Happy Ending

by J. Sterling

  I shook him gently, and he startled.

  “Hey.” His voice was more gravelly than usual, and he rubbed Mariana’s calves to get her to wake.

  “You’re back,” she said as she sat up. “What did the doctor say?”

  “That everything was totally normal, and it should be okay,” Sofia said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  “You all right, dear?” Mariana asked, the concern clear in her tone.

  “It was just weird. And the doctor blew it off like it was absolutely nothing at all.” Sofia shook her head. “But it didn’t feel like nothing. It hurt.”

  Sofia hadn’t admitted all that to me on the drive home. For the most part, she’d stayed fairly quiet. I’d let her be, assuming she was processing things or just tired.

  “Should we go back?” I asked. “I can take you back.”

  “No, babe.” She touched my shoulder. “It’s just a little unnerving to be told that nothing was going on in there, when it definitely felt like something was.”

  “But you’re not in any pain now, are you?” Mariana asked.

  Sofia shook her head.

  I blew out a relieved breath. “Then I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay, angel.” Grant leaned toward my woman and pressed a kiss to her cheek, giving me the stink-eye over her shoulder. He knew damn well I wouldn’t create a scene right now.

  “Thank you both so much for coming over.” Sofia gave them each a hug, then walked them toward the front door.

  “Of course. Anytime, you know that,” Mariana said with a smile.

  “Matson didn’t wake up?” I asked.

  “Not a peep,” Grant said, then placed his hand on the small of Mariana’s back and ushered her outside.

  “Thanks again.” I closed the door and turned to find Sofia watching me. “You good?”

  She nodded and waited for me to reach her, then took my hand and walked me down the hall toward our bedroom. Just the feel of her hand in mine filled my heart with so much love, I thought it might burst. I never knew that love could feel like this—so complete, secure, and safe.

  I was the luckiest damn man on the planet, and I knew it.

  Land Mines

  Ryan

  The bar was fairly empty the next day as I filled my brothers in on the scare with Sofia. I’d told them both over an hour ago, and their concerned expressions still hadn’t faded.

  “You’re scaring the customers,” I said, referring to Frank’s scowl, then added, “More than usual.”

  He glared at me, and even Nick refused to crack a smile at my joke.

  “Like you wouldn’t be the same way,” Frank said with a grimace, “if the situation were reversed.”

  My stomach twisted. If anything happened to Claudia or Jess, I’d definitely be as freaked out as my brothers. But before I could tell Frank as much, he pointed a finger at me.

  “You have no idea what it felt like when we learned that Derek almost shot you.”

  I hadn’t expected those words. Taken aback, I cocked my head to the side and met his hard gaze.

  “It’s almost like we have some kind of PTSD or something,” Nick said.

  “He’s right.” Frank nodded in agreement. “Just hearing you talk about Sofia and the hospital . . . it all came rushing back. The feelings of that night.”

  Derek was the last thing I expected either of them to be thinking about. I had no idea that what happened with him still haunted my brothers, but of course that made sense. At first, we talked about it until we were all blue in the face, but not so much anymore. It hadn’t been brought up in a while.

  “You could have died, Ryan,” Nick said. “I think about that all the time.”

  “You do?” I asked almost incredulously.

  “Hell yes I do,” he said, sounding both hurt and annoyed. “So many things could have gone wrong. What if the cops hadn’t gotten there in time. If Frank hadn’t had the foresight to call them. If Derek hadn’t just taken one shot. We would have never recovered from losing you. And I had no idea any of it was even going on.”

  I tried to keep up with Nick’s rambling thought process and logic, but I was confused by his last statement. “What do you mean, you had no idea?”

  Nick swallowed hard, getting a little emotional. “There wasn’t a single part of me that tingled with awareness that something was off. I’d been home with Jess, probably happy as hell doing whatever we were doing. But the point is that I didn’t know. I didn’t sense anything. And you could have been shot and killed!”

  “How could you have known?” Frank’s tone was all business, but his expression had gentled in sensitivity to Nick’s feelings.

  Our baby brother flung his hands wide. “Don’t you think we should know when something’s wrong with one of us? Like some kind of sixth sense, a tingling in your gut?”

  I shrugged. I’d never really thought about it. “I don’t know, Nick. It’s not like we’re not triplets.”

  “But we’re brothers,” Nick insisted. “And we’re close. I just assumed that if a life-or-death situation was going on with one of us, we’d all know it somehow. I’m mad that I didn’t know. I feel like I failed you.”

  Frank frowned. “How long have you been keeping this in?”

  “It’s not like that,” Nick said as rolled his eyes. “I have a lot of thoughts about what happened.” He shrugged. “They just sort of live in my head now.”

  I reached for his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, trying to reassure him. “You couldn’t possibly have known, and you didn’t fail me. What if the situation were reversed and it happened to you instead of me?”

  Nick’s eyebrows drew together as he considered my question. “Okay, what if it had?”

  “Would you be upset at me for not knowing something was happening to you?”

  He barked out a laugh. “No. You’re not psychic. How could you possibly know?” He stopped short and released a long breath. “Okay, I get it. Point taken.”

