You tug and pull at the uncomfortable dress the bar owner had stuck you in, trying desperately to conceal more of your cleavage, but the cut made it impossible to do so. You felt disgusting, like a showpiece, put on display for the alcoholic eyes to stare at you.
But you had no other choice. Your late father’s debt at the bar had to be paid somehow, and if working for the nasty old man that ran the place secured your financial situation, you’d do it. No one else would give you work, thanks to your father’s terrible reputation. It wouldn’t be the first time you cursed his grave.
The bar was packed tonight, drunken and lecherous men hollering and hooting all over the place. The pianist in the corner tapped out a ragtime tune, keeping the bar-goers happy and the night alive. Other prostitutes mingled among the crowd, sitting in the laps of red-faced patrons who laughed way too loud at terrible jokes.
You gently fanned yourself with your frilly hand fan, hoping that you could get through the night without attracting the attention of any men. You’d gotten lucky so far, the two men who’d attempted to take you to bed had both passed out before you could get to the act itself, leaving you without the need to pleasure them as they requested of you.
But your luck would run out at some point, and to make a profit and pay off the debt your father left you with, you’d need to make some tough choices sooner or later.
A rough hand on your arm startles you. “Best get out there, if you’re to pay off your father’s debt, Miss Y/N.”
The owner’s hot breath and quiet threat in your ear made you shiver. He shoved you towards the floor of patrons, practically stomping his way back behind the bar to attend to his lively customers. You sent him a withering glad, almost wishing he’d see it.
It took effort to plaster on a pleasant smile, walking the spaces between the tables where men tipped their chairs back and lounged around talking with their companions. Thankfully, most were too engrossed in their conversation to pay you any mind, but not everyone, unfortunately.
“Well…look at you, beautiful.” A voice called, right before you felt a hand give your rear a smack through the fabric of the dress.
You turn, spotting the red-headed man giving you a smile and a wink from his seat at the table. He’s handsome, at least, unlike most of the rather unsavory figures you typically saw come through. A cowboy, by the looks of him. Still, you weren’t impressed with his method of getting your attention. You’d slap him, but you had a debt to pay.
“Who, me?” You say, feeling quite ridiculous for acting so coy.
“I don’t see anyone quite so enchantin’ around here other than you.” Was his cheesy compliment, gesturing to the empty seat at the table he occupied. “Why don’t you join us, darlin’?”
You eyed the other men he was sitting with, finding them all decent enough not to immediately stare at your chest. So, against your better judgement, you hiked your skirt up and sat comfortably.
“Fancy yourself a gambler?” He asked, gesturing to the table where a game of poker was being set up between them. “I promise I’ll go easy if it’s your first time.”
Your eyebrows rose, glancing between the table and the man who’d offered to deal you in. This was not the sort of companionship you’d expected when he’d welcomed you to his table, but it beat the reason most beckoned you over for a hundred times over.
“I suppose one game won’t hurt.” You glance in the direction of the bar owner, wondering if he had noticed that you weren’t exactly putting yourself on offer for the men you sat with. He was too busy chatting up some of the regulars to look your way, though.
The redhead noticed your gaze and followed where you stared. He turned back and stuck a thumb at the bar owner. “He gonna cause problems?”
“Maybe…not sure.” You say truthfully, allowing his companions to deal you in. “But I could use a distraction, truth be told.”
The redhead gave you a smile, settling into his wooden seat more comfortably as the game began.
You were familiar with poker. Watching your drunk father play with the soldiers he deserted with for years gave you some knowledge of how to play, and some tricks that novices wouldn’t exactly know. And by now, you felt you had a pretty good poker face.
You didn’t have anything to wager, but the gray-haired fellow had given you some chips to play, graciously taken from his own pile. You gave him an appreciative smile, becoming more glad by the moment that you’d decided to sit with these men.
“Don’t mind me sayin’, Miss, but…you look a little out of place around here.” One of the redhead’s companions spoke up, a sharp-eyed and dark-skinned man who sat across the table from you. He carried a lazy expression under his wide-brimmed hat. “You’ve got clear eyes, and I bet a good head on your shoulders. Not many prostitutes do.”
“I was thinkin’ the same thing.” The flirty redhead said, his attention directing your way once more. He set his cards down to grab some chips off the table to put in the pot, and it was then that you noticed he had only one arm, the left sleeve of his shirt empty and loose.
“Not my choice.” You decide to speak candidly, thinking it would be nice to get it off your chest, even to a group of strangers. Somehow, you felt like you could trust them, even the handsy one. There was an honesty in their eyes you couldn’t describe.
“Working off my father’s bar tab.” You say, putting a few of your chips on the table. “Only been here a week or so.”
“Your pa can’t be bothered to work?” The gray-haired one asked with derision.
“He’s six feet under, rottin’ in a wood box.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. He was a mean son of a bitch.” You snort, eyes drifting back and forth on your hand, wondering to yourself what you should discard. “I’m better off with him dead and gone. Didn’t expect to be saddled with his drinkin’ debt, though.”
