Page 8 of A Hot Sauce Halloween

Three

Jake

I hadn’t spentmuch time at Ryan’s House before meeting Anna. I knew about it. Mostly everyone in Boston knows about the bar but usually only because of its adjacent location to the Muffin Top bakery.

Now that I’m among the Silvas, I spend a lot of time here and I’ve come to appreciate the old-fashioned charm of the place. It has a healthy amount of regulars — from college students to retirees — that always seem to be coming and going. It never quite sleeps, not unlike the brother and sister duo who own it: Tommy and Evey Ryan.

Tommy greets me as soon as I walk in the door with a wave and a smile. He holds a spool of bright orange lights in his other hand, the line traveling upward to Vincent standing above him over the bar. Vincent staples the lights in place, giving the entire place a healthy Halloween glow that makes me a little nostalgic.

“Hey, guys,” I say.

Vincent glances down and gives a short nod, but says nothing.

“Evey said you guys might need an extra hand,” I add.

Tommy smiles and flicks his head, whipping his blond bangs to the side to see better. “Hell yeah, man. We’re just getting started. Grab a box of spiderwebs from the back, will ya?”

I move around the bar and enter the backroom. There’s a mountain of Halloween decorations stacked up the wall, everything from light-up witches to capsules of fake blood to bags of candy and pumpkins just waiting to be carved…

I grin. Best holiday ever.

Vincent follows me in and hands me the staple gun. “Hey,” he says.

He hasn’t said much more than that to me since Anna and I announced our engagement. Unless it’s work-related, of course. It’s hard to avoid the guy running your bakery’s second location but I’ll be damned if Vincent hasn’t tried. Anna says that’s just Vincent. A man of few words. I think it’s more than that.

He doesn’t like me with Anna.

I set the staple gun down on a box of fake spiderwebs. “Place is looking pretty good already,” I say. “I heard you guys like to go all out around here.”

Vincent nods and pulls open a box labeled smoke machine.

The air fills with the murmurs of patrons behind us and light thumping of music from the jukebox. I should try and push through this. Try and find some way of connecting with him that doesn’t include cookie recipes or orders for coffee filters.

I clear my throat. “So, what’s the deal with Anna and Halloween?” I ask.

Vincent looks up with a flash of amusement. “Anna and Halloween?”

“She hates it, apparently.”

“Oh.” His lips twitch. “Did she say why?”

“Just that her job is scary enough and she doesn’t need a holiday to remind her of it.”

He nods and hums softly.

I tilt my head. “Is that not true?”

“Well, it’s not untrue,” he says.

“Okay…”

“Anna hasn’t bothered with Halloween since the incident.”

I pause. “What incident?”

He inhales to answer but lets it back out. “Never mind.”

“Wait, hold on…” I chuckle. “Is this something I need to know about?”

---