Hold It Close (MacAteer Brothers Book 3)

by ML Nystrom

  “Hey, Garrett. What’s your pleasure?”

  “Guinness.”

  “Sure you don’t want to try one of our happy hour cocktail specials? They’re my own recipes. Floating on a Cloud is made from whipped cream, vodka and strawberry liqueur with a crushed candy rim. Love Potion Number Nine is like a boozed-up raspberry smoothie with rum, and my final creation, Chocolate and Cherry Kiss, is a layered shot of liqueurs, plus a touch of Baileys.”

  Garrett shuddered a bit at the descriptions. “Ugh, they sound more like desserts than drinks.”

  Sloane laughed and tipped a large beer glass under the tap. “I love holidays. I get to be creative instead of pouring beer after beer. Let me have my moment, will ya?”

  She set the glass in front of him and moved off to serve someone else. Owen had said earlier he would meet him at the bar but had texted a few minutes ago that he would be late. Beverly had volunteered to watch the baby and Melanie jumped at the chance to go out for an hour or two. Ever since Ryan’s arrival, Owen spent his time either working or with Melanie and the baby. Garrett never saw one without the others when it came to weekend family gatherings. It was a little weird sometimes, being around Connor and Beverly along with Owen and Melanie. At one time, he thought to add himself and Joy to the mix, but that possibility had passed.

  Joy had called his older brother’s household every day last week, causing the entire family to screen calls instead of answering the phone. She started off with sweet-talking messages about how much she missed him and needed him home. Her wheedling descended into angry cursing by the third day, and the last call came yesterday, stating he was a fucking asshole piece of shit and she hoped his dick rotted off.

  Beverly didn’t say anything to him, but Connor did.

  “You have to handle this, boy-o. Mattie heard her leaving that last bit, and I cannot have that. Bev is not happy aboot it either. She’s lettin’ me deal with it, but she’s plannin’ on filin’ harassment charges if this shite doesn’t stop. Joy calls again, I’m givin’ her your new number.”

  Connor’s lilting Irish accent coming out indicated the level of his agitation. Garrett had texted Joy a short note earlier.

  Garrett: We are over. I’m not coming back. Leave my family alone. Any more messages, we’re taking them to the police.

  The calls and messages stopped, but Garrett suspected it to be only a temporary cease-fire. He’d never known Joy to give up when she wanted something.

  Valentine’s brought out the singles as well. More people arrived at the bar in the form of women for the drink specials and men trying to buy themselves female companionship. Garrett watched as Sloane made a tray of those fluffy strawberry concoctions for a table of women. Christ, how could anyone drink something so sweet?

  “Hot damn, those look soooo good!” Melanie plopped herself next to him at the bar. “O-man, please get one for me? Thanks, baby.”

  No surprise there.

  “Hey, G-man. You doing okay? Thanks for letting me crash the party. I haven’t been out in weeks. Nope, I take that back. I do go out to the mall sometimes with my little Ryan-pie, but I haven’t been kid-free in weeks. He and I are attached at the breast twenty-four-seven, and it’s nice to be an adult for a few hours.”

  Melanie had changed from a wild and tough party girl into a dedicated and fierce mother. She’d read that breastfeeding gave babies extra immunities and better nutrition, therefore she had no problem whipping one out whenever and wherever. Last month, she had an argument with a security officer at the Starbucks in the mall about feeding Ryan in public. She had covered the entire operation with an oversized blanket draped from her shoulders to her waist in a giant poncho. The mall cop tried to throw his sizable weight around and make her leave. Melanie won.

  Owen handed Sloane his credit card as she placed the frou-frou cocktail in front of Melanie. He and Owen shared a look as Melanie lifted the sticky rim to her mouth. “Oh, that is soooo yummy. Here, O-man. Want a taste?”

  Owen bent down and kissed the touch of whipped cream from her lips. “Good.”

  She grinned at him and took another big sip.

  Gordon slid in behind the bar to start his shift and help Sloane cope with the huge crowd. The bar back left to start the karaoke machine, and already people were lining up to sing.

