Page 8 of Whiskey Neat

Ridley has changed the most, looks wise. Gone are his unruly locks of many colors, traded for a very normal haircut in a natural shade. He’s still wild though, and I find it very comforting. Bane and Jerryn are tight like usual, and while Bane mostly looks the same, just more mature, it’s Jerryn who’s had the biggest glow up of the group. He was cute before, bookish and sweet looking, but he’s shed his glasses, upgraded his wardrobe, and obviously spent some time in the gym. There’s still a boyish quality to his face that makes him look approachable though.

It’s not like we haven’t seen each other over the years, it just hasn’t been yearly like we all hoped for. Life takes over and time passes quickly, but our bond never broke. Obviously, since all these fools took me up on my insane idea.

“So I brainstormed some ideas last night,” Ridley announces. “For a name.”

I nod with interest. “I’m open. I’ve been stumped.”

Ridley jumps up on the bar, reminding us all of his past shenanigans. He opens his arms like he can see the marquee in front of him. “Moby’s.”

Lowen huffs while Kit and I look confused. Bane nods and Jerryn grins.

“Am I missing something?” I ask. “What’s the significance?”

“Oh my god, Indy,” Ridley says. “I thought you were more than a pretty face.”

Rolling my eyes, I wave my hand in a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “Explain.”

“Moby Dick,” he says slowly. “We met in English Lit. We bonded over our group project.”

“So you want us to name our gay bar after a classic novel?” Kit asks. “Random.”

“You guys are so thick.” Ridley jumps down. “Moby Dick.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” I say.

Ridley shakes his head, but Jerryn jumps in. “I get it, Rid. It’s a gay bar. There’s dick here.”

“Exactly. Jesus Christ, it’s not that fucking hard.”

“Will other people even get that connection?” Kit asks.

“They will with our tagline,” Ridley says. “No white whales but plenty of dick.”

I nearly choke on my own spit. Lowen scoffs while the others laugh.

“Absolutely not.” I shake my head. “We can’t be that blatant here.”

“Wait.” Lowen digs in his messenger bag and pulls out a notebook. “Give me a minute.”

We all watch him scribble on a sheet of paper, looking up every few seconds before returning his gaze to the notebook. When he flips it around, he’s drawn the outline of a whale with a water spray in rainbow colors. Across the whale’s body it says Moby’s Bar and under it, “No Whales, Just D (drinks, obviously).”

Lowen grins. “I think it works. It’s tongue in cheek without being too raunchy. The alphabet mafia will know it’s for us because of the rainbow. What do you guys think?”

Huh. He’s got me there. “Well damn. It does work.”

Ridley blows on his nails with a gloating smile on his face.

The front door opens, and I’m expecting Oakley and his crew, but instead it’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. The sun shining behind him makes him look like some kind of angel, and my jaw drops. Am I dreaming?

“Uh, hi.” He steps inside.

I hear voices, conversation being exchanged, but my brain is still stuck on the man’s face. He’s a little thing, probably no taller than five-five or five-six and I’d guess he weighs a buck fifty soaking wet. His hair is golden brown, styled perfectly with not a single flyaway strand, and as his big blue eyes settle on me, he licks gloss covered lips. He might be talking, but I can’t hear a damn word.

Someone elbows me in the ribs, snapping me out of it. I turn to look at Kit, who’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “This guy wants to know what this is gonna be and if we’re going to be hiring.”

I nod, staring at the stranger but apparently unable to form words. Jesus.

“Uh, I’m Lowen. This is Kit, Ridley, Bane, Jerryn, and our fearless and apparently tongue-tied leader, Indy.”

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