Page 1 of Hooked on Marshall

Prologue

“Congrats, Marshall,” my big brother says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, man,” I say with a smile. “And a year earlier than I had hoped, too.”

“Right,” he laughs. “So, now that you own the building free and clear, what’s next? You finally going to start dating so my girls can have some cousins?”

“Jesus, Mark,” I laugh. “You’re as bad as mom.”

“I can’t help it,” he sighs. “Your bar has been your life for the last six years. Now that you’ve got nothing but profit ahead of you, you should enjoy it.”

“Who says I can’t enjoy it on my own?”

“You know as well as I do that life is sweeter when you-”

“Share it with someone you love,” I finish. “I know, I know. But I can’t help that I didn’t meet my dream woman in high school like you.”

“You can say that again,” he sighs dreamily. “I am one lucky man.”

I smile and shake my head. Because he’s right. I take a breath to tell him so when the sound of tires squealing, and glass breaking, and screeching metal makes me pull my phone from my ear. It seems to last for an eternity as my heart stills in my chest. As soon as its quiet on his side of the line again, I say his name.

When I get no response, I say it again, but louder.

Then I scream his name until the call disconnects.

And my life is forever changed in that moment.

One

Two and a Half Weeks Later

The only light in the bar is from the streetlight outside. The rest of my immediate family is on their way back to my sister-in-laws home to finish celebrating my brother’s life. They all helped clean up here from the public celebration.

And now I’m at a crossroads.

The day my brother was killed, I was the last person to talk to him. As soon as I realized he’d been in an accident, I called my bar manager and told him I had to go home for a family emergency. I was only ten minutes into my drive when my brother’s wife Gina called me with the news that he was gone. It was only for her sake and my mother’s that I was able to hold myself together until I got to them. By then, it seemed like the entire town had heard.

Jace, Mark’s bar manager, shut down his bar early that night. It remained closed for three more days until a longtime friend of the family suggested opening it as a way for people to commune and remember Mark in the place that has become a staple in our small town. Having the same skill set as my brother, I happily made myself at home in his office to ensure things were as they should be.

I was relieved to see that Mark was as meticulous about his paperwork as me. At first, I figured I would stick around long enough to hire a finance manager and show them the ropes so it could still provide a source of income for Gina and her daughters. Then she found out that she was to receive a handsome settlement from the company of the truck that ran into Mark. As it goes, the driver was drunk, and the company didn’t want the hassle of a court case.

Even though Gina would certainly prefer to have Mark alive and well instead of the money, we could all sense that she was relieved for it. And after another day or two, I felt as though she would be even more relieved to let go of the bar, too.

Gina supported Mark when he bought the vacant restaurant space that was a pizza parlor when we were kids. She even helped him with the remodeling when she wasn’t teaching. But it was Mark’s dream, not hers. So, I can’t say that I’d blame her for wanting to let go of it now that he’s gone. Too much of a reminder of his absence, I suppose.

The problem is, I’m not sureIwant to let it go.

Sure, the place was jumping with people in the weeks after Mark’s death as a means of comfort and solace and a form of closure. But I knew it was more than that. What he’s done with this place is nothing short of amazing. A part of me wishes I’d have agreed to partner with him on it instead of opting to open my own place in the city.

A sound from the back of the house snaps me out of my musings. I push through the door and pull up short when a woman screams.

“Who the fuck are-”

I stop short as I slap on the light and find one of the servers and key holders with one hand on her heart and the other on her head. Her eyes are closed, and her breaths are labored.

“Shit, Lana, I’m sorry,” I sigh. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she mutters as she nods. “I just…I forgot my phone.”

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