Nomad

By: Sam Crescent

Chapter One



Cole Fowler climbed off his bike and stared up at the large bar a couple of feet ahead of him. The grounds were filled with college students and men, along with women of varying age who didn’t attend college. At thirty years old, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with pissy school kids. That’s what they were, pissy and school kids. Looking back at his bike, Cole knew he didn’t have a choice. The machine he loved so much was in need of some repair, and he needed to eat. Stealing from stores for food was not something he was into. He didn’t mind hard work, but he wasn’t the kind of man to settle down in one place.

He was a nomad, moving from place to place never settling down. For the next month or two he’d need to stay here in the city to make some money to repair his bike and earn enough to eat. First, he was going to have a nice long drink before finding out the name of the manager at the bar. Once he scored a job he was getting himself some pussy for the night. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d taken any snatch, and he was in desperate need of relief. Joining a club would probably be easier. During the last ten years since he’d decided to quit conforming to what society wanted of him and make up his own code, he’d been offered a patch in The Skulls and Chaos Bleeds. Both clubs were great, but he didn’t want to be part of a brotherhood. This was about him and being alone. He liked not having to make choices or watch others’ backs. Cole was that selfish. He didn’t use to be, but life was easier not to have any connections.

On the way into the bar he noticed many of the women staring at him. He was used to that as well.

As he opened the door, smoke, music, and noise filled every one of his senses. The college kids were chugging down rounds of cheap beer while the adults were drinking spirits or wine. Cole liked the bar on sight, especially the pool table in the corner surrounded by boys in the same style jacket. Jocks. Rolling his eyes, he went straight for the bar and took the only available seat. Within two minutes a blonde was sitting next to him, asking his name.

“Piss off, sugar. I’m not here for company.”

He wasn’t interested in blondes. Brunettes had always been his thing. Staring behind the bar he saw two men and one woman serving up. The two men were the same age as he was while the woman looked younger. She was laughing and smiling at some of the other college kids.

“Come on, Sandy, have some fun with us.”

The brunette with a tightly held ponytail shook her head. “Sorry, you’ve got no chance. You’re drunk, and I have three classes with your girlfriend, Tony. Go and bug someone else.” She waved him off, giving him change and moving off to the next guy.

Watching her, he noticed that she wiped her hands after touching each customer’s hand. He didn’t know whether to feel insulted for his fellow customers or be happy she was concerned over her health. Maybe she was a little OCD, which was why she went to extreme cleaning methods. Wiping hands constantly on a towel in a bar always felt a little extreme to him.

“What can I get you, sir?” Sandy asked, staring at him.

“Whiskey, no ice and make it your good stuff.” Her eyes were a mesmeric shade of green. Cole didn’t want to look away from her.

“Here you go.” She told him the amount, and she took the money from him.

Sandy typed in the amount on the cash register, took the correct change out after putting his note inside. She came back, handed him the change, then wiped her hands on the cloth. On closer inspection the cloth looked partially damp.

“Who’s your manager, doll?”

“Rick, behind me with the red hair. He owns this place with his brother, Trey, but Rick’s the man you want to see for anything.” She moved onto the next customer not giving him more attention than the others. For the next hour he observed her, taking in more about her person than anyone else. He saw the fuller curves that a lot of women hated in this day and age. Her tits were large with her cleavage on display. The black top she wore molded to her curves like a second skin. The jeans showed off her shapely ass, and on her feet she wore a pair of white sneakers. She was casual and ready for anything. None of the men got past her with mild flirtation, and she wouldn’t let any man touch her for any length of time.

Top Books