Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
She put on a black, short sleeved t-shirt and added matching eye liner. After stuffing her nearly empty backpack into a drawer, she locked her room door behind her and headed toward the bar. From the window of the motel’s lobby the woman who ran the place watched her as she smoked a menthol. She looked like Norman Bates’ mother- after she’d been stuffed. Daisy gave her a shit-eating grin and strode past. The parking lot of Maria’s was already filling up, and the sun hadn’t even gone down yet.
She grinned to herself as she reached for the front door. She didn’t mind hard work as long as she had something to show for it in the end.
The place was hopping and she quickly clocked in and tied her apron around her waist. She headed over to a group of what appeared to be one percenters and started gathering up their empties. A few of them tried to flirt with her, but she didn’t return the sentiment. There was no way she’d get involved with anyone on the wrong side of the law. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
On her way back to the bar, she spotted the redhead, Abby, walking toward her. She smiled. “Hey, there!” Daisy called out above the din.
Abby smiled back and took up a stool next to Milo.
“Vegas,” he grunted and eyed Daisy. Clearly, the thought of losing his fries was heavy on his mind.
“Milo,” Abby said dryly.
Maria didn’t wait for Abby’s order. She just plunked a martini down in front of the woman.
“Can you make it three olives?” Abby asked.
Maria sighed. “You didn’t eat today?”
Abby shrugged. “Too busy.”
“Woman, you own a restaurant!”
“Doesn’t mean I have time to eat there!” Abby shot back. “In fact owning a restaurant pretty much ensures that I’ll never have time to eat again.”
“You own a restaurant?” Daisy asked as she loaded up her tray again.
Abby nodded. “And a hotel.”
“Nice,” Daisy replied, duly impressed.
“The restaurant just opened. We’re still in the red on it, but it’s taking off.”
Daisy dropped off another round of drinks across the bar and mulled over Abby’s status as a hotel/restaurant owner. She didn’t seem much older than Daisy herself. She must be loaded, smart, or both, Daisy decided. On her way back she asked, “Why’re you called ‘Vegas’?”
Abby chewed the last olive and swallowed. “‘Cause I’m from there.”
“Wow. I’ve never met anyone from Vegas.”
“Have you ever been there?”
Daisy shook her head. “Nah. I’d like to, though. Sounds like a fun town.”
“It is,” Abby agreed. “Definitely.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know when I’ll ever go back though. I’d have to stay where no one knows who I am.”
Daisy smirked. “Are you a wanted woman?”
“Worse. An unwanted woman. I’m not welcome there.”
Daisy paused with a pitcher of beer in her hand. “What? Like the whole town is against you?” she snorted. “Sounds like me.”
“Where’re you from?”
“A tiny, little shithole called Delay in Nebraska. We’ve got a gas station, motel, diner, and grocery store. That’s about it, though.”
“Did they chase you out with pitchforks?”
Daisy laughed. “Nah. They’d never go to that much effort. They just give me the stink eye whenever they see me walking down the street. Tattoos and piercings don’t exactly jive with their wholesome, small town image. Most of them think I’m a-”
“Slut.”
Daisy craned her neck to look at a girl who looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place. She wasn’t Easy’s Crazy Not-Ex Girlfriend though, so she must have been one of her minions.
“Don’t start,” warned Maria. “She’ll probably kick your ass, too.”
Daisy didn’t know if this was carte blanche to wail on the girl, but she figured it might be. She wasn’t really in the mood to fight, but she wouldn’t back down from it, either.
“You just roll into town and screw every guy you see?” the minion asked.
“She hasn’t screwed me, yet!” Milo said halfway between gleeful and mournful.
Daisy shot him a look. “Hold your breath ‘til that happens, old man.”
“You know, Brenda’s finger’s broken after that stunt you pulled.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “I doubt it. She throws a weak-ass punch.”
“Well, her finger’s all swollen,” the minion insisted.
“So’s her god damn ego,” Daisy shot back. “He ain’t hers, leastways I didn’t see her name on him anywhere I looked.”
This was a bit disingenuous as Easy hadn’t taken any of his clothes off while they’d been going at it, but the minion hadn’t actually seen them. For all the minion knew, Daisy and Easy had been stripped down to their born glory and filming their own Tijuana Donkey Show. Daisy wasn’t above letting them think that.
“God, you’re a slut.”
Daisy huffed. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got? My mama can think up ten better insults before she’s had her morning coffee.” Daisy leaned forward and put her hands on the bar. “My skin’s not just inked up, honey. It’s armored, too. You’re going to have to do a shit ton better’n that.”