Page 6 of A Grinchmas Delight

I kiss her cheek and Johnny does the same.

“Since Isabel, Jane, and the kiddos are shopping, wanna grab a few drinks at Scotty’s Place?”

“You know I do,” I say, following him out of the front door. Scotty’s is the bar we’ve been going into since we were way too young to even get in, much less drink. But beingJohnny Moore’s Boysgot us into a lot of things we wouldn’t have normally been in, trouble included.

“Meet you there?” I call from the running board of my truck.

“Yep!”

Scotty’s Place is packed for Thanksgiving night. Everyone must have been tired of their families today. I don’t blame them.Most families aren’t as welcoming as mine, something I learned over the years from friends in school.

Johnny grabs us a seat at a table by the old-time jukebox and I grab two old fashioneds and sit down. It’s what we drink when we’re here. It’s what we’ve always drank. Ever since ol’ Scotty himself told us that was Dad’s drink of choice, we didn’t have a choice. It’s nostalgic, to be sitting here. We haven’t been here in years. I usually leave Thanksgiving after we decorate and head back to the city to return to work.

I just wanted to spend a little more time with Mom this year and I couldn’t turn down a trip to Scotty’s with my brother, for old time’s sake.

Johnny slips me a five-dollar bill. “Jukebox?”

I take it and slip it in the jukebox, flipping through the cd’s inside. I know most of the numbers of our songs by heart, having played them enough over the last fifteen years. Old Violin starts playing through the speakers and Johnny raises his glass in a toast.

I clink mine to his and take a sip, sitting down in my chair again. The chatter in the bar is loud, but the music is louder. There aren’t many familiar faces in here anymore at all. Most of the old timers that we knew and spent time with here have long since passed, only a few remaining and they don’t come out after dark anymore.

“Times sure have changed,” I say, setting my glass down on the table.

“Yeah. But nothing ever stays the same for long.”

The front door opens, sending a cool blast through the bar. I look over and nearly choke on the cherry I’m chewing on. Dayra. Fury instantly encompasses me. I’m angry at just the sight of her. Inmyplace. What is she doing out here? Why is she here? My face heats as my anger grows and I turn my attention back to my brother.

“Damn. She’s kinda hot,” Johnny says, staring at Dayra.

I glare at him. “Aren’t you happily married?”

Johnny raises a hand. “Hey, I was just saying. I can look.”

I want to storm over there and tell her to leave. To get out. She haunts me every day at work, she’s not allowed to plague me in the one sacred place I have. I sigh and polish off my drink.

“Next round’s on you,” I bark.

Johnny rises and gives me an awkward look before grabbing my glass and walking to the bar. I can’t help myself, curiosity getting the best of me. I scan the bar for Dayra. She’s sitting next to a man and a woman. The man looks to be around her age, maybe a bit younger, and they favor a bit. I wonder if they’re related. The bartender is smiling and laughing with them and I wonder if she’s been here before. She seems comfortable here.

“You know, I’m the married one…” Johnny trails off, setting a glass down in front of me.

“And?”

“And you’re not. And you’re staring at that beautiful girl like you want to go talk to her.”

“I don’t.”

Johnny eyes me suspiciously. “Whatever you say, bro.”

I spend the next hour trying and failing not to look over at Dayra. She hasn’t seen me yet, and I intend on keeping it that way. The couple that was with her has left and now she’s sitting at the bar, drinking alone. I watch as some drunk asshole wanders up next to her. I can’t tell what they’re talking about, but he takes a seat next to her and she doesn’t seem bothered by him. I expected her to be bothered. But she isn’t.

He’s ordering drinks and she accepts. I stare on as they talk and he keeps making her laugh. I want to drag him away from her. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“You sure you don’t want to go talk to her?” Johnny inquires again.

I sigh. “I’m sure.”

“You know her or something?”

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