Summary: Sometimes, it sucks being the niece of the wealthiest guy in town. By sometimes, I mean all the time. The new cooler in town doesn't like him any better, but he doesn't know your situation. When he finds out, he tries to make it right.
WC: 1.6k
Warnings: Bar setting, alcohol, Brad hurts reader, language.
Author's note: I've got a migraine; I didn't try that hard.
Masterlist
You drug your feet as Pat gripped your elbow, hauling you into the bar you didn't want to go into. It wasn't a trade you had any interest in, unlike your uncle. He seemed to have a personal vendetta against every single business owner in town. He'd never paid much attention to the Double Deuce-- until it started shaping up, and the new kid turned his attention to his niece.
"Evening, Frank!" Brad chirped in a falsely friendly voice, nodding at the owner. "Busy night?"
"It's only three o'clock," Frank replied. "Not much activity yet."
"Ah, well; they'll come." He sat down at the bar, and his cronies sat around him. You finally managed to pull away from Pat and pressed yourself against the far side of the wall. "Always do these days, don't they?"
"Can I help you with something?" The owner asked, eyeing his new cooler in the corner. "Are you here for a drink?"
"Relax! We're all just here for... a nice, refreshing beer, aren't we?"
His posse nodded. You rolled your eyes. It was never just a nice, refreshing beer. It was always three and some bullshit.
"Ernie, get six lagers," Frank said flatly. He looked to you. "Are you drinking?"
"Just coffee, please," you muttered. "I'll pay separately."
"Nonsense!" Brad exclaimed. "I'm buyin' for everyone. Even you, Dalton; if you're thirsty."
The cooler shook his head. "I don't drink."
He didn't seem to have any emotions, either.
"Well, your loss." Brad took the beer Ernie held out to him. "But more for us, am I right?"
Jimmy started the laughter. The others followed accordingly. It was always Jimmy. He did all the fighting, all the fear mongering; and it sucked, because he looked like one of the Lost Boys, which meant he seemed cool to most girls your age. If only they knew.
"Here's your coffee." Ernie smiled at you. You tried to return it.
"I'll leave you to your business," you mumbled, striding past the bar and over to a small, round table in the corner. Sitting with your back to Uncle Brad wasn't something you did much. He liked to scare, then try to claim it was just a joke; even when you continually raised your voice about it. But turning your back to him now was just another act of defiance; a physical show of your opinions on his latest devious plan.
"So, Ernie. How much is Frankie here payin' ya?" Brad inquired.
Here we go.
You tried your best to tune out the conversation. Of course, it wasn't easy with Brad's voice being as terrible as it was. You just closed your eyes and sipped your bitter coffee, wishing you had sugar but not wanting to ask.
"How's the brew?" Dalton asked, taking up the chair across from you. He set his own mug of coffee down.
"It's all right," you replied. "Could do with a little sugar."
He winced. "We're fresh out of packets. Sorry."
"It's all right. I can handle it." You took another sip, as if to prove it.
"Mind if I ask you something?" He inquired, swirling the coffee but never drinking it.
"Sure."
"What business do you have running with a man like Wesley?" He asked in a lowered tone, leaning in close. "You don't seem like the type to participate in his so-called 'business.'"
"I'm not, and I don't," you explained. "I just happen to live with him."
"Are you his daughter?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "No. Thank God for small miracles. I'm just the niece."
Dalton chuckled too, although he had no reason to. "You don't live with your parents?"
"I never met my dad, and my mom is overseas right now," you answered, taking another swig of your coffee. "She's not due back for another six months."
"That's rough; I'm sorry."
"I'm only sorry that six months goes so slow. I can't wait to be out of this shithole," you mumbled. "Sometimes, I wonder how much a girl can take before she ends up like him." You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder.
Dalton nodded. "I've only known him for a couple weeks, and I'm already sick of him. It's impressive you'd made it this long without swinging on him."
"I wanted to this morning, when he told me about his plan," you admitted. "You know he's not really here for the drinks, right?"
"Doesn't take a fool to know." He sipped his coffee, frowned at it, then sipped again.
"He's going to try to buy out Ernie and put him a bar on the other side of town. I forget what it's called, but it's supposed to be a little more high-end; much more Brad's speed," you said. "He told me he planned to offer triple what Frank paid, but didn't intend to follow through."
