Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Chapter 5
A week went by with Chris occasionally seeing Hayley as she was headed out the door for work. A trek that seemed much easier now that she didn't have to schlep her bag with her everywhere. On Monday night she'd actually knocked on his door and he was needless to say more than a little surprised to see her there.
She'd sheepishly told him that she'd forgotten to get butter at the store and was now in the middle of making dinner and finding herself needing it. If she'd been any other woman, Chris would have grinned his "I see what this is" grin and let her in to shoot the shit (and neither of them would have remembered about butter).
But apparently...Hayley just needed butter. And he'd said he could understand that she'd forgotten to get some considering she was starting from scratch building her pantry and stocking her fridge. She'd come over again midweek for sugar, and a third time for red pepper.
She'd apologized profusely each time, promising to pay him back, but he'd laughed and told her he really didn't care about sugar, pepper, and butter and since he was a shit cook anyway. He told her that as far as he was concerned, she could have whatever was in his kitchen. She'd looked at him funny, thanked him again, and left. And as she closed his front door, Chris got pissed. So pissed that he nearly put his hand through a wall. So pissed that he did slam a plate down into the sink and it shattered, causing him to spend several minutes digging the shards and splinters out of the drain.
Now it was Thursday night and it was his turn to host the weekly Poker Game. Chris had stayed late at the garage and barely had enough time to order the pizzas and shower before the guys started showing up. Hawk had driven his truck this time and brought the beer, immediately putting it into the fridge when he entered the house.
Chris paid the delivery boy and laid the pizza boxes out on the island, tossing some paper plates down next to them. Tex and Doc arrived at nearly the same time, diving straight for the pepperoni. Everyone leaned up against the counter, devouring their slices and waiting for the beer to get cold.
Chris looked at Doc. “You know the hag running the Rainbow?”
Doc grimaced. “Heard of her. Never met her myself. Looks the other way over anything as long as it doesn’t damage her property.”
Chris shook his head. “Does more than look the other way. She takes a cut off the working girls.”
“Slick tell you that?” asked Doc.
“Didn’t have to. The old bitch tried to charge her twenty bucks for taking me to her room. Told Slick if she had a mind to start selling pussy, they could both make some quick cash, even though the hag thinks Slick is too old.”
“Too old?” Hawk bit out. “Jesus Christ, she’s barely, what, 25? How young are we talking about here?”
Chris’s face darkened. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone around and I sure as shit didn’t ask. But it doesn’t sit right with me, the hag charging the girls money on top of what they’re already paying for the room. Especially girls as young as Slick or even younger.”
Doc considered this. “I’ll have vice swing by on the weekend, check I.D.’s.”
Chris nodded. As an idea, he didn’t mind prostitution. He figured it was none of his business for starters, and since he himself made his living with his hands, he didn’t see any harm in a woman selling off her skills if she had a mind to. He had never paid for sex and never would, but guys in the service did it all the time, and as long as no one was being hurt by it, he never let it bother him. But the reality of hooking in a place like Rapid City, South Dakota, turned his stomach a little.
The women out here weren’t the self-possessed, high-class, business-minded ladies of Vegas, New York, Paris, or Berlin. The women here were often abused, vulnerable, and desperate to scratch out a living, strung out by the habits they fed, needing money to buy their drugs but needing the drugs to numb themselves from the brutality of their profession. These weren’t mutually beneficial business transactions. These were people, both the hookers and their Johns, taking advantage of the weaknesses of others for a temporary fix.
“Something else I gotta say,” Chris announced and his men looked up from their plates. “Slick’s off limits.”
Tex grinned. “You staking a claim on that already? She hasn’t even been next door a whole week.”
Hawk laughed. “She finally forgave you? Did you show her your gun?”
Chris shook his head, took a pull off his beer and set it down. “She’s been raped.”