by Ava Miles
“They didn’t get along?” J.T. asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“It’s not openly talked about,” Uncle Arthur said. “They were at Oxford for a summer at the same time, I heard, and things didn’t go swimmingly. They’ve had a long-time feud over faculty tenure positions and grant money. Some say President Matthau only took this job as a FU to his old rival when he left. Petty, if you ask me.”
“But it’s done all the time,” Tanner said gravely. “Arthur thinks I should interview you about this. As a former war correspondent, I’ve written about stolen art before. That way, it’ll be on record, and we start to head off some of the crap she’s saying on the back end.”
“Happy to go on record,” J.T. said.
“Any other thoughts on what she might say?” Tanner asked.
“If it’s vile, she’ll say it.”
Uncle Arthur growled. “She won’t say you hit her or anything, will she?”
The words physically jolted him. That possibility had never occurred to him. “God, I…”
“She hasn’t attempted anything like that since J.T. filed for divorce,” Trev said, “so no, I don’t think she’ll go that far. There wouldn’t be a lick of evidence, and we’d sue the hell out of her for defamation.”
“You’ve thought about this?” he asked his brother.
Trev’s mouth was hard. “Of course we did. We had to think of every way she could hurt you, and unfortunately, this is one of the ways some people try to malign a former spouse in a divorce.”
“Pisses me off since domestic abuse is such a serious problem,” Meredith said. “When people falsely accuse others, they… It’s not right. It’s just not right.”
“So she’s making me out to be a war profiteer instead?” he asked. “Lucky me.”
“It’s codswallop,” Uncle Arthur said, “so we’ll do our part to print the truth. Even if we can’t directly call her a liar, you’ll look noble, above reproach, and that is needed right now. When are you going to make the formal announcement about the museum? Hard to print the article before that happens.”
“I’m supposed to get back in touch with the university’s public relations office,” he said. “We agreed the announcement shouldn’t be too close to the one about my donation to Evan Michaels’ company.”
It was ironic, really. He’d given away five hundred million dollars, his payout for his Merriam shares and holdings, and it didn’t seem to matter. Cynthia just kept coming.
“J.T.,” Meredith said softly. “How are you doing really? It must have been horrible, hearing what she’d done to Caroline.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, unable to speak.
Someone else cleared their voice, and he thought he recognized Uncle Arthur’s cough.
“Don’t go blaming yourself,” the older man rasped. “It’s wasted energy.”
“That seems to be the consensus,” J.T. said, “and I know it.”
“But it still feels like shit,” Tanner said simply.
“Yes,” he said honestly, “yes, it does.” He opened his eyes and rubbed them with his hand. “I…really appreciate you helping me. I…”
“Well, of course we are,” Uncle Arthur said, standing up. “You’re family, and we circle the wagons and fight until our last breath if that’s what it takes. Emmits would have done the same for any of us.”
When the older man dropped his hand on J.T.’s shoulder, he could feel himself getting emotional. Man, it was good to have people care about him. Rally around him.
“I don’t want you to get hurt, Uncle Arthur,” he said, looking at everyone. “Or any of you.”
Uncle Arthur tapped his cane on the ground. “We don’t give in to bullies. Now, before everyone starts to blubber, we’re going to leave. I have a few more calls to make, and Tanner and Meredith need to wrap up so they can get home to their son.”
Tanner crossed the room, and J.T. rose and shook his hand. “Thank you.”
“Like Arthur said, we circle the wagons.”
Meredith kissed his cheek. “You keep your spirits up, okay?”
“Trying,” he said. Maybe he should call the clown for himself. Hah.
Uncle Arthur looked at him. “Don’t make me pat you on the head and kiss your cheek. But if you need something, you call me. I’ll keep digging.”
“I have a pretty big shovel out back,” Trev said, putting his arm around the older man in a way J.T. knew was designed to support his weight without looking like it.
“Mine’s bigger,” Uncle Arthur said, “as is something else.”
Trev barked out a laugh. “You still make dick jokes?”
“Oh, good Lord,” Meredith said. “I’ll be in the car.”
