Riders - The Road To Ruin (I)

By Katrina Liss

Copyright 2015
K.M.Liss

Smashwords Edition
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Disclaimer: This novel is a work of
fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while
at times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author’s
imagination.

Thanks &
Acknowledgements

Love and thanks to my family and
friends, for believing in me and encouraging me to write my little
heart out.

It was Friday night in Olson, Kansas, and
Riders bar was packed.

The customers were stacking up and I was
struggling to keep pace, I hadn't built up speed on the job yet. I
kept a smile plastered firmly on my face, and did my best to
cope.

“Stop smiling at everyone like a goddam
idiot and get a move on, girl, we're fuckin' busy,” Mickey
said.

“I could do with some help to be honest,” I
admitted.

He tutted. Mickey tutted a lot.

“
Kells,”
he called
to across to Kelly, who was meeting and greeting at the door, and
her head swiveled toward him, “need you on the bar,
sweetheart.”

She gave him her usual simper of a smile and
writhed her way through the crowd to the bar. I was quite sure they
were more than just friends. The way they spoke and looked at each
other was a dead giveaway.

Mickey was glowering at me, as if being new,
slow and inexperienced was a terrible sin, but I smiled brightly at
him. I felt that was the best option at that moment, because I
really wanted to slap his face.

To add insult to injury he goosed my ass as
he passed behind me. The guy really was a disgusting
chauvinistic
asshole.

I stood there angry but silent, trying not
to react to his rough grope, and sadly realizing I was getting far
too used to accepting it.

“Smiling makes the world go round, happy
staff equals happy customers,” I pointed out, trying to hide my
anger, while smiling at the cute guy opposite me, passing him his
change.

“You can keep them happy
after
closing time, earn yourself some big tips, like the other
girls.”

Not only was Mickey a lecherous bastard, he
was a pimp as well. And unfortunately the long haired biker
grease-ball was my boss.

I scowled at him, ignoring his filthy
remark. He'd been dropping strong hints I should turn tricks, since
the second I'd arrived.

Yeah... like that was gonna happen. Over my
dead body.

But Mickey Green's prostitution racket
aside, the pay was good. I was prepared to put up with the shit
going on around me to get the cash. Besides, I was only here for
ten weekends while I was on vacation from Kansas State University
for the summer.

I'd just finished my second year at K-State,
studying Law. This year had been such hard going. I wasn't sure if
I was cut out to be a lawyer, if I was honest with myself. But I'd
see how it panned out. Give it my very best shot. I wasn't a
quitter.

I wanted to be successful, to have a
respectable well paid career, and becoming a lawyer was an
intellectual and glamorous way to earn money.

I wouldn't need to depend on a man for
anything. That was so important to me after all that had happened
to my mom.

Her situation had taught me a big lesson in
life. She wasn't particularly academically minded and she'd not
been encouraged much by my Gran, or her teachers at school.
She openly admitted she hadn't tried too hard at
her studies. She'd been far too interested in other things.
Basically hanging out with boys.
As a result of her lack of
qualifications, she'd never had a good job, relying on waitressing
or bar work. That was where she met her mistakes.

Carl, my dad had been her first mistake.
She'd been just eighteen when she met him, and nineteen when she
gave birth to me. At twenty, a few weeks after they'd finally got
their own place, he just upped and left town without a word. My
sister Philipa's dad, Artie, was a complete womanizer and after two
years screwing Mom around he moved on to a rich widow. Her last
love David, stayed for four years before he left us high and dry,
having drained the little cash we had with his drinking habit.

She'd been far too dependent on men to
support her and they'd walked all over her and let her down.

She was broken hearted, broken in spirit,
crushed and ruined. It upset me so much when I thought of it. At
thirty eight she was still very beautiful but so lonely and
mistrustful. She never went out with men anymore. She said she
didn't have the emotional energy to cope with any more
disappointment.

No man was gonna ruin me. I was driven by
what was in my head, and definitely not by my heart. I was
extremely guarded, suspicious of men and cautious about letting any
guy get close. Apart from Johnny. He'd found a way in via the back
door. He started out as a friend. We may have slept together, after
a drunken night at campus party, but that had been a big let down.
It was clear, after a few weeks, that we weren't destined to be
together that way.

A sea of faces appeared before me as I
rushed around serving bottles of beer, soda, wine and spirits.

It started to quieten down a little after
nine, as the drinking pace slowed and the lightweight drinkers
drifted off. It was still pretty full, mainly with guys, and one
group of girls who were having a rowdy party in a booth.

“Go have a five minute break,” Mickey said,
sending me off to the restrooms, with a squeeze of my backside.