“How much’re you under?”
“$300, and Arthur is keen on remindin’ me of that every day.” Your withering glance his direction isn’t missed by the table. “But I’ll survive. Didn’t ever need him, had to raise myself. I’ll manage.”
“Hmm.” The redhead gave you a perplexing stare, before turning back to the cards in his hand. You weren’t sure what that look meant, but you decided to forget it and go back to the game of poker. You were almost having fun.
Of course, you knew it would have been too good to be true that Arthur didn’t realize you weren’t meandering the saloon like you were supposed to.
A presence coming up behind you, and a vice-like hand settling on your shoulder told you exactly who was there.
“Gentlemen, I apologize that my working girl isn’t providing the service she was hired for.” Arthur’s honey-sweet laden words said, always mindful of his customers. You knew the moment he got you somewhere behind closed doors, you’d get the worst verbal lashing he could dole out. “Her prices tonight are discounted, for the inconvenience.”
His fingers dug a little harder into your shoulder, making you wince. Even if he couldn’t tell you how absolutely livid he was, he made sure you knew with full clarity.
“No apology needed, mister. On the contrary, you’re the one interrupting our game. We were havin’ a mighty fine time with your gal here.” The redhead said with a condescending smile, polite enough to pass as socially acceptable, but the mirth in his eyes made it obvious he was laughing at Arthur.
“Unfortunately, these’re her working hours. I’ll have to ask you to continue your game once the bar is closed.” He said, anger beginning to seep through his tone.
“Well, now, I plan on leavin’ town long before then. Sure seems realinconvenient to cut my entertainment short.” The man continued, glancing around at his companions. The bar atmosphere had quieted as events unfolded, everyone wanting to know what was happening. “Makes a fella wonder if he’s actually welcome here.”
“Of course you are, sir, but-”
“Then how ‘bout a wager?” He offered up, gesturing to the table. “If I win, she stays and finishes the rest of our game together. You win, and I let Miss-?” He looked to you for your name.
“Y/N.”
“-Miss Y/N here get back to her work, and I won’t say another word about it.”
Arthur sputtered. “Oh, now this is just ridiculous. I’m not wagering on whether my working girl does what I’m paying her to do!”
“’s far as I’m aware, you ain’t payin’ her at all, what with that debt you’re hangin’ over her head.”
“What I do is none of your business.” Arthur’s aggression had grown, enough so that the rest of the bar were silent, watching the exchange with interest. His facade of being kind and welcome had faded to show his anger. He jabbed a finger out the door, taking a step forward. “Now I suggest you leave 'fore I have you tossed out.”
You watch as the men at the redhead’s table bristled, hands automatically lowering to their weapons at their sides. Arthur took his step back, realizing that provoking them further may mean more trouble than was worth it.
“Then let’s raise the stakes. Beat me in a hand and I’ll pay Y/N’s debt off in full and be on my way.”
You swung your head to look at him, and he sent you a confident wink. You were speechless. who was this man? Why was he so willing to pay your debt? Part of you was outraged that he’d proclaim that sort of thing without even asking you first, but the other part was hopeful of the prospect of being able to walk away from the bar with your dignity and purity intact.
This wager got Arthur’s attention. His blustering stopped, and you swear you could hear a pin drop in the room. He glanced at you, then at the redhead, before narrowing his eyes. “And if I lose? What do you gain?”
He gave a wolf-like grin in return, confidence exuded out of every pore of his body. “She comes with me, and you eat the debt her father’s racked up.”
“Wha-?” Your mouth hangs open, and the whole saloon begins to whisper among themselves. You pin the man with a harsh glare. “I never agreed to this!”
He only spared you a brief glance before looking back up at Arthur, who was rubbing his chin in deep thought. “So? Should we deal you in?”
You snarl as you stand from your chair. “You conivin’, bottom-feedin’-”
“Fine. You’ve got a deal.” Arthur said, dragging you from the chair and sitting where you had just been a moment ago.
“No!”
“Benn, if you will?” The redhead said pleasantly, gesturing to you with a wave of his one hand. He’d grown serious again, facing his opponent across from the table.
“Come on, Miss. Best not to disturb them.” The gray-haired man said, gently directing you to sit in a nearby empty chair, close enough to watch but far enough away that you couldn’t interfere.
“I’m stoppin’ this bet-”
“Can’t now.” He said, sitting at the table with you. “They’ve already dealt the hand. And once Shanks wants something, he gets what he wants.”
“I ain’t going anywhere with no man.”
Benn didn’t bother responding, but at least you’d stopped resisting. Sitting with crossed arms, you waited for the result of whatever the hand would be.
Truthfully, you weren’t sure which option was worse. Sure, if this Shanks man lost he’d pay Arthur her debt, but he never specified that she could leave the saloon. Arthur may just force her to stay out of spite. Or kill her, if he was feeling publicly embarrassed enough.
And she knew nothing of this man or his companions. Just because they’d treated her nice until the bet was introduced didn’t mean they were good men.
One thing was for sure, you were stuck with a devil either way.
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