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Forty-two
Conner
This is my first night back behind the bar since what Tess lovingly refers to as my episode and I have a feeling if not for the fact that every college kid in New England will at one point or another pass-through Gilroy’s door tonight, I’d still be riding the bench.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cap’n says, confirming my suspicions, his eyes narrowed while he gives me a critical once-over. “If you’re not up to it, Dec and I can—”
I stop slicing limes and look at him. “Fuck off.” Despite the harsh words, I make sure my tone is friendly. Picking a fight with my cousin is the last thing I want to do tonight. “I grew up behind this bar, remember?” I flash him a grin and point the tip of my knife toward the floor. “I built my first Guinness when I was nine, standing right here—” I nod and resume my task, slicing limes like my life depends on it. “I think I can manage to jerk the taps and operate the mixer gun for a few hours.”
The truth is, I feel good. Better than I have a right to feel considering I haven’t drank, fucked, or fought anything in over two weeks. Even though I get why, I understand his suspicion. “Look, if you don’t want me here, I can call my buddy, Logan. He’s an experienced bartender and could use the money.”
Cap’n considers me for a second, giving me a long look like he’s trying to figure out who I am and where his cousin went. Finally, he nods. “You want college girl specials?” It’s my station. The one I always work. Last Halloween, I was a kid in a candy store. Tonight, the prospect of fielding a couple hundred women holds about as much excitement for me as a root canal.
“Sure.” I shrug. “Whatever you need, man.”
That earns me another long, analytical stare. I scoop up the limes I’ve sliced and divide them equally between the garnish stations while fighting the urge to tell him to fuck off again. The weird thing is that it’d probably make him feel better if I did.
“Call your buddy and tell him to come in,” Patrick says. “The three of us are gonna need all the help we can get.”
Four hours later and the place is packed. Like I-hope-to-Christ-the-fire-marshal-doesn’t-swing-by-and-start-counting packed. I’ve run through a couple of cases of Malibu and the tip jar is so full, the floor behind the bar is littered with change and dollar bills.
For my part, I smile. I wink. I flirt. I mix cocktails. I stay behind the bar and keep my dick to myself.
“Is it always like this?”
I look up and over, shooting Logan a grin. He’s only been here a few hours but so far, things are running smooth. So smooth, Cap’n pulled Declan from behind the bar and put him on the door to try to thin the crowd a little.
“It’s been worse.” I tilt a bottle of Jameson over a row of rocks glasses, speed-pouring whiskey down the line, emptying the bottle. “You should see finals week.”
“I can imagine.” Logan laughs, righting the pitcher he has angled under the tap. “Think this might parlay into a regular gig?”
I know he can use the work. His older brother is some big-time, New York billionaire. As far as he’s concerned, Logan’s run off and joined the circus. “What? Did big brother cut off your allowance?”
Logan laughs because he knows I’m just fucking with him. His brother keeps sending money and he keeps ignoring it. There’s got to be a couple hundred thousand dollars’ worth of personal checks floating around his apartment.
Before he can tell me to fuck off, Declan appears on the other side of the bar. He looks like he can’t decide if he wants to throw up or start ripping people apart. “What are you doing over here?” I say, handing the round of sours across the bar to a witch and her friends, a mermaid and an angel, all of who keep looking at me. Ignoring them I focus on my brother. “Who’s on the door, fuckstick?”
“Fuck the door,” he says, barely getting the words out his jaw is clenched so tight. “I need you to come with me. Right now.” When I don’t move he growls at me. “It’s Tess.”
Fuck.
She’s got a big mouth, but she rarely bites off more than she can chew. Most of the assholes in this place know that messing with her is a bad idea—not because I’ve got her back, but because she’s fast on her feet and has a left jab that’d put a grown man on his ass.
I cast a quick look at Logan and he waves me off. “Go. I got this.”
“Thanks, man.” I plant my hands and vault over the bar. Landing next to Declan, I look at him. “Where?”
He jerks his chin at the back of the bar, toward the pool tables and I start weaving my way through the crowd, Dec hot on my heels.
I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening. One of her favorite things to do is hustle drunk college bros at pool. Some poor bastard got his ass handed to him and, seeing her as absolutely no kind of threat, refused to cough it up. She’s probably got the guy in a head lock while mopping the floor with his face.
Expecting to find her going toe-to-toe with some asshole, I stop short, my brain trying to make sense of what I’m really seeing. Tess, more naked than I’ve seen her in my adult life, cozied up to the college bro I was sure I was going to have to pry her off of before someone called the cops.
Not fighting.
Flirting.
Shooting Declan a sharp look, I’m about to ask him what his fucking problem is but he’s so focused on Tess, I could have a bullhorn snuggled up to his ear and he still wouldn’t hear me.