“Back when our knuckles dragged on the ground,” Uncle Arthur said, grabbing his cane, “poor guys with small winkies were eaten by buffalos or something while big guys like me were the ones who got the girl and made fire.”
“You aren’t that old, Uncle.” J.T. found himself laughing, a miracle. “Did Grandpa Emmits and you used to joke like this?”
Uncle Arthur’s gaze tracked to the painting again, an amused smile touching his lips. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”
Yes, he certainly would.
Somehow the thought of Uncle Arthur scheming with his great-grandfather lightened his mood. He looked back at the painting, wishing he really could talk to the man.
Surely Grandpa Emmits would know what to do now.
Chapter 12
Caroline was going to tear it up a little tonight, and she was glad Moira and Jill could join her last-minute at Hairy’s pub.
All her life, she’d played it safe. Worked hard. Smiled in the face of grouchy and entitled clients. And for what? She’d been fired after faithfully serving her boss for five years. Tonight she was going to get a little crazy. It wasn’t like she had to get up in the morning to go to work. Hairy’s was the place to be if you asked her. Besides, the St. Patrick’s Day decorations were still dangling from the ceiling, and some of the banners were amusing.
Okay, the one right in front of her was gross—Don’t fart in an Irishman’s direction or he’ll fire one back at you—but the crazy-eyed leprechaun to her right appealed to her. When you can’t find a rainbow, don’t blame me, he proclaimed. Paint your own.
Self-help from the little people. Why not?
“Let’s do something different tonight,” she called out, going for bravado over the aching regret in her heart. “Tequila for everyone.”
“You’re a lightweight in the wine department, Caroline,” Moira said, studying her face like she was their doctor brother, Andy, checking out a patient. “Do you think shots are a good idea?”
“I like where she’s headed,” Jill said. “I just need a responsible ride home. Yo, barkeep! Three tequilas. Lime. Salt. The whole setup.”
“Jill, you’ve known me my whole life,” the bartender said when he appeared in front of them. “Stop calling me barkeep.”
“Okay, Mikey,” she drawled, blowing him kisses. Mike rolled his eyes, but Caroline didn’t miss the grin that went along with the dismissive gesture.
“I don’t know about this,” Moira said. “What’s Mom going to think when you stumble home? I’m so going to get busted.”
“Nah,” Jill said, dancing in place like she was wont to do. “There are some occasions where shots are appropriate. Encouraged even. It’s not every day your boyfriend’s ex-wife gets you fired.”
True that.
“Besides, this way, we can get away with dancing on the bar. Just watch.”
Dancing on the bar? She’d never done that before, but what girl hadn’t watched Coyote Ugly and secretly dreamed?
“I need those shots,” Jill said, slapping her hand on the bar. “It’s Mommy’s night out. We’re going to cheer you up, Caroline.”
Mike finally laid out their spread. After one shot, Caroline was feeling downright cheery. Who wanted to work for a witch like Kendra anyway? Much better to
be here, in Hairy’s, humming along to the dirty Irish ditty Jill was belting out about a red-haired lass with a bowlegged frame.
“Another round of shots!” Jill declared.
Caroline had leaned forward to grab one when she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked around to see her two brothers, Matt and Andy.
“You let her drink shots?” Andy asked her fellow partygoers.
Caroline hugged them. “Hey! I didn’t think you guys could come tonight. Mike, my bros need shots.”
“No, we don’t,” Andy said. It struck her that he didn’t seem very invested in the spirit of things. In fact, he looked downright worried. His expression reminded her a little bit too much of what J.T. had looked like earlier.
“Mo, what were you thinking?” Matt added, going full Matty Ice.
“Caroline wanted to,” Moira said, clutching Andy’s jacket playfully. “And then Jill ganged up on me.”
Jill crossed her eyes and downed her second shot of tequila. “Oh, be a good girl and own up to your own decisions, Moira. Caroline wanted tequila, so we’re having tequila. It’s the drink of breakups and getting fired.”