  “But still,” Frank said, “the mention of a hospital and Sofia in the same sentence might send us off the deep end for a little while.”

  “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t even think about it,” I said, and I was.

  I was sorry that my brothers were still so affected by the night I tried so hard to forget, but never would. Sorry that we clearly hadn’t talked about it enough, because it still lingered in our subconscious, ready to strike at any time.

  “What’s it take to get a drink in this shithole?” someone called out in a deep, gravelly voice.

  We all turned to face a giant of a man who looked more out of place than an Eskimo on a sunny beach. He had to be at least six foot five, with a barrel chest and fists the size of cantaloupes. He was dressed in all black—black tee, black jacket, black slacks, and black boots, with hair and eyes to match. He looked like he was in his early fifties, age lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. Everything about this man screamed intimidation, and I wasn’t easily intimidated.

  I moved down the bar toward him. “What can I get for you?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, his expression cold.

  I could usually turn the sourest of customers sweet in no time. But I wasn’t sure this man had a sweet bone in his body, so I didn’t bother trying. I kept my expression neutral, not giving him my most charming smile like I normally would with a difficult customer.

  “Whiskey, straight. No rocks. And nothing shitty,” he growled.

  I turned around to grab our most expensive bottle. If this guy wanted to be an asshole, the least he could do was pay for it.

  I set the glass on the bar in front of the stranger, who stood tall, refusing to sit. I cast a wary look at each of my brothers, who had both edged closer. This man looked like more than a little trouble, and we all knew it.

  There you go, Nick, here’s where our sixth sense lies—in sensing trouble when it walks into our bar.

  The man glanced around, then took his drink and moved to
the other side of the room. We all watched in silence as he reached out and touched the exposed brick here and there, almost looking like he was pushing every so often. Then he looked up for an unusual amount of time, and I wondered what he could possibly be doing since there were no ceiling tiles for him to count.

  When he glanced back toward the bar, catching the three of us watching him, he let out a laugh that made chills run down my spine.

  “What’s he doing?” Nick whispered.

  “Losing his mind?” Frank suggested.

  I stayed quiet, pretending to dry the already dry glass in my hands.

  “Who owns this joint?” the man demanded, his voice commanding.

  “We do,” Frank shot back, matching his tone.

  “You three?” The man pointed a stubby finger at us.

  When he reached inside the pocket of his jacket, my body instantly tensed, my mind racing as scenes of Sofia and Matson played in it on a loop. I assumed this man had a gun, and was about to pull it out and shoot us. I’d either seen one too many gangster movies, or I was more fucked up from Derek threatening to kill me than I realized.

  When he pulled out an old piece of paper, I relaxed, even if my relief was short lived.

  “What is that?” Frank asked as he leaned forward.

  “Can’t you read, boy?” the man asked, his voice snide and condescending.

  I glanced at the paper, noting the word Deed printed in bold letters on top. “What’s this?” I reached for it, but he slapped my hand.

  “Don’t touch my shit,” he said, leveling me with a cold stare. “It’s the deed to this bar—”

  “That’s impossible,” Frank said. “We own this bar. Bought it from Sam years ago.”

  The stranger coughed out a laugh. “My apologies. It’s not the deed to the bar. It’s the deed to the land the bar sits on. So I’m going to need you boys to close up shop. You’re not welcome on my land.”

  My blood chilled as it ran through my veins. When we’d negotiated the purchase of the bar from Sam White Jr., the son of the original owner, he’d never said anything about not owning the land it sits on. If he had, we would have bought both, because who wouldn’t?

  Why would Sam keep that from us? And why would he sell the land to this asshole who looked like a mobster, and the bar to us?

  Giving the man a hard look, I said, “We’re going to need to call Sam.”

  The stranger put the paper back into his pocket and folded his thick arms across his chest. “Good luck trying to reach him, considering he’s dead.”

  “He died?” Nick asked.

  “Couple weeks ago now.”

  Even though Nick never met Sam, he knew about the bar’s original owners and namesakes. Sam Sr. opened his bar right after prohibition ended and kept it afloat for decades until his son took over. Then Frank and I came along and offered to buy it from Sam Jr. at more than a fair price. Despite the outdated fixtures, we saw the business’s potential, and the location was beyond prime.

  Since then, we’d updated most of the interior, but we kept the original name and some of the original fixtures. Frank and I wanted to pay homage to not only the family who originally owned the bar, but to the bar’s history as well.

  We knew a lot of shit went down here back in the day, although we had no idea what, exactly. Only random stories fueled by the Hollywood rumor mill and online gossip; nothing that could ever be verified. But this bar started as Sam’s, and we were determined to keep it that way.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” I said mostly to myself, but everyone heard.

  “We’ll get our lawyers on this, sir, but there’s got to be some sort of compromise.” Frank’s demeanor changed as he started to negotiate.

  “I’m a fair man. I’ll compromise by giving you thirty days to vacate.”

  “Thirty days?” Frank nearly choked, probably thinking about all the things we had coming up in the next month—like the baby and his wedding. “I’m sure we can work something out. We’ll buy the land back from you.”

