Lucky pauses to get the waitress to refill his coffee cup.
“One night, some punk ass kids decided to play thugs with a chick pumping gas. They were mouthing off, talking about fucking her real nice and taking turns. She was rattled mostly because she was preggo and ready to pop. The kids weren’t for real, but she was scared. I figured I outta make them scared too. I took a broom I was using to sweep up and cracked one of the shits over the head. His friends panicked then attacked me because they were too stupid to think straight. I hit them too. Nothing serious. Broken teeth, black eyes, bruised egos mainly. Anyway, they ran off and the chick finally found what she’s looking for in her purse. It wasn’t a phone, but a gun. She told me thanks, but to back the fuck off. I did what she said since I don’t hit ladies, even when they’re not carrying heat. She drove off and I didn’t think anything of it. The station owner didn’t care about me scaring some shit kids and the kids weren’t telling their parents. Naw, I didn’t think anything of it until the lady’s old man showed up.”
Lucky drinks his coffee while I poke at my food, eating without enjoying it.
“Turned out she was married to Joker Curran and he just happened to be the VP of the Little Memphis Motorcycle Club. He wanted to thank me. He also wanted to make me happy. A guy like Joker treats his friends well and leaves his enemies in those shallow graves you were worried about. After awhile, I’m Joker’s friend and a member of the club.”
Lucky finishes his meal then leans back and grins at me. “You still don’t know why I’m telling you this, do you, kid?”
“To impress me?”
Lucky laughs hard like I’m hilarious. “What do I care about impressing a little girl I ain’t going to fuck?”
When I shrug, Lucky’s smile softens. “Because in Hawthorne, you’re a stripper and you’ve got a shitty mom and two little brothers expecting you to save them. Back there, you are Shay with a set of problems. In Blairsville, you can be anyone you fucking want to be. You can take the problems with you or be a new chick with new problems. You have a choice despite what your sad little girl feelings tell you. When you get to town, you can be a scrawny stripper bitch, flashing your titties to solve your problems. Or you can do something else. I don’t know you or what you want. I do know if a stupid guy like me can get a new start, you can do.”
“Is that why they call you Lucky?” I ask, finishing my food because he’s clearly ready to go.
“No,” he mutters, throwing a twenty on the table. “I go to the casinos and never lose at cards. You know why?”
Shoving the last bites in my mouth, I shake my head.
“Because I don’t like cards. Don’t need them. I make money and walk away. Not addictive for me, so I never stay past my winning streak. That ain’t luck. It’s called common sense, but Lucky makes a better name, right?”
We finish at Denny’s then stop by a gas station to fill up his Harley. Lucky also wants cigarettes and a Mountain Dew. I’m more interested in the trucker hats on the top of the display case. Next, I grab a guy’s flannel shirt from a rack. Seventeen dollars later, I’m no longer stripper Shay from Hawthorne. I’m now a tough girl. At the very least, I don’t look nearly as sexy.
Climbing on behind Lucky, I decide the new Shay won’t play by her family’s rules. Stupid choices, easy fun, no self-control are things of the past. Taking a crazy leap might have gotten me here, but I’m playing shit smarter in the future.
Six hours later, I arrive in Blairsville. Dubbed Little Memphis by the locals, the city doesn’t look rough in the bright light of day. Doesn’t look like much of anything really.
Lucky told me earlier he found me a place to stay. The Craftsman-style house belongs to the woman he helped at the gas station. Darby Curran sizes me up, making me feel like trash. Lucky warns me that Darby isn’t like anyone I’ll ever meet. He’s right, but I don’t expect what awaits me.
Wearing a black poodle shirt and pink sweater, Darby is decked out like a reject from Happy Days. She even sports cat eye glasses and bright red lips. She isn’t an old lady though. I’d guess she’s in her late thirties. Black hair curled perfectly and blue eyes made up like an old movie star, Darby is the epitome of glamour. Me, not so much.
“You two fuck?” she asks, tapping her foot.
I shake my head while Lucky messes with his phone. He glances up at Darby and sighs.
“Like I said when I called earlier, I met a kid who needed to bail from Hawthorne. This is the kid.”
“She’s not a kid, Lucky. I can’t have your slut on the side living here. Jenn’ll burn my place to the ground.”
“No, she won’t,” Lucky says, sliding his phone into a back pocket. “If I’m lying about why I brought Shay here, Jenn will shoot me in the kneecap then run over Shay with a car. You’ll be fine.”