Dalton sighed. "Figures. Ernie won't take it, though. He took Pat's job; he'll never seclude himself with him."
"You think?"
"I know."
He sighed, looking at you with a sober expression. "Is Brad at least good to you?"
"He... could be worse, I guess," you concluded, taking a smaller sip of your coffee. It just seemed to be getting worse with every swallow.
"He hurt you?"
You hesitated. You'd never opened up about this before, and you never intended to. That knowledge was something you kept locked away in a box, under a blanket of foundation. Nobody was supposed to know.
"Yes," you whispered. "From time to time. It's worse when I do shit like this." You gestured to your subtle act of defiance. "When I don't go along with his plans."
"...be honest, now: do you need a place to stay tonight?"
"I-- I can't wander too far away. Besides, you're involved with his ex. It would look terrible. You hanging out with his niece and his ex, I mean," you reasoned.
"I don't think Elizabeth would mind if it kept someone safe," Dalton countered. "And every time he hurts you, it risks sending you to the hospital, anyways."
"He doesn't do it that bad--"
"--is what you think. But take it from me; things build up. And when they build up on the inside, where you can't see them, they tend to get out of hand a lot faster."
"..."
"Please." His sharp eyes peered into yours, which had begun to mist over. "Let me give you a little break."
"...all right," you whispered. "What do we tell him?"
"Who? Brad? Easy." Dalton stood up, taking your wrist in his hand. "Frank? I'll be back around five. I've got an errand to run."
"Sounds go--"
"Well, hold up just a minute there!" Brad frowned. "Where are you takin' my niece?"
"We're going out for ice cream," he lied. "it's a nice day, and we've both got a hankering. I'll drop her at your place when we're done."
"A man like you doesn't skip on work just for ice cream," Tinker sneered. "I think he's looking for something... a little sweeter."
Pat snickered. Brad smacked the back of his head, effectively silencing him.
"You best do exactly that, Dalton." Brad stood and sauntered coolly over to him. "I hope you don't have to find out what happens to men that lie to me."
"I won't," Dalton asserted, bumping shoulders with the older man as he walked past, still holding onto you. "Come on. I can't stop thinking about double fudge."
~~~~~~~~
"This is where I sleep." Dalton lead you up the stairs of the barn, up to the loft. "It's not much, but it's all I need."
"It's beautiful," you replied, taking in the warm, orangey color of the wood floor as the sun shone in on it. "Cozy."
"You should see it when it rains," he said. "I like to open the windows and curl up on the couch, and just... listen. Listening is a forgotten art these days, I think."
Your face paled when you looked out the window across the river. "Brad lives there," you whispered. "He might see me."
"Well, see, that's the nice thing." Dalton pulled the window shut and drew the curtain over it. "He doesn't have to."
You nodded uncertainly. This was a nice thing for him to do, especially for someone whose name he didn't even ask for. And for a man who seemed to have to so little trust in everyone. And a nice thing to do in general.
"...thank you, Dalton," you mumbled, although your voice was earnest. "What time do you get off work?"
"Two," he replied. "If you need anything-- food, entertainment, whatever-- go hunt down Emmett. He's got plenty of farmwork to do, and he's got some stories, too, if that's more your speed."
You nodded again. He studied you quietly, then sighed.
"You don't have to be scared, you know," he said as gently as he could. "I'm not sure Brad even knows I live up here."
"What if he does?"
"Let's assume he doesn't. If there's a problem, go over to Emmett. He's got a phone." Dalton strolled back towards the stairs, then gave you a final glance. "Just rest, okay?"
"Yeah."
"All right."
Resting seemed to come easily in Dalton's loft. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was the idea that Brad wasn't across the hall (or the river just yet). Or maybe it was the fact that you were snoozing in the bed of a guy who, supposedly, tore a man's throat out, so you didn't have to worry much about protection. But you were still asleep when he came back, and stayed asleep when Dalton crashed equally as hard on the couch.
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I saw that Postal 4 has a Road House achievement and it gave me an idea... also guess who finally watched Road House [1989]!!! Loved it, it was super gay, Wade and Dalton should've had a make out scene tho, 1/10