  “Get ready, people. You’re about to be serenaded by every hokey love song ever written.” Sloane placed shots in front of Owen and Garrett. No fancy colorful layers, just plain Jameson’s whiskey. “From the lady over at that round table.”

  Garrett looked across the room and spotted Bertie, her sister, Jodie, and two other women. She smiled and raised her girly drink in a toast. He smiled and nodded back as he lifted the shot glass. He took a respectful sip of the strong alcohol, and the burn slid smoothly down his throat.

  The speakers crackled to life and the opening chords to Bon Jovi’s “I’ll Be There For You” started up.

  “Oh, I love this song! Owen, come dance with me?” Melanie’s declaration accompanied groans from both Owen and Garrett. It was a testament to Owen’s love for his woman that he would be here tonight of all nights.

  “Hang on, boys. St. Patrick’s is coming soon.” Sloane put another cocktail in front of Melanie. “Compliments of the man at the end of the bar.”

  Garrett glanced to see Funky Tom grinning and waving. Damn, he either had big steel balls in his pants to send a lady sitting between two men a drink, or he was stupid as hell. Garrett leaned toward the latter explanation. Owen made his point by picking up the cocktail and staring down the smaller man as he swallowed the sweet cream. Tom’s face fell as he got the message.

  The drinks flowed, the dance floor filled, and the songs kept coming. Power ballads from the eighties and nineties mixed with dance music. A duo of women sang Heart’s “What About Love” and did a credible job. A group of four cowboys attempted Backstreet Boys’ “I Want it That Way.” Funky Tom butchered Ginuwine’s “Pony,” both in song and in moves.

  “Fuck me sideways.” Melanie didn’t feel the need to censor herself around adults. “Is he trying to channel Magic Mike or is he epileptic?”

  Cries of Funky Tom, Funky Tom accompanied her question. Sloane grabbed the empty drink glass and swiped at the bar with her ever-present bar rag.

  “No, that’s just him. He’s here almost every night, trying to pick up women. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s pushy. Most of the people who come here regularly just brush him off like a fly, but occasionally he makes women uncomfortable. I’ve told him more than once he needs to back off or I’ll have to ban him. He thinks his singing and dancing makes him look hot, and the more he’s up there on stage, the more chances he’ll get to meet someone.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t have a clue. Sometimes, I feel sorry for him.”

  Melanie’s glassy eyes left the man on the stage and focused on Sloane. “Why don’t you go out with him?”

  The thin woman barked a laugh. “Not that sorry. Besides, it’s not a good idea for me to date my regular patrons. I could end up with a row of exes glaring at me instead of buying drinks. I need to sling booze, not love.”

  “Your décor says otherwise.”

  Sloane’s face grew serious for a moment. Just a brief flash before her mouth opened and the smart-ass came out. “Heartsy-fartsy stuff sells almost as much liquor as New Year’s Eve. I have at least one holiday party a month, even if I have to make something up.”

  Melanie ticked off the days on her fingers. “I get it. January is New Year’s, February is Valentines, March is St Patrick’s Day. April Fool’s. What’s in May? Memorial Day?”

  “Star Wars day. May the Fourth be with you.” Sloane made a solemn bow, and Melanie burst into laughter. “Refill?”

  “No, thanks. I’m still breastfeeding, so only one. Besides, O-man and I have plans.”

  Sloane splashed some whipped cream vodka into a blender. “Special night?”

  Melanie smiled. “Oh, yeah.” She turned to a confused Owen a
nd made her announcement with a grin. “Doctor gave the go-ahead.”

  Owen blinked once and turned to face Sloane. “Settle up.” The bartender brought the credit card and tab slip, Owen scribbled a signature, and hauled Melanie off the stool by her hand.

  Peals of laughter erupted from her. “In a hurry, baby?”

  “Yes.” The gruff answer came back slightly muffled as he pulled her in the direction of the door.

  Garrett watched in amusement as they left. Despite his recent breakup, he was happy both of his brothers had found good women to share life’s journey. Perhaps one day, his heart might heal, and he could find the happiness they did. Perhaps not.

