Moving on. As long as it gets us to the next place.
Red peeled off the side of the building where she’d been leaning. I held out my hand to her, and nearly took hers when she offered it.
I stopped myself. The accidental gesture jarred. I was not going there. Make her want, need me, need to stay, but affection was not forthcoming. I didn’t understand the pleasure people got from it anyway.
But I used to, my mind reminded me, dredging up the scenes from my life pre-mesmer, before I nearly married. The wedding that never was. I used to hold hands. It had felt good.
That man had died. I’d worn him out and thrown him away, then the mesmer in me had burned out the last few fragments.
I dithered, dusting my hands on my jeans then hooking them in my belt.
The ute was not going anywhere, and I had an itch to scratch. The girl I’d sent off at the picnic area, the hitchhiker, she was here. We’d seen her as we drove in, and she’d waved. The bronze pick-up had been distinctive.
Tammy might not be with us, but once I locked onto a woman, I could find her again, if the area was small-ish. Like it was here.
And I had locked onto her. I’d come so close to doing dirty things with her. So close to making her take part in a small orgy at the rest stop. The itch grew less potent when I thought of Red. It would feel like incest to make her take part. That had to be the drug affecting me?
And I knew where the dark-haired girl had gone with that sweet ass of hers. Into the hotel up ahead to the left.
A semi went by towing two containers, headlights creaming away the darkness, showing the length of this wide street with the huge footpath areas. Empty cattle trucks lined the opposite side of this small commercial area. As the headlights faded, the few streetlights came into prominence. Patrons from the hotel overflowed onto the footpath – leaving for home or wherever they were staying or kicked out by a bouncer.
No doubt the town planned to expand to four lanes, on a day a long way in the future. Borgeman was likely deserted when the cattlemen and the bikers weren’t in town. The scent of cows and the lowing from the beasts carried from the yards where they were kept somewhere to the west.
This itch was not going away.
The young vet was locking up the front door behind us, and I turned and gestured.
“Red, we can stay with the vet, tonight. We won’t get accommodation elsewhere in town. Not with all this on.”
With a nod and a few words to Dr. Vickie, I arranged that. Too easy, as always. I had more things I wanted to arrange, this night. Interesting things.
“I’ll be back, later.” I strolled into the street and followed the sidewalk in the direction of the noisy, light-blaring pub.
HOTEL BORGEMAN. I read the sign as I passed under it.
Inside, the place was humming with people. Past the bar and to the right, a dance floor was packed – bouncing with dancers and with a small band doing what sounded like covers. The front area was all tables, chairs, bar stools, and rowdy people. Hearing anything in here would be a miracle unless you were in kissing distance. I ordered a beer and sat on a corner bar stool, watching. She was in here. I could feel her presence.
The riding boots, faded jeans, and hard-worn look on the men in here said most were from the cattle sale, though the tattoos on some men and women said there might be bikers also, or they might be locals. They might have a hybrid here, like a kangaroo-horse-biker for all I knew.
I could have had any of the females in here, but this had become a mission. I had a raging need to dominate and hurt, to really hurt.
Be kind to others? That ruled out Red, and I’d missed this female earlier… it had to be her that I took. Tammy.
Enlisting a few other females for the fun might be worth it.
I sucked on the beer and finally spotted her due to the swirl of action on the dance floor, the swish of her hair, and the man trying to drag her away by her arm.
Boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend?
The ex, from the screamed words I caught. Most of the patrons stopped eating, drinking, and celebrating to watch.
As he was dragging her toward the entrance, she managed to smack his forearm, knocking it loose. He punched her to the floor. Half a dozen men rose from their seats, a couple punched him, then a bouncer moved in and he was thrown out. Rex was his name. Reminded me of a dog.
Tammy was helped up by two women. The bouncer talked to her and them for a minute before leaving them be.
“You okay?”
“Do you need a lift home?”
I listened to it all, watched them check her for damage, heard the discussion about whether it was safe to leave when the ex was outside. Finally, Tammy and her new friends, all of them women, left via some back exit.
Such wonderful community spirit.
I took that as my signal too, and slid off the stool. I used the front door, noting that Rex, who really needed a non-doggy name, was down the street next to a van getting talked to by three hefty-looking, cowboy-hat-wearing dudes. He did not sound or look happy, especially when they took to slapping then punching him, but he was not my concern.
I headed around the back where a car park was located, and