  The stranger laughed again, sounding more sinister than he had the first time. “No deal. I’m going to tear apart this bar brick by brick.”

  This couldn’t be happening. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding.

  “Why?” I asked, unable to imagine a single reason why anyone would want to destroy Sam’s Bar.

  “None of your damn business. And don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, kid. It might get cut off.”

  As my brothers and I exchanged shocked looks, the man slammed a twenty on the bar top.

  “Keep the change. You’re going to need it, considering you’ll be out of business soon.”

  “You can’t do this,” Frank shouted at his retreating back.

  The stranger stopped cold and turned back to level a hard look on us. “Thirty days, pretty boys,” he growled, then turned and disappeared outside.

  The Bar Is Our Baby

  Ryan

  Nick and I turned toward Frank. “What the hell was that?” we asked in unison.

  He shook his head. “I’ll go call our lawyer.”

  “Is that even legal?” Nick asked, his eyes wild. “That can’t be legal. That can’t be right, can it?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it could be,” Frank said, sounding more than a little concerned. “I have all the paperwork for when we bought the bar in the back. I’ll go grab it.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense.” I braced against the bar top, digging my fingernails into the wood.

  “What part doesn’t make sense to you?” Frank asked.

  “That Sam or our lawyer wouldn’t have told us the land and the business were separate.”

  “They did, remember?” Frank asked.

  As I thought back to the overwhelming process we went through while purchasing the business, it sounded a little familiar, but I wasn’t a hundred percent certain.

  When I shook my head, Frank said, “Don’t you remember when Sam said he had no idea where the original deed was? He assumed his dad misplaced it, so we had a new one drawn up that he signed.”

  “So then it’s fine, right?” Nick asked. “If we have a deed—”

  Frank shook his head. “If that guy has the original, then there’s a good chance it supersedes ours.”

  Still thinking back, I supposed it was possible, even if it seemed farfetched. When we met with Sam, Frank and I had been ready for battle, assuming that he was going to take one look at us and laugh us out of the place.

  I leveled Frank with a look. “He was so happy when we bought the bar from him, remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “You guys didn’t tell me any of this,” Nick said, clearly angling for details.

  Looking at my little brother, I said, “He said he’d had plenty of people trying to buy the bar before we came along. He told us that he refused to sell to money-hungry yuppies or crooks.”

  Frank let out a small laugh. “He said he knew it was a pipe dream, but he wanted Sam’s to stay a bar. He didn’t want someone buying it just to tear it down and build some swanky hotel or stupid fancy-schmancy boutique. His words.”

  I nodded, grinning at the memory. “And when we told him our plans to not only keep it a bar, but keep the name and a lot of the original fixtures, he couldn’t sign the paperwork fast enough.”

  “He said we were just what he’d always hoped for,” Frank said.

  “Except that we were too pretty and young.” I rolled my eyes. “And he hoped we were smarter than we looked.”

  “Sounds like another old man we know.” Nick grinned, obviously meaning Grant.

  “No kidding. I just don’t understand how this guy could have the original. If that was even a possibility, wouldn’t Sam have at least mentioned it to us?”

  “Unless he didn’t know,” Frank said with a shrug. “I’m going to go make those calls now. You two do your best not to freak the fuck out in the meantime.”

  For some reason, his ste
rn tone settled me slightly.

  • • •

  The next week seemed to both fly by and to drag. I had no idea how time could feel so contradictory, but it had.

  We still had no answers in terms of the bar, and the shady guy hadn’t reappeared. The three of us did our best to calm our nerves, but the threat hung over us every hour of every day. We’d even stopped taking our usual days off, all of us wanting to be at the bar in case something happened or if he showed up again.

  “Is Sofia giving you shit for being here all the time?” Nick asked as I lined up a stack of dried glasses.

  “No, why? Is Jess giving you shit?”

  “Nah.” He laughed. “She’s working a lot, so she probably doesn’t even notice I’m gone.”

  “Claudia?” I asked Frank.

  He shook his head. “Between her job and the last-minute wedding details, she’s got enough on her plate. She realizes that I’m here more, but she doesn’t ask why. She actually tells me to come here when I’m not being helpful.”

  “So, all the time then?” Nick said before I could, and Frank socked him in the arm. Better him than me.

  I placed the last clean glass on the shelf and tucked the towel in my back pocket. “Have you heard anything yet?”

  Frank shrugged. “Nothing more than we already know. It’s definitely possible, but it would have been done so long ago that the files were never converted electronically. He’s got a paralegal digging through boxes of old records in the county courthouse basement.”

  “Just like in a movie,” Nick said.

  “We’re running out of time,” I said, stating the obvious.

  “Twenty-two and a half days,” Nick said under his breath, and we all fell silent.

  We were all stressed and worried, each of us in our own way. None of us wanted to lose what we’d built. It didn’t seem fair.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see Sofia’s name on the screen.

  “What’s up, baby mama,” I said with a grin, then my breath caught in my throat at her words. “I’ll be right there. Don’t move. I’m coming.”

  My hand shook as I pressed End and looked at my brothers, whose faces were etched with concern and worry.