I did, I don’t think it would help. I’m doing the best I can, Suzy.”
“I can send you money, if you need it.”
I shook my head. “No way, Suze. You pinch pennies to within an inch of their life, so you deserve every thing you work for and more.”
“So do you, honey.”
“Mom wouldn’t say that.”
“If she were still alive, I think she would say you deserve nothing but the best life has to offer.”
My eyebrow cocked because I did not believe any of that. Thinking about mom, I blurted, “Saw Sammy last night.”
“Sammy,” she whispered. Then, “You mean our former stepbrother?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. I thought he’d get out of Biloxi the first chance he got.”
“He’s part of the Riot MC.”
“What? I thought they were only in Jacksonville.”
I grinned. “Honey, they have multiple chapters. There’s one in Biloxi and he’s a member.”
Susan made a ‘hmph’ sound. “Well, how is he?”
“He’s all right I guess. We didn’t have time for a ton of chit-chat.”
“He still a husky guy or did he fill out?”
I chuckled. “Oh, he not only filled out but he’s seriously bulked-up, Suzy.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, his road name is Brute and based on how he hugged me, I’d say he’s stronger than his dad.”
“That’s saying something. Remember how stepdad used to throw that humongous tire around the backyard?”
I laughed. “Vaguely. I just remember how pissed he was when I painted it with my pink nail polish.”
“Not that it should’ve mattered,” Susan muttered.
“Good grief. Are you channeling Mom? She said something similar at the time.”
She made a humming noise before she asked, “What about that friend of Sam’s? They were practically joined at the hip...”
“Yeah. He’s still around.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there. Did you run into him too?”
I chuckled. “You could say that. My chip stack went to him and he didn’t even know who I was until Sammy showed up.”
“So, insult to injury.”
“Yep,” I said, grabbing my water for a sip.
“Geez. When you step in it, you really step in it, Stephie.”
“Thanks, sis.”
She chuckled. “But seriously. We’ve eaten more than our lifetime requirement of Ramen. I can...”
Her trailing off into silence lasted so long, I thought she hung up. “Are you there?”
“I’m here. I’ve ordered you some food. It’ll arrive tomorrow or the next day.”
“Suzy! I told you I didn’t need help.”
“And I told you, I could help you out. This works even better.”
I bit back my groan. “I’ll pay you back, Suze.”
“Don’t sweat it. You work tonight?”
“Yeah. The way my luck’s going, I’ll be at a tournament table and dealers split one huge tip instead of earning a tip with every hand.”
“Stop. Be positive, Stephie. At least you’ll have tip money, after tonight.”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“It’s better than nothing. So, on that note, I’ll let you go. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
***
Har
“WHAT ARE YOU GONNA do with your winnings from last night, man?” Brute asked from the open doorway of the garage bay.
Traffic flowed by steadily on Division Street. From the dimming sunlight outside the shop, Har suspected it was well after four in the afternoon.
Har continued buffing the bike he’d finished the day before.
“You wanna hit New Orleans? Go to a strip club over there... or we could find a woman willing—”
“No,” Har cut him off, throwing the chamois on the counter. “I told you. Sharing women was great when it happened, but I’m done, man. Need to find a woman of my own. As for those winnings, just gonna add ’em to my bankroll.”
Brute gave him a hard look, then turned away. Har thought that would be the end of it, but Brute turned back. “You’re not gonna find another Trixie.”
Har blew out a breath. “This isn’t your business, but I’m not looking for another Trixie. I start looking for a woman, I want one who gets it. A woman who fits.”
“‘Fits?’ As in, fits in?” Brute asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Not necessarily, because if that were the case, I’d be fine with a decent sweet-butt. I mean a woman who accepts my lifestyle and one where I bring something to her life.”
Brute shook his head. “You been watching talk shows or some shit? You sound like a chick, man.”
“You want my fist in your face, asshole?”
Brute held his hands up. “Nah, man. I’m just razzin’ you, Prez. Didn’t realize you’d gotten so serious all of a sudden.”
Har shook his head. “Not sudden. Trixie comin’ here and facing her shit storm over a year ago put things into perspective. She got what she wanted, and I’m thrilled for her. Problem is, I realized I want some of those same things.”
Brute’s head rose in a slow nod, his brown eyes probing. “Good to know, brother. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
Har fought rolling his eyes. “Not lookin’ for a club bunny, man.”
Brute nodded. “I get it. I spend time outside our clubhouse, so I’ll keep my eyes open.”
After a head shake, Har asked, “What are you doin’ here? Just want to spend my money instead of yours?”
The grimace crossing Brute’s face made Har pay closer attention. After a beat, Brute said, “No. Massive and Wreck ran into some problems with distribution.”
If he could go back in time, Har would tell himself to fight harder against Brink, their former president, and the rest of his brothers. Other Riot chapters stopped trading in drugs years ago, though not all for the same reasons. Now that marijuana was becoming big business it was harder to make money without moving into harder drugs like meth and coke. Distribution issues with their product were becoming more prevalent and more of a headache.
Making matters worse, the city of Biloxi had passed stronger zoning ordinances which would prevent the club from opening a gentlemen’s club which would bring in more revenue for them. Yet fewer ways for other brothers to earn money meant the resistance to get out of the drug trade was as fierce now as it was fifteen years ago.
“What kind of problems? Same as usual?”
Brute shook his head. “Wreck thinks these two were undercover.”
Har’s brows knit. “Really? Why?”
“Just a vibe he picked up,” Brute said with a head shake.
He glanced at the clock. It was five minutes after five o’clock, and he didn’t usually work Saturdays. Putting the chamois in a bin, Har hit the button to shut the garage door.
Brute nodded at the chopper. “That finally finished?”
“Yeah. I’ll call the owner Monday morning. Need you to tell the others there’s church in the morning.”
Brute groaned.
“Get over it, brother. Besides, you know I’m talking about a ten-thirty meeting.”
“Yeah, but that means I’m not heading to New Orleans tonight.”
Har’s hand rested on the light switch when a thought hit him. “You have contact info for Stephie?”
“Come again?”
“You heard me.”
“Got a phone number, but not sure if it’s still the one she uses. Why the fuck do you want it?”
Har met Brute’s irritated gaze. “Saw her bike before I went in the house, and obviously before I knew who she was. It’s a sweet ride with a sweeter paint job. I want to know who did it.”
“I’d rather know what it’ll take to get her off the damn thing. Not safe—”
“Don’t even, man. How many times did that argument work against you from your parents?”
Brute’s jaw clenched.
“She ain’t gonna be any different. Hell, she’s a woman, it’ll be even worse, you go tellin’ her she ain’t safe and shit.”
Brute shook his head. “You’re right. And you mentioned she’s living here now. I need to find out where. It’s been a long time since she’s been out here, as far as I know. Things are different.”
“Yeah. Be good you let her know about that, too.”
He and Brute had been friends since they were nine years old and he hadn’t forgotten how much Brute hated having two stepsisters when his dad remarried. Though, he never rubbed it in when Brute complained after they were gone. The love he had for Stephie and Susan snuck up on Brute. In Har’s experience, love did that more often than not. It snuck in at weird times.
The look on Brute’s face said he didn’t like Stephie being in town.
“And she lost her entire stack to you last night. What was that all about?”
Har arched a brow, but didn’t answer. And he wasn’t going to let Brute know that Stephie had signed over an entire paycheck to get in the game. That was what concerned Har. It wasn’t that she had no business at a poker table, it was that gambling with a paycheck indicated serious desperation.
What would drive a woman like Stephanie Combes to desperation?