Page 63 of A Quick Buck

“Everyone seems to be resting well?” Alistair noted, carefully stepping over a sleeping man who apparently had decided to pass out in front of the kitchen door.

“Guest rooms are packed too,” Crybaby said. “Most of them buzzed off when we closed the bar, but we still had plenty of sickies.”

Noah stepped around the sleeping man with a frown. “This many people got sick?”

“Some of ‘em, yeah,” Crybaby replied. “Once people started pukin’, a whole bunch more went down.”

Alistair flipped on the kitchen lights and steered Noah over to the elevated bar attached to the center island.

Noah sat on one of the barstools, propping his elbows up on the bar. “Huh. Well, that sucks.”

“Glad to see you’re not feelin’ so green now.”

“Thanks. I’m touched. That was downright thoughtful.”

“You ralphing on Junior was the highlight of my night.” Crybaby grinned. “He got so upset he had to bust out his inhaler.”

“Don’t speak poorly of Junior,” Alistair scolded as he opened up the fridge. “I have it on good authority that the very sight of a blemish being popped will make you vomit, Crybaby.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Star.” Crybaby grimaced as if the mere thought nauseated her. “Ugh. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“Mind the gentleman in front of the door.”

As Alistair pulled out eggs, milk, and bacon, Noah thought back to when he’d watched Crybaby cook a similar meal in front of him. So much had changed since then, and it made him smile.

Especially knowing he got to eat this one.

“So, you cook, you dress nice, you’re wicked good in the sack…” Noah grinned. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Well, I haven’t tried everything yet, so I can’t be sure.” Alistair smirked as he got a frying pan heating on the stove. “I tend to be very focused when I want something, and I spent a lot of time teaching myself the skills and techniques I desired.”

“Like what?”

“Music. I taught myself using a piano that was left behind in the first apartment I ever rented. Reading sheet music came later, but ah, I do so love to play.”

“My dad played.” Noah frowned.

“But not you?” Alistair laid down several strips of bacon into the hot pan and then cracked a few eggs into a bowl with the milk.

“I thought it was lame,” Noah confessed. “He tried to pay for lessons, and well… I guess maybe I was a tiny bit of a brat.”

“You? Never.”

“Ha. Well, I didn’t do the stupid lessons, he gave up trying, and I guess I just never learned anything fancy like that. I mean, I made good grades. I studied when I had to or whatever.” Noah propped his chin in his hand. “But nothing, like, a real skill.”

“I bet you could tell me how many shots of liquor there are in a fifth.”

“Seventeen.” Noah laughed.

“See? There’s hope for you yet. Perhaps a career in bartending.” Alistair flipped the bacon over and went back to mixing up the eggs, adding salt and pepper.

“I pay people to make me drinks, come on.”

“Think it’s beneath you, hmm?”

“Tiny bit. Besides, I’m not exactly worried about the future right now.”

“The future is something you should always be thinking about. You’re very young, Noah. You have so much potential and yet you’re wasting it.”