Kristen Ashley - Play It Safe

“That’s fascinating,” I stated. It was and more, it felt good him sharing that with me. I didn’t know why. It could be the casual way he did it, like we were having a conversation, like we were getting to know each other, like this would be one of many such situations we would find ourselves in, together, just like we were then, conversing, sharing, getting to know each other until we knew each other and therefore I had to shut it down. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

His smile faded and his eyes went watchful again. He also didn’t speak.

He studied me for a while as I assessed my options, deciding to get some money out, throw it on the table in order to pay for my already eaten and plate cleared breakfast and mostly drunk not cleared third cup of coffee, get my stuff, say a farewell that wasn’t rude but was final and get the heck out of there.

Before I could put this plan into action, Gray spoke again.

“Man you’re with, not old enough to be your Dad, looks enough like you, gotta be kin. He your brother?”

That had my attention.

When had he seen Casey?

I didn’t ask this question.

Instead I made a point.

“You the sheriff or something?”

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Then can’t say I’m real comfortable with that kind of attention,” I told him.

“Bet not,” he replied quietly.

“I –” I started but stopped when he leaned in.

“Can’t say I wanna say this but I’m gonna say it. You’re not here to look into the waitressing gig at Jenkins, you and your guy best be moving on.”

Not good.

“Sorry?” I asked even more quietly than he was speaking

“Don’t know the game, don’t care, don’t ‘spect you’ll share since you won’t even tell me your name. Do know what he’s doin’ and I’m not the only one. Don’t know when he calls you in to do your part. What I’ll tell you is, you move forward on whatever mark he thinks he’s found, you will find trouble. They’re expecting it. They’ve clocked him. You need to move on.”

I was right. Not good.

Casey had been made. And Gray, knowing I was laying low, made me.

Gray was right. Time for us to move on.

I was about to do that when he kept talking.

“That said, Jenkins’s girls get good tips. Food is top-notch, top dollar, always has been. Tips are big. Shelly, head waitress there, pulled down nearly forty grand last year. Nothin’ to sneeze at. She gets extra due to hirin’ and trainin’ but all the girls there been there awhile, they like it. It’s only that Diane left ‘cause her man got that job in Oklahoma so she had to go. Be a good place to be, you’re lookin’ for that kind of place.”

I stared at him and now my mouth and throat were dry. Not because he was handsome and all the other things he was, just because he was sitting there calmly offering me a dream.

I was probably the only girl in the world who wanted to be a waitress.

And it wasn’t being the waitress I wanted to be.

But that would work for me.

In this town.

With him in it.

Roots.

Connections.

Wake up every day and know where you are and go to bed every night knowing you’ll wake up that way.

I would love that.

And just thinking about it made me want to cry.

So I had to get the heck out of there.

And I set about doing that, getting money and suiting up against the cold while muttering, “Appreciated, Gray. Your time. Your honesty.”

I didn’t button my jacket or wrap my scarf around, barely had my wallet back in my purse as I slid out of the booth, scarf in hand, bag scrunched with it, still shrugging on one side of my coat.

But I gave it to myself, one last thing. Foolish. But I wanted it. Badly. And I didn’t get anything I wanted so I took it.

I looked back in his beautiful eyes surrounded by his striking face, his fantastic lips, his thick, unusual hair all on top of broad shoulders and a wide chest covered in a Western-style denim shirt with pearl snap buttons and I whispered, “Take care.”

Then I got the heck out of there.

Fifteen minutes later…

“That works for me,” Casey stated and I stared.

“What?” I asked.

He grinned and I knew that grin.

My brother.

Darn.

“Had a hot one the other night, gonna take another dip in that. Good to have the time and not have to be on the job.”

I told him about what Gray told me, he was made, Gray made me. The situation was hot. We couldn’t proceed.

We had to get out of there.

“Casey, I don’t think I have to remind you but we have five hundred, twelve dollars and thirteen cents. We gotta get on the road.”

His grin didn’t fade even a little.

“Just one night,” he replied.

I shook my head. “No, we gotta go.”

“Ivey,” his voice turned cajoling as he moved towards me, “we got a night.”

