Page 7 of Before They Were Lovers

Day caught himself holding his breath.

“Sure, why the hell not?” God muttered, his tone dull and dismissive.

“Yeah?” Day hadn’t meant to sound so surprised, and he tried to cover his enthusiasm with a light joke. “I thought I was going to have to bribe you with something stronger than beer…maybe a couple of hookers.”

God didn’t laugh—of course. But there was a shimmer in his gaze as if he were amused in his own silent way. Day had first thought God had zero sense of humor, but over the last few months, he’d discovered that while God didn’t laugh and barely smiled, every now and then, his expressive eyes would reflect a wry amusement.

Day found himself searching for those moments. Making God smile had become his own secret challenge.

“I don’t need you to bribe me.” God’s voice was even grittier than before. “I just…don’t have shit else to do.”

“Fair enough,” Day said with a shrug. “Wings and beer it is. I know a place up the road. It’s a cool hole-in-the-wall dive.”

God nodded and climbed into his massive truck after Day got into his car.

As they turned into the nearly empty lot in front of the bar, Day felt a hint of excitement. They hadn’t had much time to hang out and get to know each other. So far, God hadn’t shared anything personal about himself, and Day wanted them to be more than just work partners. He wanted afriendhe could trust.

The bar wasn’t anything to recommend on Yelp. The outside needed a lot of repairs, and the neon sign was missing six letters, making the Broken Barrel sign read Ben Bar for the last two years.

But it was perfect for them. Cheap, previously frozen wings, greasy pizzas, twelve different taps, no vegetables, no customer service, and no pretensions.

Day waited for God to get out of his truck, watching him carefully while his partner scanned the lot as if mentally noting potential dangers and all exits.

Day smirked, pulled open the bar’s door, and nodded for God to go first.

Inside, the bar was dim but warm and welcoming. The scent of well-used frying oil and searing meat made his stomach growl. There were low murmurs of conversation, sports games blaring on four different televisions, the hard clacking of pool balls, and classic rock playing from the speakers mounted in the corners.

It was his kind of environment.

He and God settled in one of the booths around the bar and in front of the television playing the University of Georgia game.

One of the bartenders quickly approached them with a frown and slouched posture.

“Y’all ordering food tonight? We’re outta mozzarella sticks and onion rings.”

She didn’t greet them or provide a smile that said she was glad they’d graced the establishment. Her annoyed demeanorseemed to shout,I’m not happy to have to work here this late at night, so don’t expect a cheery attitude.

“Yeah,” Day muttered.

She slid two single-page menus to the center of the table and removed her small pad and pen from her apron.

“I can get y’all started with some drinks,” she said around popping her gum.

“I’ll have the Belgian White.”

God glanced around her at the various taps and rumbled, “Let me get that Deschutes Black…a pint.”

Day waited until she hurried away before pushing a menu toward God and taking the other for himself.

He’d just narrowed his decision to the nachos and the parmesan garlic wings when God set his menu back down.

“Guess I’ll have the usual.”

Day smiled. “And what’s theusualfor you, God?”

His partner stared for a second, then answered, “Fire hot wings, fries, and jalapeño poppers. Any place that has poppers, I get ’em.”

Interesting.

---