Page 40 of All Along The Watchtower

Peyton’s eyes widened—in surprise or horror, I wasn’t sure. “You had my algebra teacher?”

“Small town, kid. Small town. C’mon.”

CHAPTER 20

BREE

“Why in the ever loving hell did I let you talk me into karaoke night?” I winced as Darren Delaney from the fish market mangled another note of “Sweet Caroline.” The entire bar seemed to collectively cringe.

“It brings in business,” Monty insisted, though his usual unflappable confidence wavered a bit. “Look at table six. They ordered three rounds just to get through Bob’s set.”

Darren’s predecessor on stage had committed crimes against music I couldn’t even talk about.

“And how many customers have we lost permanently?” I tried not to look directly at the makeshift stage area.

“Darling, you wound me. This was a stroke of genius.” Monty flinched as Darren’s voice went sharp enough to kill on a particularly ambitious high note. I fought the urge to check the glass wall dividing the dining room from the brewing tanks for cracks. “Though perhaps we should institute some basic qualifying rounds.”

I shot him a look. “Nowyou’re thinking about quality control?”

“Well...” He gestured expansively with his free hand. “The liquid courage aspect is working beautifully. Just look atall these drink orders. But I may have underestimated the psychological trauma inflicted by prolonged exposure to tone-deaf amateur performers.”

“You think?”

“At least the tips are good?” Monty offered weakly. “People seem to feel generous when they’re drinking to dull the pain.”

I had to laugh at that, even as I shook my head. “Next time you have a brilliant business idea, run it by me more than twenty-four hours in advance?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He grinned, but quickly sobered as Darren launched into an encore. “Though perhaps we should limit performers to one song each.”

“Make that a hard rule, and I might forgive you for this nightmare.” I grabbed two more beers for a desperate-looking couple at the end of the bar. “Eventually.”

“Lord have mercy, my hearing aid’s about to commit suicide.” Milt cranked down the volume on his device, his weathered face pinched with pain.

“For once, you’re the lucky one.” Duck took a long pull of his beer. “The rest of us have to suffer through this with full audio.”

“What was that?” Milt cupped his ear.

“He said you’re lucky to be deaf!” Wally shouted, making me wince.

Pop leaned forward on his barstool. “Now Bree-girl, you know I support all your business decisions, but this…”

“Don’t look at me.” I held up my hands. “This was all Montgomery’s doing.”

“Ah, the fancy brewmaster strikes again.” Cliff nodded sagely. “Remember when he wanted to do that wine and painting night?”

“That actually worked out fine,” I defended.

Duck cackled. “Only ’cause you banned Wally after he painted something that looked like copulating possums instead of a sunset.”

“It was abstract!” Wally protested.

“It was obscene,” Pop countered. “Nearly gave Mrs. Henderson a heart attack.”

“What about Mrs. Henderson?” Milt asked.

“Never mind!” they all chorused.

Monty swept by with fresh pretzels. “I hear you gentlemen critiquing my entertainment choices.”

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