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)
“Pretty much all of them have been, yeah,” Daisy responded coolly. “From the one that cheated to the one that knocked out one of my teeth and the ones in between. Yep, all assholes. You’re just the one who doesn’t know my name. And to be honest, that doesn’t put you very high on the list. In fact,” she informed him. “A two-minute schtup standing up in a bathroom where I didn’t even get off doesn’t even deserve to make the list at all. So, why don’t you forget it happened? I pretty much have.”
Someone whistled, but Daisy didn’t look around to see who.
“I’m new in town and I don’t have any friends. I’d like to make some. And right now something in the kitchen smells awfully damn good, and, seeing as how I’ve been living off of bar food and trashburgers for weeks, this will be the first time I’ve had a home cooked meal in... Well, honestly, my mama’s not exactly the Nebraska Martha Stewart, so unless ravioli from a can counts as home cooking, then I’ve never had it. So, do you think you could find it in your too-small Grinch’s heart to let me get a decent meal and talk to someone who isn’t ordering a beer?”
Daisy crossed her arms and waited for him to decide. She was totally aware that everyone in the room was looking at her. Even Sarah had come out of the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about. Daisy didn’t care. She’d learned long ago that you couldn’t hide who you were, especially not in Delay, Nebraska. Everyone knew you were from the trailer park. Everyone knew your daddy got your mama pregnant and took off before you were even born.
No amount of church-donated clothes and shoes would let you fool anyone into thinking you were anything but Poor White Trash. Over the years, she’d also discovered that being open about it and yes, occasionally wielding it like a weapon of sorts could make things easier on herself. Now Easy had to decide if he was going to be the guy who wouldn’t let a broke-ass barmaid have a meal.
It wasn’t hard to be an asshole when you were surrounded by a group of them, but it was often difficult to be the only one. Easy shifted the baby in his arms and finally looked away from her. Daisy figured it was as close to a guy like him waving the white flag as she was ever going to get. She lifted her chin and walked past him toward Sarah and the kitchen beyond.
Chapter 10
Easy couldn’t bring himself to look at her as she walked past him. He knew that none of this was her fault, anyway. It only bothered him that he thought of Brenda when he looked at her.
Her, he realized, looking down at Hope, he didn’t even know-
“Her name is Daisy,” Abby told him quietly, as though she read his thoughts.
He had a vague memory of daisies tattooed on her shoulder. She had tried to talk to him, multiple times, but he’d been brooding over Brenda and hadn’t responded. Then he’d cornered her in the bathroom, but she hadn’t minded. Well, she’s used to assholes, he thought. Apparently, serious assholes at that.
Now he was the asshole. Wasn’t that always the case? Everyone was looking at him. He’d fucked up; he knew it. He didn’t need a lecture from his former lieutenant, or insight from Tex, or any damn thing else. He strode to Shooter and passed the baby to him then turned and walked toward the door.
“You’re leaving?” Abby asked, slightly panicked.
Easy ignored her and kept moving. He stepped out the door onto the front porch.
“He’s leaving?” he heard her ask the others. “He can’t just apologize? Is... is he going to make us choose?”
Easy didn’t wait to hear the rest as he descended the steps and headed to his truck. Fuck no, he wasn’t going to make them choose. At this point, they’d choose her. Daisy, he corrected. And who could blame them? Then he’d lose his family- again. He stepped on the gas and shot toward the country lane that led down the foothill. It was a fairly quick drive back into town, quick enough in the truck at least. Easy still couldn’t drum up the courage to ride his bike out this far.
He didn’t call it fear, not out loud. He simply told them his thigh got a little numb if he rode too long, which was not a lie. The damn temporary prosthetic wasn’t the greatest fit, but Easy still wasn’t too comfortable even driving outside the city limits. He’d sucked it up for Slick’s wedding in the Badlands, but that was it. For a while he’d had crazy visions of putting it down on the pavement and losing the other leg. That fear had now subsided until it was mostly just a nagging bad feeling in the back of his mind, but it hadn’t yet gone away.