Page 9 of There's No Us Without You
THREE
Will
It’s Sunday afternoon,and like clockwork, Benny and Merve—two of my regulars—shuffle in through the front door of my bar, their ageing bodies seeming to shrink each time I see them. Which is every damn day.
They were kind of a package deal when I bought the place two years ago. The previous owner warned me about them only so far as their ability to drink me dry.
For whatever reason, they seem to like me, which is a first. Most people steer clear, whether that’s because of the constant scowl on my face, or because of my personality.
Either way, it’s a good thing.
The less people want to get to know me, the better. I’m not equipped for people pleasing.
Which, when I think about it, owning and running a bar probably isn’t the best career choice, considering. The opportunity was too good to pass up, though, and I had cash to spare.
Besides, I needed something to keep my mind and hands occupied. I’d already landed myself in trouble with the law by doing dodgy shit online, and I couldn’t leave my brother to fend for himself against my father.
So, it was either go straight, or end up in jail.
“How’s it going, Will?” Benny nods my way as he slides onto a stool at his usual spot at the back of the bar, Merve climbing onto the one to the left of him.
They insist they like to see who comes through the front door.
Fucking creeps if you ask me, but they’re harmless.
Mostly.
Their disagreements are usually with each other. It’s quite entertaining, really. That is, until one of them throws beer on the other, and I’m left to clean up their mess. How they’ve remained friends for so long is beyond my thought capabilities.
Their constant need to be at each other’s throats reminds me of all the times Wren and I have had to deal with Emerson and Koby, and their bullshit. Those two have had a love hate relationship since they were six, at least according to Emerson.
I dip my chin and grab two beer glasses from a shelf under the bar. “Benny, Merve. The usual?”
They each nod in agreement and thank me when I slide two full glasses of craft beer over to them.
The old men chat amongst themselves while I switch my focus between them and the front door.
Great, now I’m being the fucking creep.
I’m not expecting anyone in particular.
Just the one with those green eyes Emerson was talking about last night.
As much as I hate to admit it, his words kept me awake, and now I can’t stop thinking about our conversation. I wish he would have kept his stupid thoughts to himself.
When he’s all moody, I don’t know how to handle him. I’m used to the playful side, the one that talks shit most of the time. Although, it’s also one thing I love most about him, even if sometimes I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze tight.
Or put him on his knees.
Call it wishful thinking, but I have a feeling Emerson’s dream girl will be back. He isn’t easy to forget, that’s for sure. So will she come back in the hopes of seeing him again?
Merve clears his throat, making me glance over to make sure he isn’t choking to death. That’d be just what I need right now—a lawsuit because some stupid old man couldn’t swallow properly.
“What?” I raise an eyebrow when I find him staring directly at me, bloodshot eyes bulging out of his face.
He shakes his head, his glass halfway to his mouth. “Nothing... it’s just... when are you going to find someone to settle down with, Will? You’re a handsome young fella.” The light from the large industrial pendants hanging from the ceiling reflect off his balding head when he finally takes a sip of his beer.
Here we fucking go.
