A Hand of Spades

Chapter 6. Safehouse

The safehouse is a small wood cabin with a wide front porch. Cash's boots stomp up the front steps and he pulls open the screen door, gesturing for me to go ahead in a mock-gentlemanly sweep of his arm. I was expecting something rundown, but as I step inside I'm surprised to see it's been well maintained. The hardwood is old, but clean. There's a stone fireplace to my left, a cozy looking green gingham sofa and a TV. The kitchen is towards the back, next to a door that he informs me leads to a small deck. 

This place is nicer than my trailer.

"Bedrooms and bathroom are on the right. Yours is the one towards the back." He says, shuffling immediately to the fridge for a beer. "I know you're tired, but Doc'll be quick, I promise."

I plunk down wincingly on the sofa, jostling my shoulder slightly. It's worn, but comfortable, nicer than the one I'm used to sleeping on.

"Want a drink?" He asks.

Scotch would be nice. 

The urge to soothe my nerves is a strong, but with no food in my belly, I'm liable to get hammered after one sip.

"Just water."

He sets a glass down on the coffee table in front of me. It's cool against the scraped skin of my palm. I gulp it all down in one go, feeling his eyes on me. I must look like a wild animal; beaten, starved, and thirsty. I keep wishing he'll say something, crack the quiet open so it doesn't feel so strained. 

"What'll happen to the Stella?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you want the Stella. Why?"

He shrugs. "The income."

I chew nervously on my lip. "The girls there"-

"We won't throw them out on their asses. If they want the work, they can stay."

I exhale shakily, satisfied with that answer. Where else would we even go? There aren't any other jobs in Throckmorton that pays like the Stella does.  With Hoyt out of the picture, we could keep the majority of our earnings instead of forking them over as protection money.

Unless the Black Spades are interested in that too.  Cash hasn't been revealing about his true intentions for wanting Hoyt gone. No doubt the drugs and the Stella are lucrative, but what if we throw Hoyt out of Throckmorton and then owe the Black Spades protection money instead?

"Listen," I begin, but the door bangs open and a woman enters dressed in green scrubs. She looks like she must be in her early thirties, with light bronze hair swept up in a bun and sharp, elegant features.

"This the patient?" She asks, pointing at me. Cash nods and she comes over, kneeling in front of the couch. "Mind if I take a look at your shoulder?"

"Please." I say, suddenly feeling a little shy as she gestures for me to remove my shirt. Cash stands and averts his gaze as the woman helps unwrap the sling and slip the t-shirt over my head. Something about a female presence is a little comforting, but I wonder what a medical professional is doing making house calls for the Black Spades - especially at this hour.

She pokes and prods at a few sore spots, apologizing as I wince. 

"Have you put much weight on it since it came out of socket?" She asks.

"I tried not to." I glance up at Cash, whose face has paled slightly. "It got pulled backwards."

She winces. "Christ, that must have hurt."

"The pain's gone down a bit now that it's back in place."

She shoots Cash a glare so intense I can practically feel the heat of it. "Just because I showed you how you could set a shoulder doesn't mean you should do it yourself."