Page 23 of Smokey's Distraction
“I’d love for his old lady to walk in on this,” Klutch said. “She’s always trying to start shit up with the other old ladies and make them feel like their old men are fucking around.”
“She’s a bitch.” Helm lowered his voice.
“I’ll drink to that.” Smokey held up his glass and tossed it back.
The men picked up the drinks the prospect put on the bar, then brought them to their mouths.
“Bones told me you got a chick from Denver to do your marketing,” Klutch said as he gestured for another Jack.
“Yeah, so?” Smokey leaned against the bar, his elbows propped up, the heel of his boot planted on the brass rail near the floor.
A small crease crossed Klutch’s forehead. “Why the fuck are you pissed?”
“I’m not,” Smokey replied, staring straight ahead.
“You’re acting like you are.” Klutch pressed his lips against the beer bottle and took a drink.
“Maybe he’s bummed ’cause she’s not a looker.” Rags scooped up a handful of nuts and trickled them into his mouth.
“Is that it?” Klutch asked.
“I didn’t pay attention. We work together.” Smokey’s jaw clenched.
“Why’s that a problem? A lot of people screw around at work. That’s how chicks meet men—at work,” Rags said.
Smokey gave him a sidelong glance. “When did you become such a fuckin’ expert on workplace hookups?”
“I’m just saying,” Rags grumbled.
“He’s pissed,” Klutch added.
“I don’t mix business with my personal life. If I wanna fuck, I got nine club girls ready and willing.”
“But that’s the point—the club whores arealwaysready. Hooking up with someone who works for you is hot as fuck.” Rags scooped up another handful of nuts.
“I already said that I don’t do that shit. Let’s move on,” Smokey said.
“Pissed as hell,” Klutch said to no one in particular.
The door opened and several members stomped their snowy boots on the mat by the entrance, then made their way toward Smokey and the others. Suddenly music, laughter, voices, shuffling feet, clinking of glasses, and scraping of chairs filled the room. Smokey welcomed it; the noise kept him from thinking about Ashley.
Nothing would happen between them other than a lot of dirty thoughts racing through his mind until the marketing campaign was done. He worked with women before, and some of the wholesalers had some pretty tempting chicks on their payrolls, but he’d always resisted. And he could do it again.No fuckin’ problem.
Smokey pushed away from the bar and sauntered over to Tank, Bear, and Hubcap and joined in on their motorcycle conversation.
5
Ashley scavengedthrough several drawers and cabinets before managing to find an oven mitt. She opened the oven door and a cloud of aromatic heat escaped. Carefully pulling out the metal pizza pan, she set it down on top of the stove and shut off the heat. Melted cheese bubbled and oozed over the sides of the crust as she slid the small pizza onto a plate. Gripping one side of the crust, Ashley pressed down hard on the knife handle and cut the pie in quarters. After grabbing a can of Coke, she walked into the family room and put both the plate and pop on the table before sinking down into the couch.
Just after she’d taken the first bite of her cheese and basil pizza, the phone rang, and Ashley groaned while leaning over to retrieve it from the coffee table.
“Hello?”
“May I speak with Ashley Callahan?” A deep, grating male voice crackled through her phone, scraping and jagged, like a knife sliding across concrete.
An unexpected chill ran down her spine. “Who is this?”
“Mark Ames. I’m calling about the tiles coming off the ceiling. A Zach Clerke left me a message telling me to call this number.”