Which was why Caroline had suggested it even though she wasn’t much of a drinker. According to country music, tequila was the go-to for tough times. “I wanted the shots, boys,” Caroline admitted and then burped. “Oh, my goodness. I didn’t know shots could do that.”
Mike was laughing as he pulled a Guinness for another customer. Well, at least someone was entertained.
“Probably because your stomach lining isn’t used to hard liquor,” Andy said, picking up the second shot and taking a whiff. “Well, at least it’s the good stuff.”
“I’d never give someone who got fired the bad stuff, Andy Cakes,” Moira said, poking him in the chest. “Oh, might as well. Down the hatch.” She took the shot from Andy and downed it in one go. Jill applauded. Caroline joined in. Oh, this was fun.
“Yay!” Jill called out. “We’re starting to have a party!”
Yes! A party! That was what she wanted. “This is a…celebration,” she said, lifting her second shot in the air. “Of my freedom from tyranny and oppression. Kendra was a big…poop in the end.” She felt a splash of liquid on her hand and realized part of her drink had sloshed out. “Oops. Down the hatch.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Matty Ice mumbled. “Caroline, you’re already wasted, and it’s only seven.”
He was such a fuddy duddy. She wondered if his wife knew. Where was Jane? Oh, who cared? This floating feeling was so nice. She leaned back on her barstool and felt someone strong come up behind her. Oh, she knew that body. And that cologne.
Turning on her barstool, she wrapped her arms around J.T “Hi there, big boy! I can’t wait to get you naked again,” she murmured.
Oops. Trevor was standing right beside him with a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s.
“Big boy?” Trevor said, his shoulders shaking.
Ignoring him, she grinned at J.T. “I kinda like that name. From now on I will call you Big Boy instead of J.T. Did you bring the clown?”
“Ah, no.” He only grimaced a little before leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You went with tequila, eh? Well, if that’s the way you want to go, I’m all in. Trev?”
“Only if I can call you Big Boy too,” he said, earning himself a glare. “I’ll ask about the clown later.”
Caroline laughed, soaking in the fun. “We should do this more often. And I can because…hey, I’ve got no job. I’m unemployed. I’m—”
“Headed for the loony bin,” Matty Ice said after putting a finger over her lips. “Maybe Big Boy and I should step outside for a minute.”
“Matt…” Andy said, placing a hand on their brother’s shoulder.
“If you guys want to deck me for sleeping with your sister or getting her fired,” Big Boy said, “we can go outside right now. I’ll probably be able to get up easier before I do shots.”
She shifted in her stool. “Why would they hit you? I wanted to sleep with you, Big Boy. Haha. Anyway, it’s so not your business, Andy Cakes and Matty Ice. I’m an adult.”
Then she burped again and laughed. Well, mostly an adult.
Her brothers exchanged a look, and she wanted to sock them for putting a damper on the night. Again. “Don’t be so serious. If I’m not mad, you shouldn’t be.”
“We’ll save that talk for later—should it become necessary,” Matty Ice said, never breaking that frown of his. “Oh, Jesus, Jill, please don’t get on the bar. I love you, but you’re a bad influence.”
Mike held out his hands as she crawled up from her barstool and stood. “Jill, you get down from there!”
She shook her head emphatically. “Time to dance,” she said, starting to shake her booty to the delight of the other patrons, who started whistling and clapping. “Come on, Caroline. Are you a liberated woman or not?”
“Totally liberated!” she said, disentangling herself from J.T. “What happened to your lips? You look like you’re biting them.”
“He’s trying not to laugh, sweetheart,” Trevor said, holding out a hand. “Here. Let me help you up onto the bar so you can dance too.”
J.T. elbowed him.
“What?” Trev asked. “Sometimes you have to get it out of your system.”
Strong arms helped her up, and then Jill was grabbing her hands and twisting her hips. “What ya got, Shorty?”
She didn’t know who this Shorty was. How drunk was Jill? “I’m Caroline, and I’ve got plenty.”
Someone barked out a laugh—a really nice one—and she looked down to see Trevor giggling like a school kid, his arm around J.T. Ah, they loved each other. It was so sweet.
