Page 5 of Old Flame

This time, I laughed and shook my head. “God, no,” I replied. “I love a good cocktail, but this…” I paused, thinking of what I should say.

I’d learned that when people found out your husband was dead, they got weird and awkward. As if I were going to fall apart on them at any moment. But then I doubted I’d ever see this woman again, and she didn’t appear to be the type who didn’t know how to react to something. There was a strength in her gaze I wished I had.

“This was my husband’s favorite drink. He was Irish. Born right outside of Dublin.” I sighed, then smiled and held it up. “I’m drinking it for him.Sláinte, as he would say.” Then Idowned some more.

When I set the mug back on the table, the woman looked at it, then back at me. “I’m sure he’s looking at you from the hereafter, laughing his ass off at the face you make every time you take a drink, wishing you’d order a drink that you wanted. Let me bring you something that agrees with your taste buds, and you can sit here andsláintehim for as long as you want. I can keep ’em coming.”

I stared at her. There was no pity in her eyes. When was the last time I’d looked at someone after they found out my husband was dead and not seen that? I hadn’t known how bad I needed it until now. It gave me a feeling of normalcy.

“I’m not planning on staying long. I’m in town for a job interview, and I’m alone. Being out late drinking isn’t the smartest idea. But thank you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave me a pointed look. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure of it. The Irish like to drink, and I’d bet your husband would have wanted you to enjoy yourself—with something other than Guinness, that is,” she told me. “I’m Pepper Abe. I own this bar. When you’re ready to go, I’ll have my security get you safely to your hotel. Relax. Stay awhile. The band tonight is popular with the locals. They do a bunch of old rock—’80s mostly.”

A brunette with a braid draped over her shoulder, dressed in shorts and a top identical to Pepper’s, walked behind her.

Pepper glanced back over her shoulder. “April, get my friend here…”

She swung her gaze back to me, and I could see the question in her expression.

“Salem,” I told her.

“Get Salem a lemon drop martini and make sure she is taken care of for me tonight.” She turned back to me. “The fried pickles are popular, and we normally sell out, so I’ll send you some overbefore things get busy.”

Um, okay…well, it sounded like I was staying at least for a lemon drop martini and fried pickles. It would be rude to leave before. Why not? This was better than sitting in a hotel room.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I told her.

She flashed me a crooked grin that made a dimple pop out in her cheek. “Salem. That’s a cool name. I’ll be back around to check on you. Tonight will be a full house for a Thursday. I need to make sure things are stocked at the bar and find out where one of my hostesses is; she can’t seem to get here on time.”

“Thanks, and don’t worry about me.” Because I wasn’t staying late.

A man came walking in, rolling a hand trolley with stacked up boxes, and she turned to see him.

“Greg! Those go in the back!” she called out, sounding annoyed, and headed in his direction.

Sighing, I sank back in the booth and watched her point at a door across the bar as she talked to the younger guy.

A lemon drop martini was one of my favorite cocktails. Odd how she’d chosen that for me. It wouldn’t hurt to have one or two, then maybe listen to a couple of songs by the band before I stepped out. The hotel was less than half a mile away.

Look at me—I’m out on a Thursday night. I know you’re proud.

The third lemon drop martini was even better than the first two had been. I popped a fried pickle into my mouth while watching the band set up onstage. They didn’t start for another fifteen minutes. I considered ordering a cheeseburger to go, but decided I didn’t need it. The pickles were filling me up.

A vibration on the floor began, and I glanced around to see if anyone else had felt that. No one else seemed to be concerned asit grew in strength. A low rumble joined it. What in the world? The noise got louder, and the pictures on the wall near the entrance were shaking. Again, I checked, but not one person in here seemed to notice or care.

“Pepper wanted me to bring you this.” The brunette waitress she’d called April slid a plate with several different appetizers on it toward me.

“Thank you,” I replied, having to talk louder due to the rumble outside. “Um, what is that?” I asked before she could walk away.

She frowned for a moment, not sure what I’d meant, before her eyes lit up. “Oh, the noise. That’s The Judgment. When they all come together, it’s like that,” she replied, then spun around and hurried toward the door.

The Judgment? As in the Lord? What was she talking about?

I dropped my gaze to my glass. Maybe I’d had too many martinis because I was completely confused.

The double doors of the entrance swung open at the same time, and my eyes shot back up as the sound died almost altogether. A large, tattooed man, wearing a black leather vest with his hair in a ponytail and his arm draped over a redheaded woman at his side, came striding inside. Other leather-vest-wearing men with colorful artwork on their bodies followed. A few had women with them. They went to a section to my left but still in my line of vision. I didn’t want to be caught staring at them though so I stopped my inspection.

“Pep! Bring on the pickles, beautiful!” one of the men called out.

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