  He sipped the rest of the whiskey. Ease spread through him as the alcohol seeped into his bloodstream. Depression sat in the corner of his mind, ready to pounce if he let it. He told himself over and over that it could be worse. He could be in New Jersey right now, probably out with Joy at some bar looking just like this one. They’d drink and dance themselves silly, then go home and fall into bed and spend the night in frenzied sex. Tomorrow, he’d wake her up with an early morning orgasm.

  Where did the “worse” part happen?

  He looked up to see a trio of women on the stage. Bertie, Jodie, and their companion sang Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family” and appeared to be having a good time doing it. Big smiles, dancing around with handheld mics, and looking happy just being in each other’s company. They sounded good and even sang in harmony. Bertie seemed to be moving on from her broken marriage. Could be only a show, but at that moment, she looked happy. Garrett envied her.

  Her smile faltered a bit as Funky Tom made his way to the dance floor and horned in on the ladies’ performance. He stood directly in front of Bertie, gyrating his hips, thrusting his pelvis, and grabbing his ass. His version of twerking? He looked more like a toddler trying to shake beach sand out of his crack.

  “Yeah, get down, Funky Tom!” The catcalls and whoops of encouragement didn’t help. Tom threw himself on the floor and attempted to do the worm. This did not go well.

  “Damn, that shit ain’t right,” Gordon remarked as he placed another whiskey shot in front of Garrett. “That dumbass is gonna break somethin’.”

  The bartender got affirmation a moment later. The flailing man suddenly stopped moving and slowly lifted himself from the floor and clutched his ribs and back. He staggered off into the cheering crowd.

  The ladies finished the song and moved back to their table for another round of drinks. Two men approached and started talking to them. Garrett guessed they were either showering compliments about their singing or commiserating about their single-member fan club.

  “You drivin’?” Gordon’s question broke through Garrett’s musings.

  “Not if I finish this one. Probably catch an Uber, unless I stick around and sober up.”

  “Sucks to be sober at a bar.”

  Garrett let out a guff. “I suppose so. If I’m going to pay for a ride, might as well make it worth the effort. Keep them coming until I can’t see straight, and don’t serve me anything pink or red.”

  “You got it, pal.”

  Gordon kept his word, and when Garrett finished one drink, another one was placed in front of him. He seldom drank himself into unconsciousness, but that seemed like a worthy goal tonight. The contents of glass after glass traveled down his throat until his head spun like a top and his bladder filled to bursting. He got off the stool and had to steady himself against the bar.

  Christ, I’ve had enough. He staggered toward the bathrooms with the intention of peeing, then getting that Uber ride. In the back hallway, he paused and blearily took in the scene in front of him. Funky Tom had Bertie trapped in a corner. Her eyes were wide with fear as the overeager man moved into her space.

  “No, thank you. I’m not interested.”

  “I done saw you lookin’ at me when I was up there on stage. You like my dancin’? I knows you want a piece a Funky Tom. All the lad-ees do. It's your luckee night.”

  “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression. I’m really not interested.”

  “Ah knows you jus’ bein’ shy.”

  “Please let me pass.”

  Tom leaned in further and reached out to place his hand around Bertie’s neck. She let out a squeak and pressed further back. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she needed help.

  “Let me go.”

  “It’s okay, darlin’. Ah’ll be reel nice and sweeeet.”

  Garrett stomped up, making as much noise as possible. “Oy, boy-o. The lass said she doesn’t want your attention. Be off with ya now and leave her alone.”

  Tom turned and shot Garrett a look of fire. “Mind yer bidness ’fore I whup up on you.”

  Garrett blinked as Tom’s garbled words pierced his foggy brain. “Are ya mad, boy-o? Right melter, aren’t ya? I said leave the lass alone.”

  Tom turned to Garrett’s bemused face. He looked up at the taller man and clenched his fists, making him look like a toddler about to have the mother of all tantrums. “You done had this one ahl-ready. It’s mah turn now.”

  Bertie gasped at the obnoxious man’s words.

