“Cut that ‘Dad’ shit out. It’s creepy,” he said. There was a pause as I heard him flick his lighter on. Inhale, exhale. “Listen, the reason I’m calling is because I think we have to move you again.”
I rolled my eyes. Apparently shit wasn’t as calm as I thought it had been lately if he was calling with this.
“Why?”
“Because you’re being too much of a fucking Casanova and I’ve been fielding information to Pardon as to where you are,” he said angrily.
“Oh.”
I balanced the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I twisted the cap off my beer, then took a healthy swig.
“When are you coming, then?” I asked, nodding at Mary Ann who brought my food over. She smiled as she set it down, I grinned, and she blushed. Guess you’re coming home with me tonight.
I took a bite of my burger while Dallas rattled off his new plan. This time they were going to move me south into California. He said we’d ride until he could figure out a place that would keep me from going out so much.
Reaching for my napkin, I wiped my mouth and waited while he kept babbling. I didn’t understand why he was so hellbent on keeping me away from Pardon when he could just let me go back to the clubhouse and have it out with him.
“Tomorrow night, then?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’ll take me a while to get the guys together without him knowing, but we’ll definitely be there tomorrow night,” he confirmed.
“Alright.”
Disconnecting the call, I set my phone down next to the plastic basket that was holding my burger. I balled up the napkin and placed my fist to my mouth wondering if I should shit on Dallas’ plan and just go back to Bend. The worst Pardon could do was try to kill me.
“Is this seat taken?”
I glanced to my right and shook my head. A young woman with somewhat long, straight brown hair and big blue eyes was smiling at me. She was pretty, very pretty and for some faint reason I felt like I had seen her around before.
“You’re Swing, right?” she asked, settling into the stool next to me.
“Maybe,” I replied, picking up my burger and taking another bite. “Who’s asking?”
“Saylor’s asking,” she responded with a laugh.
“Saylor?” I asked giving her a doubtful look. It seemed that no matter what I did, I couldn’t get away from the seafaring innuendos of my lineage. “Your name is Saylor?”
“It sure is! And yours is Swing?” she asked, mocking the doubt in my tone.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Saylor was acting like a little shit within the first five minutes of our conversation, and I liked it.
“No. It’s not. Not the one I was born with anyway,” I replied turning to face her. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I heard there was a new guy in town by the name of Swing that’s hung like a horse. I was just wondering if that was you,” she replied with a wide grin.
I chuckled and went back to my burger. She was making this too easy for me. That’s usually what happened though in this Podunk town when I went out.
“My name is Nero,” I finally said.
She put a hand on my forearm. I looked at her curiously. The look on her face was quite comical.
“Your name is Nero and you’re giving me shit over being named Saylor?” she asked.
“It is and I didn’t give you shit. Your name made me feel nostalgic in a roundabout way is all,” I replied, pulling my arm away from her.
“That’s besides the point. Are you hung like a horse?” she asked with a laugh.
I looked at her for a moment before grabbing my beer and what was left of my burger and moving down to the other end of the bar. It was one thing to make small talk with a few jokes here and there, but to keep asking me the same stupid question and putting her hands on me was starting to make her seem desperate. I didn’t like desperate people; they were usually the ones I ended up putting down.