Page 28 of One Chance to Stay
The five men sitting at the bar could have been my father. They were a grumbling bunch who spoke a language of scoffing and half-sentences. The only thing separating them was the baseball caps they wore. Vietnam Veteran. Desert Storm Veteran. Proud Marine. 82ndInfantry.
I cracked open another beer, sliding it in front of the man in the middle. “Semper Fi,” I said.
“That’s the Marine Corps,” he grumbled. “Those jar heads would be lost without us.”
“Hey,” the Marine said. “You flyboys?—”
“Don’t even start,” he replied.
I searched back and forth, hoping Abraham would appear. After he showed me my station, he vanished down the hall. I could hear the familiar clack of the cue ball and prayed he finished his game. There were almost two dozen men in attendance, and my attempts to connect had gone painfully wrong at every step.
This bachelor party needed some oomph. Never in my life had I prayed for a stripper to break through the door. Hell, I’dsettle for Mabel Syrup performing her greatest show tunes. They might have thwarted my attempts so far, but I would not go down without swinging.
“Okay, gentleman, I can’t let you keep drinking this swill.”
“It’s beer,” Mr. Air Force protested.
“This is a bachelor party, and that’s the bottom of the barrel. We can do better.”
All five grumbled.
Bartender powers activate. Air Force was the leader of this ragtag militia. If I could turn him, the others would fall in line.
I scrounged behind the bar looking for my tools of the trade. It had all the ingredients necessary for cocktails. The hard alcohol had dust on it, thick enough to suggest they had been purchased when the building opened. We were going to change that tonight.
“I’m going to introduce you to some class.”
The Marine elbowed Air Force. “Something he desperately needs.” All but Air Force laughed. It was a good start.
I grabbed five glasses and set them on the counter upside down. With precision, I flipped them over, taking the last and tossing it from behind my back over my shoulder. Slam. All five men jumped.
“This little concoction is going to put some hair on your chest.” I winked. “Maybe some back on your head.”
I had their attention.
Simple Syrup. Water. Bitters. I dashed each into the glass, giving each one a quick swirl. When I held up the bourbon, I coughed in surprise. They had top-shelf alcohol hiding down here. I spun it in my hand, giving it a flip before bouncing it off the inside of my elbow. They weren’t impressed with the theatrics, not yet.
I poured down the line. Setting the bottle aside, I reached into the grocery bag. Good thing I had come prepared, otherwisethese men would celebrate a momentous occasion with swill. That’d crush my bartending heart.
The cherries plopped into each glass, and now I needed to finish with a bit of orange zest. I skinned the orange and popped a lighter from my pocket. With a quick burn of the ends, I twisted the rinds and dropped them into the glasses.
“Gentlemen, enjoy the best drink you’ll have all night.”
The Marine was the only one to lift his glass. With a quick swirl, he sucked in a breath before having a sip. He cracked a smile. “Well, damn. The boy knows how to make a drink.” With his endorsement, the others did the same, and the grumbles vanished with a series of mmm sounds.
I glanced past the veterans to see Seamus standing in the doorway. His dark red button-down made the white of his beard stand out. We locked eyes, and I thought he’d turn away. He held my gaze. The intensity in his eyes left my cheeks burning, and I had to look at my newest patrons.
“We’ll be back for another round,” the Marine said.
The Flyboy slid off his stool, his Old Fashioned in one hand, and his cheap beer in the other. I had expanded their palettes, but none of them were going to give up their trashy beers. With them heading toward the billiards room, only Seamus remained.
“Funny story,” I said, wiping down the countertop. “I bumped into a lovely lady at the grocery store.”
Seamus moved forward, taking a seat at the bar. He didn’t speak. I expected him to leave the moment we were alone, but his staying spoke volumes. His expression, however, did not.
“Grace is a lovely woman.”
He nodded in agreement. “Yes, she is.”