  Garrett had a different reaction. “Not repeating meself. You want to fight? Go for it, ya’ manky knob. Fluthered as I am, I’ll still drop ya on your arse.”

  Tom let out a frustrated yell and swung wildly. Garrett stepped back, and the man’s fist made contact with the wood paneling of the wall, punching a hole through it. Tom jerked his hand back and cradled it in his middle.

  “Ahow, ahow, ahow! You done broke mah hand!”

  “You did tha’ all on your own, boy-o.”

  Tom cried harder and swiped at the snot leaking from his nose. “Fuckin’ bee-itch! This is ahll your fault!”

  “Let me see your hand, Tom.” Sloane entered the conversation as she appeared in the hallway with a bar towel flung over one shoulder. Garrett moved to give her room and place himself in front of Bertie. The sniveling man held out his injured limb and Sloane poked at it with expertise. “Not broken, but you’ll have a helluva bruise tomorrow. I got icepacks in the storeroom. Wait here and I’ll grab you one.”

  Ten seconds later, she popped the ice pack and placed it in his hand as he hissed and whined. “Tom, I’ve told you more than once not to bother the women that come in here. Not everyone wants to be with you.”

  “That gurl started it. She done came on ta me like she was in heat.”

  “No, she didn’t. I’m not blind or stupid, Tom. I came back here to grab some bottles and caught the tail end. You’re the one who started it.”

  “Nuh-uh, he did! He done threatened me.”

  “Stop yelling. I’m done with your shit. I warned you what would happen if you kept messing with my customers. You’re banned.”

  The man stopped crying but kept whining. “But… but… Ah’m Funky Tom! Ah’m fay-mous. Them people out-chonder luv me.”

  “They can love you somewhere else.”

  The whining ceased, and yelling commenced. “You ain’t got no right to ban me!”

  “Funny, as I just did. Now, either you can leave, or I can call the police. Your choice.”

  Tom’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he made his decision. He took a few steps down the hallway toward the main part of the bar before turning back and hurling the ice pack at them. “Imma git all y’all fer this!”

  Garrett snagged the cold bag in one fist before it could hit either woman.

  Sloane chuckled at him. “Color me shocked you caught that, as drunk as you are.” She turned to Bertie. “You okay?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t start this. This isn’t the first time Tom has come on strong, but it’s the last.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “Also not the first time anyone has gotten a little somethin’somethin’ in the storeroom either, although I don’t recommend it.”

  Bertie’s face turned from chalk white to red in the span of a heartbeat. “Oh, fid
dle! Does everyone know?”

  Sloane belted out a laugh. “Not the whole bar. Just Gordon and me. We’ve seen and heard a few situations when we’ve come back here to restock. Not hard to put two and two together when we see people disappear together and reappear separately. We ain’t judging either.” She glanced down the hallway with a frown. “Tom must have noticed too, obviously. First time I’ve ever seen him get this aggressive with a woman. He’s annoying, sure, but he’s not put his hands on someone before. I can tell you it won’t happen again. He’s gonna do his best to sweet talk me into letting him come back. Not happening.”

  She looked up at Garrett. “Start a fight in my bar, I’ll ban your ass too. You want to sweet talk me, I can tell you right now don’t waste your time.”

  She sauntered down the hall to the main room, the bar towel still in place as she shouted over her shoulder. “By the way, I need you to take care of that hole in my wall. I can pay you in cash or in booze. Your choice.”

  Garrett turned around to face Bertie. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Bertie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for being here. I don’t know what he would have done.”

  “You ever get caught like that again, prune the guy and run.”

  “Prune?”

  “Kick him in the balls.”

  She smiled. “Hopefully, I won’t need to.”

  Fatigue hit Garrett as his adrenaline spike crashed and the alcohol left in his system took over.

  “Oy, I’m beat. I need to get that Uber.”

  “My sister and I drove separately. She and her friend already left. I planned on leaving after I used the restroom, but… well… you know what happened. I’ll be glad to drive you home. No charge.”

  Garrett wanted to argue, but the thought of waiting for a lift versus getting home sooner made him nod in agreement.