But she didn’t say it. Not then. Not after she gave me the ride of my life. Not at dinner, and not after one of the other several times I fucked her through the night.
I wanted to think my plan was working, and at the same time, I knew I needed to tread lightly. A leopard didn’t change its spots and Trina wouldn’t allow herself to be a slave to her physical desires. I needed to be ready for her to change course back to a platonic relationship at any time. Hopefully, she’d at least put it off during our fake marriage. It would give me time to convince her to continue our highly arousing and sexually satisfying romps beyond the bet.
Not that I only wanted sex from her. My attraction to her didn’t always make sense considering she always treated me with a certain disdain, but last night, that snark was gone. She was still smart-mouthed and opinionated, but it wasn’t directed at me. We laughed and teased in a friendlier manner. I felt like I’d not only been able to see her body, but also to catch a glimpse of the woman she was when she wasn’t working so hard to keep her walls up.
The next morning, I thought I’d really scored when she woke me with a blow job to end all blow jobs. The sight of my cum dripping from her mouth wasn’t something I’d ever forget. If this thing between us didn’t work out, that would be the go-to image in my brain when I jacked off.
I sent Trina off to work and then dealt with a few band things before I went to my job at the Salvation Station for my shift. I’d started working there after high school as a waiter to make money while I tried to get my band going. Once I hit twenty-one, I moved into bartending, which I loved. It was true that bartenders were like shrinks. Actually, I think people told bartenders more than they told their shrinks. If I was the sort of man to extort people, I’d be rich from all the secrets and woes people told me.
Last year, the owner promoted me to manager, effectively confirming that my career was in the restaurant business and not in music. But I was okay with that. Mr. Coffey, who owned the restaurant, was happy with my work and even started discussing my becoming a partner in the place, and perhaps my buying it when he got ready to retire. He was in his late sixties and his kids had all left town, so I was the only one he felt he could leave it to. See, despite what Trina thought, I didn’t need my entire life planned out to have it go well.
I was working the lunch and dinner crowd. Lunch was busy with blue and white collar lunch folks, many of whom liked a beer or a mixed drink during lunch. As the crowd thinned, a well-dressed, attractive woman took a seat at the bar. She looked to be around my age, and had thick dark hair and smart-looking green eyes. Before Trina, I might have hit on her. But now, as pretty as she was, my mind and body were completely owned by Trina.
“What can I get you?” I asked her.
“Orange juice.” She hopped up on the barstool.
I grabbed a juice glass and pulled the bottle of OJ from the fridge. I poured her a glass and set it in front of her.
“Anything extra? Vodka?”
She shook her head. “No Thank you.” She took a sip and then asked, “Are you familiar with Simon Stark?”
I scoffed. “Everyone in Salvation knows Stark.”
She laughed. “Funny how many people have that same reaction.” She extended her hand over the bar. “I’m Erica Edmonds. I’m a writer doing a piece on Stark. Would you be able to answer a few questions?”
I shook her hand. “Ryder Simms. I don’t know him personally. I haven’t had any dealings with him.” That wasn’t completely true. He did crash my sister’s second wedding to Wyatt and tried to discredit her.
She took out a journalist’s notebook. “Is it true the town was able to thwart his effort to build a prison?” She sipped her juice as her green eyes watched me.
I shrugged. “I can tell you what I’ve heard. Like I said, I don’t have direct dealings with him except booing him when he called my sister a fraud at her wedding.”
“Oh? That must have been interesting.”
I smiled. “Just another day in Salvation. We take things pretty easy around here.” Well most of us. Trina didn’t. I thought maybe Ms. Edmonds should talk to her. Trina would give her an earful on Stark although hopefully not the part about how Sinclair and Wyatt’s first marriage was a business arrangement to get rid of Stark.
“He has a reputation of getting what he wants. Rumor is that the mayor was all for this prison,” she said.
“The thing is, we’re a farming community, and we’re close-knit. Stark and the mayor underestimated the people here and their commitment to each other.”
She wrote a note on her pad. “Can I quote you?”
“Sure, why not?” I grabbed a towel and wiped the bar.
“It’s my understanding that your sister, the deputy mayor, played a role in keeping his prison out.” She said it in a way that suggested she knew more than she was letting on. Chances were we she knew about Sinclair and Wyatt, and that I was related to them.
I nodded. “That’s right. You should talk to her though.”
“I will. I’m trying to gather the towns’ people’s impressions. The mayor was hoping the prison would bring jobs, and now with the prison plan thwarted, those jobs aren’t coming. Are there other people who resent
