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Giggles filled the room at her silly antics. Cashea was sure Lilly wouldn’t have hesitated to use it on Brett had she had the chance. She was about the same height as Cashea and a spitfire.
“I just can’t believe Brett thought he would be a match for Draven. That guy is so damn scary.” Monica visibly shivered.
Murmurs went around. Sara, Kim, and Monica had all grown up in Ironhaven. Lilly and Cashea were the only two of the band who weren’t from around here. Lilly had moved here a few years ago from Seattle. Her college friend and roommate were from Ironhaven and had talked her into moving to the small town.
Cashea held back a frown. She didn’t think Draven looked scary. Hell, he had the brooding, silent “leave me the fuck alone” vibe just right. She didn’t know why, but she thought it was damn sexy. She couldn’t help it if she had a things for guys whowere the silent type as well. She could talk enough for the both of them.
“Brett is used to everyone bowing down to him and his little friends,” Sara said.
She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway with Monica and Lilly behind her. Lilly positioned herself against the door so it wouldn’t close.
“It’s about time someone stood up to him. You sure you won’t want us to wait for you?” Sara asked.
“I’m good. I’m just going to change my shoes and be on my way. I’ll see y’all on Monday after work.” Cashea shooed them on. She didn’t want to keep them any longer than necessary. It had been a long day for all of them. She’d gone to work earlier before coming out to the bar to perform. But she wasn’t going to complain. Fridays in the office were light, and singing at the Hen House was for fun. If not for their band, Cashea was sure she’d be curled up on her couch with a good book, an old movie playing in the background, and a nice little drink.
“Be safe!” Monica called out.
Lilly gave a wave and moved out of the way so the door shut, leaving Cashea in their makeshift dressing room alone.
Cashea opened her bag and pulled her flip-flops out. She wanted to take her cowboy boots off and switch over. She made quick work of slipping out of her boots and sliding her feet into the flops. She stuffed the boots into her bag before zipping it closed. She hefted the oversized bag up and placed the strap on her shoulder. She glanced around the room to ensure she and the girls weren’t leaving anything behind. It wasn’t anything fancy. There was a small couch, a couple of chairs, and a tiny bathroom. Along the wall was a long mirror for them to utilize with a vanity. The digs made them feel as if they were big superstars. Once in a while, the Hen House did host bands that came to Ironhaven.
Cashea shook her head and left the room and traveled down the hallway. The partying in the Hen House was in full swing. The DJ was playing a mix of hip-hop and country music. It worked for the eclectic crowd of young and older patrons. She made her way through the thick throng. There was always a rush of people who came out after midnight and filled the bar to the brim. Every now and then, Cashea and the girls hung out after their set, but tonight was not one of them. Everyone had plans except for her.
She had big plans to strip out of her clothes, which she was sure smelled like the bar, take a hot shower, throw on her jammies, and curl up on her couch with her blanket and find a good movie to watch.
Cashea’s gaze found its way to the bar. Draven was still there. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. The rest of their set, he hadn’t turned back around. She’d paid attention to him to see if he would decide to watch her sing again, but he hadn’t. She had felt slight disappointment but wasn’t sure why. He never did, and now that he had once, what did she expect? Him to watch the entire show, clap and dance along with them?
She snorted at the notion.
She seriously doubted Draven danced, much less knew the songs she and the girls performed.
With a wave to Danny, she headed out of the Hen House. The night sky in South Dakota was absolutely breathtaking. It was dark and appeared as if someone had purposely painted the stars in their exact alignments. She stared up and inhaled the fresh air. One couldn’t get this type of thing in the city. The short time she’d lived in the city, the sky just never seemed so clear, and the air wasn’t asfresh. The entire time she’d lived in the city, she’d missed the small-town life.
Cashea held on to the strap of her bag while she made her way across the parking lot. Laughter rang out from a group of people congregating near a row of pickup trucks. She headed toward where her small SUV was parked. Her vehicle came into sight, and she frowned, pausing a few feet from it.
“What the hell?” she murmured. She stared at the white SUV. The back windshield had the word ‘bitch’ painted on it, and her poor truck leaned to one side. She scurried over to it, fear mounting inside her. She arrived at her truck and took in that both of the tires on the passenger side were slashed. Every ounce of air was gone from them. She bent down to assess the front one and saw a wicked gash in the rubber. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
She waved a hand in frustration and stood back up. No one seemed to be paying her any attention. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who had done this to her truck.
Brett.
There couldn’t be anyone else who would do this to her. She did a quick walk around her truck and didn’t see anything broken off it. The doors were still locked. Sheunlocked them with her key fob and quickly jumped inside to make sure nothing was missing. Everything was still in place. Her spare change she left in the empty cup holder, her phone’s charging cord, and even the pack of gum she’d left on the passenger seat.
“Just great,” she groaned. She didn’t get paid until next week and would not be able to cover the cost of a tow and two brand-new tires. She leaned her head back on the rest and blew out a frustrated breath. From what she remembered of what was in her bank account, she might be able to swing the tow and tires, but then that would mean no gas for the car and certainly no buying groceries until she got paid again.
She grabbed her pack of gum and tossed it into her bag and got out of her SUV. She locked the truck and headed back to the bar.
“Forget something?” Ted asked, stepping outside the bar. The bouncer stood by the door and folded his arms in front of his chest.
“Nope. Someone just decided to slash two of my tires,” she announced with the fakest smile she could rustle up. Her anxiety level was through the roof. How could he do this to her? Just because she didn’t want to go on a date with him? Was thissupposed to make her change her mind? If he thought that, then he had another think coming.
“What?” He scowled. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m just fine. It’s not like I wanted to go home and chill. Now I need to call for a Uber and maybe I can get one in the next few hours,” she grumbled.
“Here, let me call the police. We can file a report?—”
“It’s pointless, Ted,” she said. It truly was. By the time the police came out it would probably be morning. In a small town on a weekend, if it wasn’t an emergency, it was going to have to wait. A vandalized car was not top priority for the sheriff and deputies. Just like calling for an Uber. There weren’t that many ridesharing drivers in their town, and for the ones who were operating, it would take them forever to arrive. She would call the police in the morning and file a report.
