Page 28 of Just for the Holidays

“Am I going to get murdered?” Nichol whispers, leaning up against Teddy.

“No.” Teddy laughs. “The owner is…family.” He folds his wrist, swinging his hand in the air, mimicking Nichol’s gesture from earlier.

“When did this town get so queer?” Nichol asks.

“It always has been.” Teddy shrugs, peeling his jacket off and draping it over the back of a chair.

Nichol hangs his coat on the next chair at the table.

“C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Gretchen.” Teddy invites Nichol to follow him to the bar.

A burly woman as round as she is short, with spiked candy-red hair, and massive breasts dangling free from any constraints inside her t-shirt, smiles wide as Teddy and Nichol approach.

“Hey, gentlemen.” She arches a dark-brown brow, scanning Nichol from head to toe with crystal-blue eyes. “Who’s your friend, Teddy boy?” Her voice is gravelly.

“Gretchen, this is Nichol.” Teddy pats Nichol’s shoulder. “He’s from here originally but left us behind—for the big city—years ago.”

“Visiting for the holidays, doll?” Gretchen wipes down fresh rinsed beer steins with a rag.

“Yep.” Nichol eyes the shelves of cheap liquor bottles, lining rickety shelves, mounted on the wall behind the bartender.

“He’s helping me out at the shop too,” Teddy adds and smiles.

“I need to pop in for some goods tomorrow.” Gretchen flips the damp rag over her shoulder and folds her arms, squashing her distracting breasts together.

“Write down what you need and I’ll make sure I have everything ready for you.’’

“Will do.” Gretchen flags her index finger. “What can I get you boys?”

“I promised Nichol one of your burgers and some fries, can we get two?” Teddy grins, turning to Nichol. “What should we drink?”

Nichol chews his lip, pondering the unsavory selection of booze. “Hmm… rum and coke?”

“I’ll take whatever you have on draft,” Teddy adds.

“Coming right up.” Gretchen winks at Nichol. She waddles to a red door with a porthole window, too high up for her to see through, swinging it open into the kitchen and bellows, “Hey Joe, whip me up two burgers and some fries.” Returning to her station, she pours one beer for Teddy, and mixes Nichol’s generic rum and fountain cola, with a wedge of lime.

They make their way back to the table and drop into the chairs claimed by their coats. Teddy swigs a long haul of foamy brew and Nichol sips his cocktail, fighting back a wince.

“Phew, that’s strong,” he wheezes with swimmy eyes.

Teddy chuckles, leaning in to whisper. “Gretchen doesn’t skimp on her pours, just on the quality.”

Nichol notices Gretchen watching him and smiles, slugging another sip and holding his glass in the air, to cheers in a salute of acknowledgment.

The fiery bartender nods, with a pleased smile.

“I think I’m scared of her,” Nichol says, through tight lips, so Gretchen can’t read them.

“Don’t be.” Teddy laughs. “She’s a sweetheart under all that bearish grit.”

Their burgers and fries are soon ready, delivered to the bar by the tall thin chef, scurrying out of the kitchen and quickly back into hiding, just as Nichol and Teddy are ready for another round.

Gretchen pours them fresh drinks, having taken visual note of their empty glasses—without bothering to ask—and calls over to their table, “Orders up, boys.”

Teddy pops up off his chair and collects the plates, balancing both on one arm and gripping both drinks between clawed fingers in his other hand. Returning to the table and depositing everything, he licks beer off his finger that poked his brew and settles into his seat.

“These actually look amazing.” Nichol ogles the dishes, surprised. They’d even rival some of the best burgers he’s had at popular eateries in Seattle.

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