Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

Past the shop is a long street, homes and dilapidated mansions of the old
landowners, before they lost their land to St. Carmen, sitting hidden among
the trees.
Liv stops the bike, a flurry of activity in every direction in the Bay. Lights
decorate Mariette’s where groups of men and families enjoy dinner and
beers, and the doors to the auto shop are open, their lights shining and
“Crimson and Clover” pouring out from inside.
I hop off the bike and immediately head for the bar. “I need a condom
from the men’s room.”
But before she even turns off the bike, she reaches out and grabs my arm.
“Not from in there.”
Why?
I cock my head. “Get your hands off me. You agreed to this.” Or better
yet… “You offered this.”
She holds my eyes for another moment and then finally releases me.
“Fuck it.” She shakes her head, parking the bike. “Go.”
Pivoting on my heel, I pull out my phone and bring up the list in my
Notes. I hear her footfalls after me, but I make it to the door before she can
change her mind and grab me again.
I pull open the wooden door, some kind of classic rock playing inside as
the smell of cigarettes, fried food, and rotting wood hits me.
People turn and look, two ladies shooting darts, a few people at the bar,
and two pool tables filled with guys who clearly didn’t shower after work
today. I pause for a moment, taking in the red neon lighting around the bar
and the plywood tables, their veneer chipped and surrounded by mismatched
chairs. I immediately picture my mother, clutching her handbag and refusing
to sit for fear of staining her white blouse.
The bartender—a skinny, bleached blonde with black roots, dressed in a
black T-shirt with some kind of tattoo around the outside of her eye narrows
her gaze. “Liv, what are you doing?” she asks, sounding more like a warning
than a question.
“She needs to, uh, use the bathroom,” Liv tells her, humor in her tone.
The woman takes me in for another moment and then sighs, waving her
hand. She resumes counting her register.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” I mutter over my shoulder. “I know
Sanoa Bay made their own list tonight. What’s on yours?”
She doesn’t respond, and I don’t look back. Starting off, I spot a hallway