Page 43 of The Holy Grail

The bartender

Jules felt a little prickle of awareness on the back of her neck, and looked around, taking in the crowds of Saturday afternoon shoppers at the Farmer’s Market.

She and Malcom had grabbed iced coffees in honor of the warm spring day, and had walked over to pick out some fresh fruits and vegetables from the numerous vendors for meals he was planning to make during the week.

It was something he did every weekend when the market was open, and she found herself enjoying the excursion very much, mainly because it felt like such a ‘couple’ thing to do (who knew being a couple was so much fun?), but also because she was learning about new things to eat, which she’d never heard of.

Like … fennel.

“Actually, why don’t you grab two,” Malcom said, as she pretended to know what she was doing while looking through the selection of fennel bulbs, which looked like alien vegetables, with a white base and several green ‘stems’ growing out of the top.

She hadn’t known they were called ‘bulbs’ until she saw the card identifying them as such, and also hadn’t known they smelled faintly like black licorice.

Handing them to him, she asked, “What are you going to do with these?”

“They’re going in a sausage and shrimp cioppino,” he replied.

“Hmm, that sounds delicious.”

“It is. You’re going to love it.”

“I’m sure I will, especially after you tell me what a cioppino is.”

He grinned at her. “It’s an Italian American stew. ”

“Then why not just call it a stew, instead of being pretentious?”

He took the insult in stride. “Because a cioppino is specifically made with seafood, tomatoes, and wine.”

“Ooh, wine,” she said. “I’m sure I will love it, then.”

He pulled her in for a kiss, uncaring of the people around them. “I hope so.”

Jules felt that same prickling sensation on the back of her neck, and after Malcom released her, she turned to check out the shoppers again.

This time, her gaze met a pair of chocolate-brown eyes, which were filled with a combination of shock and disbelief, with a touch of This really fucking sucks big, hairy balls .

She hadn’t seen Evan since the bar meeting several weeks ago, and the unexpected sighting was like a quick sucker punch to the face.

As they stared at one another, she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in jeans and a T-shirt …

a Pink Floyd T-shirt identical to the one she’d picked out for Malcom on their shopping expedition, which he also happened to be wearing that day.

Weirdly, it was the matching shirts which had Jules hoping Evan would simply turn and walk away, and for a moment, he seemed to read her mind and actually did turn away.

Her relief was short-lived, however, when he pivoted back around and began to make his way toward her and Malcom, with purpose.

“Oh, shit,” she murmured.

“What’s wrong?” Malcom asked.

Instead of directly answering him, Jules said, “Let me handle this.”

“Handle what?”

Evan had come to a stop a few feet away, his expression having settled on This really fucking sucks big, hairy balls .

Malcom stiffened, and she attributed his reaction to the fact that a man (an obviously upset one at that) was now directly in their path, blocking their way.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” Evan said to Jules, foregoing any attempt at a polite greeting.

“Evan—”

“That’s the guy you’re seeing?” he asked, with a sharp head tilt toward Malcom. “Really?”

She stared at him, her chest tight as she saw the extent of his pain at seeing her with another man.

She hadn’t wanted the introduction to play out like this—or so soon—but apparently it was going to.

“Yes,” she told him softly, as if a gentle tone was going to make the news any easier to hear. “This is—”

He cut her off with a raised hand. “Thanks, but I don’t need an introduction,” he said, his mouth pressing into a flat line as his gaze drifted over to Malcom once again, this time with grim resignation.

A heaviness seemed to hang in the air between the three of them, and Jules could only stand there like a frozen statue, with Malcom equally stiff beside her.

Then, with a slight shake of his head, Evan muttered, “This is just fucking perfect ,” before abruptly stepping around them and walking away, without looking back.

Jules’ heart was pounding at the awkward and emotional encounter, which, although very short, had sucked the life out of her, leaving her feeling … bereft.

“I’m sorry about that,” she told Malcom, who appeared a little shell-shocked himself.

“Is he ... a friend of yours?”

“Yes. I met him on Paige’s birthday two years ago,” she answered. “He’s also David’s best friend—the one I told you about when we were clothes shopping.”

Malcom thought back to that night in the dressing room at Macy’s and tried to recall what she’d said. “The bisexual friend?”

“Yes.”

“The one you said was …” he trailed off to give her a pointed look, before finishing with, “really hot?”

She nodded.

“You said you’d thought about dating him but didn’t because he was off limits.”

She nodded again.

“But if he hadn’t been off limits like you’d thought he was, you would have.”

“Yes.”

Malcom mulled that over, now having a name and a very attractive face to attach to a conversation. “He obviously really likes you.”

“Yes. When I told him I was seeing someone, he wasn’t happy about it, and it’s been awkward between us since then.” She cleared her throat, then added, “Especially while I was working for him.”

He tilted his head. “You were working for him? When?”

“Recently. He co-owns the bar, Three Amigos, with his brother and sister, and I’ve been going through the books for the past few months.”

Malcom slowly nodded his head as a few puzzle pieces fell into place. “All those late nights. That’s where you were. ”

“Yes. At first I had to go in only when Evan was working, because he didn’t want his brother and sister to know what I was doing, but after the bar meeting …

” she trailed off for a second. “After the bar meeting, he texted it was hard to be around me and switched my schedule to when his sister was working, so he and I wouldn’t come in contact with one another. ”

“Was that why you were so upset when you got to my place that day?”

“Yes. He was having a hard time, and it was difficult to know I was basically the cause. Knowing how much I’d hurt him, even inadvertently, hurt me .”

After staring at her for a long moment, he said slowly, “You care about him, don’t you?”

Jules nodded, her eyes prickling a little. “Yes, I do.”

With a heavy sigh, he took her face in his hands, the almost-forgotten fennel pressed between them. “Remember the story about Gwen, me, and the bartender?” he asked.

“Of course. It was only a couple days ago,” she replied.

Malcom stood there, simply looking at her, and as the weird silence settled over them, she began to frown, only to have her eyes widen as a few of his words and phrases bubbled to the surface of her brain.

Charismatic.

Charming.

He had that ‘it’ factor.

Jules had said she knew someone like that … and as her gaze shifted over in the direction Evan had gone, her heart skipped a few beats, then started thundering away. “Evan was the bartender, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” Malcom swallowed hard. “Which means you and I will need to have another conversation.”

She turned to face him once more, finding his expression guarded and a little troubled, giving her the impression the conversation they’d need to have had the potential to be uncomfortable. “Okay.”

“Not today, though,” he said. “I need a little time to work through some … things.”

She could tell he legitimately needed some space, so she quickly agreed. “All right. We’ll have that conversation when you’re ready.”