“We don’t. We have five hundred, twelve dollars and thirteen cents without a play to make. We gotta get on the road, find a new burg, find a new payday. That takes time. We have a week before we got nothing.”

“Honey,” definitely cajoling, the grin getting bigger, “it’s only one night.”

“One night means one more night’s hotel stay and one day we’re not on the road, a day we lose. We don’t have a night.”

Casey stepped back and his face got hard.

This was not good either.

My life was filled with not good. It happened a lot. And a lot of when it happened was when Casey got this way.

“Jesus, Ivey, what the fuck? It’s just one night!” he clipped loudly.

“Casey –”

“No,” he shook his head. “Fuck that. I liked her. She made me laugh. Spendin’ time with you, love you, sis, you know it,” he thumped his chest, “bottom of my heart, you know it,” he said the last three words leaning in, emphasis made in his tone, his body, his face, emphasis he made often, “but you aren’t about shits and grins, honey. She made me laugh. I had fun. I don’t get that a lot. I’m not askin’ for a week, I’m askin’ for one night. The least you could give me.”

Over the last ten years there were a lot of “the least I could give Casey”.

And just like then, I gave them.

“One night.”

He wasn’t done being angry.

“Jesus,” he muttered, moving away, “why you make me jump through these hoops…” he trailed off and I closed my eyes.

I did it because I learned a long time ago. I kept our bank. I paid attention. I kept us on target. Casey wasn’t good at that.

Casey wasn’t good at a lot of things.

Except taking care of me.

In his way.

And I knew exactly how far five hundred, twelve dollars and thirteen cents would get us in food, gas and hotels.

We had a week.

We didn’t have a day to blow.

But I’d blow it for Casey. I owed him that. I owed him everything.

“Tonight, need you to make yourself scarce,” he declared, lifting the phone out of its cradle.

Oh no.

I was giving him his night, he didn’t get the room.

“No way,” I replied, turning to face him fully.

His still angry eyes came to me. “What?”

“No way,” I said. “You had the room last night. Not again. I was sitting in a bar for three hours and then I was out in the cold. You need a visit with your hot one, you get creative but I get the room.”

He put the phone back in the cradle and returned, “I can hardly bang her in the car. She’s a class piece.”

Right. She was a class piece.

I didn’t believe that for a second.

My brother nailed his fair share of pieces and none of them had been class.

“Then, like I said, get creative,” I replied.

“That is uncool,” he bit out.

“What?” I asked. “We should not be staying an extra day and you know it. You want to have a little fun, laugh a little, enjoy her company, you got it. I gave in. We can’t afford it but it’s yours. You also got the hotel room last night. Tonight, it’s mine. I know you can be creative, Casey. So be creative.”

He scowled at me.

I let him.

I gave in a lot, most of the time I let him walk all over me. I owed him so I gave it to him.

But I wasn’t going to sit in that bar, not tonight, not when Gray could walk in. A Gray who knew what Casey was, what I was. No way. No stinking way.

Casey waited, hoping I’d melt. I did this a lot so he had a lot of hope.

I held his scowl and didn’t melt.

“Fuck,” he hissed, snatched the phone out of the receiver, dug into his back pocket and took out a wisp of paper. Then he looked at it and started punching buttons.

“I’ll give you a second to talk to your girl,” I muttered and his eyes cut to me.

“Thanks, big of you,” he said sarcastically.

I sighed.

Then his eyes went to his feet and his face split in a grin. “Hey beautiful, it’s Casey,” he said into the phone.

I got out of there.

“Kitchen still open?” I asked the bartender.

I was back at the bar. It was a stupid place to be. It was the last place I should be. The last place I wanted to be. But there I was.

And I knew why.

Because I was lying to myself.

It wasn’t the last place I wanted to be. It was the only place I knew he might be.

Stupid.

She was the same bartender. Lots of thick, dark hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back, nearly as long as mine. Even though it was January, she was wearing a skintight tank and skintight jeans. Better tips that way, I’d guess. She was long and strangely very trim, no meat on her yet she had large breasts. They didn’t appear fake though obviously I wouldn’t know. Either someone did a phenomenal job or God liked her a whole lot.