The Irish music continued to blast from the speakers, and then the barkeep Mike was next to them, yelling for them to get down.
“Mike!” Jill said to him. “Come dance with us. We need a man up here.”
“That’s enough,” the barkeep called. “Harry is going to bust my balls for letting you pull this.”
“Not finished with my Coyote Ugly,” Caroline said, letting go of her hands and turning to face the crowd.
“You want more?” Jill called out. “Come on, give it up for Mamacita and Carlita.”
People called out colorful responses, making Caroline laugh. “Am I Carlita?” she asked.
Jill nodded as she did the salsa. Caroline—no, Carlita—matched her steps, pausing for just look enough to reach out a hand to her sister. “Come on, Mo. You can tell your grandkids about this someday.”
Her sister gave Andy and Matt a look before hopping onto the stool and joining them on the bar.
“Yay! Oh, I love you guys,” she said.
Mo gave a good wiggle of her hips, and she followed suit.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jill, aka Mamacita, said. “Okay, ladies, lock arms and kick those legs.”
She watched as Jill started to imitate the Rockettes, and soon she and Mo had fallen into a rhythm with her. J.T. seemed to be hovering as she kicked, his hands ready to catch her if she fell.
“I’ve already fallen,” she told him. “Head over heels for you, Big Boy.”
Trev turned to his brother and fitted his hands into a heart. Her big boy shoved him, but there was a little smile on his lips.
The music stopped mid-beat, and Mike clapped his hands. “All right. Show’s over. Ladies, if you’d get down now, please. You don’t want my boss to fire me, do you?”
“Oh, Harry would never fire you,” Mamacita said, hopping down with Andy’s help. “I would talk him out of it. Besides, my doctor cousin here is married to his daughter.”
“You’re trouble with red hair in the best way,” Trev said. “I think I’m in love.”
“Too late,” Mamacita said, holding out her left hand. “Already hitched. Have a family.”
He was laughing, and it was so contagious Caroline started laughing too. Soon they all were. Well, all except for her wet blanket brothers and J.T.
“Mamacita is a catch for sure,” she told Trevor as both of the Merriam brothers helped her down. “But she’s already been caught.”
“Then I’ll have to settle for friendship,” Trevor said. “I need someone like you around to lighten things up.”
Mamacita dug into her purse. “Here’s my card. Call me any time.”
Caroline burst out laughing again. “But you already know each other.”
“But we’ve moved on to the uber stage of our friendship,” Mamacita said. “Trevor, my darling, since you appear quite sober, could you take me home to my one and only?”
“Be happy to,” he said, linking their arms. Turning to the Hale brothers, he asked, “You guys got Moira?”
Matty Ice dug out a coin and flipped it. “Heads or tails, bro.”
“Tails,” Andy called.
When Matty looked at the coin, he cursed. “Okay, I’ll see her home. J.T., I assume you have Caroline?”
“Oh, he has me,” she purred, nuzzling into his warm body. “And our names are Carlita and Big Boy, remember? Maybe I can stay with you tonight, honey. My mom’s going cluck like a hen when she sees me.”
J.T. and Trevor were both trying not to laugh, but her brothers still had their fuddy duddy hats on.
“Oh, will you stop looking at each other like I’m crazy? I had some fun and danced on a bar. I feel great. Really.”
“I’ll bet,” Andy said. “Hopefully, you’ll feel the same way in the morning. If not, take an aspirin and drink lots of water. I’m going home. Good luck with Mo, Matt.”
“I’m totally fine,” her sister insisted, a claim that was immediately debunked when she stumbled as she reached down for her purse. “My tequila was defective or something.”
“At least you’re not as bad as Natalie,” Andy said. “Good thing she’s pregnant or she would have been out here drinking and dancing ’til Hairy’s closed. Later, Merriam.”
“Should I really take her back to your mom’s?” J.T. asked Andy. “Like this?”
“Why are you asking him?” she said, pushing away from him. “I told you. I want to go home with you.”