He was such a sweet and generous boss.
Not.

I nipped in and out of the restroom quickly.
Having missed dinner, I was hungry, so I sneaked into the kitchen
to eat the sugar covered donut I'd brought with me. We weren't
allowed to eat in the bar; it was a liquid environment only. Mickey
was very strict about rules.

No time-wasting. No girl chat. No phone
calls. No food. No drinking alcohol. No chewing gum. No sucking
mints.

No breathing maybe...?

Starving, I stuffed the donut in my mouth
greedily, the sugar coating spread just about everywhere round my
lips. I ran a glass of water to wash down the dough, which was
stuck in my throat.

I leaned against the counter as I drank,
licking my sugary lips, gazing around.

My friend Julia worked in the kitchen.
During the day the bar was a diner and she was the chef's
assistant. Julia was the one who got me the job. She knew they were
looking for a waitress, and I'd been a waitress in Manhattan, up
until a month ago, when the restaurant I'd worked for closed
down.

I turned up for the interview with Mickey,
but he immediately told me the diner waitress position was filled,
and offered me a job bartending and cocktail waitressing instead. I
was very pleased as he described it as a much better one; better
pay, and the opportunity to make a lot more in tips.

Little did I know what he was grooming me
for.

I snorted in disgust.

Not the kind of tips I wanted to earn.

There was no way was I going to get involved
in what went on in the back rooms; the rooms where the looser of
Mickey's bar girls earned a lot of extra tips by sharing intimate
body parts with guys.

Still, a job was a job. It was just a shame
I didn't get to work alongside Julia. I was looking forward to
that. I couldn't say I was too keen on many of the girls I worked
with in the bar. I liked Sally, the cleaner, and particularly newly
wed Jessica, who tended bar. I'd spent a while chatting with her in
the restroom. But the other half a dozen were either bitches or a
whole load of immorality. Not the kinda girls I wanted to associate
too closely with.

The low rumble of motorcycles shook through
the building like an earthquake. Their glaring lights moved past
the windows, then died.

Excitement grew inside me as the silence of
anticipation descended on the bar. I served someone with a round of
vodka shots when the door flung open and there they were.

The Riders.

A bunch of guys after whom the bar was
named. They were Mill Creek Ranch hands who rode real horses on the
ranch for a living, and packed some serious metal horsepower on the
road.

A tough bunch of guys if there ever was one.
Apparently, from what I'd heard from Julia, one of them usually
ended up in jail on a Friday or Saturday for some reason or
another.

Christie, Cherry and Lola descended on the
four of them as they arrived. The girls sounded like squealing
stuck pigs, as they competed with each other, covering them with
kisses and draping arms everywhere. The men moved through the
throng, shaking off their female entourage, as they headed for
things of more pressing importance... a drink at the bar.

Joshua Lyle, the head honcho and no-good
son-of-a-bitch, stood before me.

He was the hottest, sexiest, most
self-assured piece of attitude on the planet.

He could well have the words 'come hither,
and thou shalt be burned' tattooed on his dick.

I may be inexperienced with men, but I knew
his type. Bad news. The type my mom had made mistakes with. She
openly admitted she went for the wrong sort. She was drawn to looks
and bad attitude and here was a prime example of it.

His swept back brown hair spoke to female
fingers, calling out to them to grab it; his wicked hazel eyes
stole a girl's soul, and he had the kind of lips you'd want to
devour from dusk till dawn.

“Eight beers, sweetheart.” His deep voice
rumbled through me like thunder. “Mickey put that on my tab will
ya, pal,” he called across to Mickey who raised a thumb in
acknowledgment.

“
Okay
... there you go,” I muttered,
as I grabbed the bottles from the cooler and popped the lids,
lining them up on the bar. He passed the other three guys two
each.

He leaned over the bar, on his forearms,
cocked his head and slowly fucked me with his eyes.

It was a lazy look that
said,
you don't wanna know the kind of things I'd like to
do to you.

I bristled with indignation and annoyance,
while I burned beneath his gaze.

He smiled widely, flashing his perfect white
teeth.

“So...you're new to Olson, I guess?” he
asked.

“I don't live here. I live in Preston,” I
explained politely, trying to keep my smile cool.

Preston was the town next door, seven miles
away.

“What's your name, girl?”

“Tiffany.”

“
Tiffany.
.. pretty name.”

“What's yours, boy,” I addressed him in the
same lowly manner as he'd addressed me and pretended I didn't know
his name or that his pop owned half the town, and the surrounding
zillion acres of farmland. Not to mention the bar I was standing
in.