Page 84 of Three Bossy Boyfriends
On the upside of his outdated business model, the drinks are cheap as fuck.
The boys already have a bucket of beer on the table, the sweating bottles jammed into ice in a blue bucket that has a peeling, crackled sticker declaring, “I lost my virginity at Swanson’s.” There are various myths and legends surrounding the origin of the sticker’s slogan, but I think the most commonly accepted truth is that “it was the eighties.” That’s the explanation for almost everything about Swanson’s, and we don’t bother to question it.
I wave to my friends and pull up a stool.
“Hey, what’s up?” Henry calls out to me, standing up to give me a shoulder bump.
Around the table with him are Ashton, Cliff, and Diggs, which is his last name but effectively turned first name at this point. We all have been friends since tee ball, and while we have various careers and partners and even a baby in the case of Ashton, we still manage to make it to Swanson’s to hang out once a month or so. We used to be in a dart league here, but Diggs nailed Cliff in the cheek with a dart—it was a superficial wound—and the fallout of that argument and who was wrong and who was right led us to leave darts in the past.
Now we just hang out and have a couple of beers.
Henry does sing karaoke because honestly, he’s fucking good at it, and we enjoy giving him shit about having the “voice of an angel.”
We all exchange greetings.
“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Diggs comments.
I yank a beer bottle off of the ice and pop the cap off. “I am. The lawsuit against me got dismissed thanks to my lawyers. Well, and the fact that it was bullshit.”
I can’t say I was really worried, but the whole allegation was a pain in the ass. Time and money spent that I didn’t want to waste.
“Hey, that’s awesome!” Henry says. “Congrats, man.”
“Thanks. It’s a relief, though I never had any doubts about it.”
“Yeah, but you always need a good lawyer. Glad it worked out,” Cliff comments.
“Just in time too,” I say. “One of the firm’s lawyers left.”
What a mess that had been. I had felt really fucking bad for Finley.
Normally, I’d say kissing a woman wasn’t the best way to express that, but Finley had been staring up at me like she wanted me to take charge.
So I did, and she’d responded very damn positively.
Mr. Fucking Fix It, that’s me.
Ashton gave me a knowing look. “Definitely just in time. My sister is friends with Kyle, who works there, you know. I heard all about Finley Anderson’s boyfriend hooking up with the big boss.”
Damn it. That is the one irritating thing about living in a small town.
Nothing is a secret.
I scowl at Ashton. “Maybe stop gossiping about other people’s fucking lives. That’s nobody’s business but Finley.”
“Whoa.” Ashton puts his hands up. “Look, I wasn’t judging anyone in this story. I was just siding with you that the timingof getting your lawsuit dismissed was a good one, because I imagine things are tense in that office right now. Relax, buddy.”
I realize my fists are clenched and my shoulders stiff. “Finley doesn’t deserve to be talked about.”
It’s obvious I’m saying too much. My buddies are all eyeballing me with suspicion now.
“Got a thing for Finley now?” Cliff asks. “I saw her at the coffee shop the other day. She grew up real nice.” He makes a gesture to indicate big breasts.
Before I even realize what the fuck I’m doing, my arms shoot out and I grip Cliff by the shirt with two fists and jerk him across the table toward me. The beer bucket clanks and Cliff’s stool goes sliding out from under him.
“Don’t you ever talk about her like that, got it?”
Cliff doesn’t look worried. He’s grinning. “Got it.”
