I smiled. "It's really me. Would you like to try our newest specialty cocktail? The DC Dirty Martini, extra salty, just like the pirates." Of all the scenarios I'd imagined—of all the words I'd planned to say—I'm certain the word pirates had never made a final cut in the theoretical first conversation with my parents.
Where was Mandi when I needed her? She could find some useless trivia to help me bridge the almost-quarter-of-a-century gap that held my tongue securely in its grasp.
Harmony stood, took my hand, and pulled me into an awkward hug. "I have so much to tell you. So much to apologize for."
I pulled away from the hug. Again, mixed emotions vying for attention. I'd always imagined more of a Hallmark moment the first time I saw them. The flash of cameras, the buzz of the patrons, and people calling out for a refill of their drinks put this moment about as far away from Hallmark as possible. I shook my head. "I can't talk right now." A small portion of hurt and anger bubbled its way to the top of all the swirling emotions. "We'll have to find some time later. If you can fit me in before you leave town, that is."
Wanting, no, needing to steer the conversation away from personal and get the cameras turned in another direction, I forced myself back into bartender mode. Awkward, considering the magnitude of this moment, but I didn't want to make a scene. And I didn't know what else to do. "Let me make you a drink. I could whip up our Smugglers' Hurricane. Comes with a little show and is guaranteed to be sweet."
She shook her head. "I'm tired of shows." Her blue eyes brimmed with tears. "Maybe a vodka lemonade?"
The request struck a deep emotional chord of remembrance. Gram. It had been a few years since she died. I missed her more each day. Though Gram didn't drink much, on occasion she would indulge in her favorite—a vodka lemonade. Said it reminded her of a perfect day. Great, that just added two cups of grief to my emotional cocktail, making it the size of one of those fishbowl drinks consumed at Mardi Gras. "One vodka lemonade coming up."
Harmony returned to her seat visibly upset. What a mess we were. She offered a watery smile. "That was your grandmother's favorite."
"I know." I set about mixing her drink. Clara and Tara made our lemonade from scratch, so it tasted especially good. Adding a twist of lemon on the trademark plastic sword for garnish, I placed the drink in front of Harmony. "Here you go."
Brock had been watching our exchange but had kept quiet so far. Maybe he was one of those people who was shy unless on stage or in front of a camera. I couldn't be sure, as I didn't really know either of them. Not wanting to totally ignore him I asked, "Do you want something to drink?" Somewhere deep inside I think I blamed him for Harmony leaving me. He was at the bottom of every list I'd managed to come up with over the years regarding people, parents, and pricks. Wait, he may be at the top of that last list.
"I'll have what she's having." He pointed to Harmony's drink. I heard him whisper as I moved away, "I can't believe it's her."
Before I could choke down another swallow of my emotional fishbowl, Freddie shouted from the other end of the bar. "Hey, Lilly, I got your gin. Where you want me to put it?"
"Just on the back bar, please. I'll unload it soon. Can you check on Ruby, see if she needs any help?" When I turned around to give Brock his drink, he offered a tentative smile and nod. Yeah, this was awkward for all of us. Maybe the way they'd pictured our reunion wasn't quite like this either. Assuming they'd pictured it…
"Brock, baby." A woman, early twenties, long blonde hair, tattoos covering a good deal of her flesh, and ample cleavage, led a small group of people in our direction. Her ruby red lips were curled in a smile. She quickly shed the faded denim jacket she wore over the tank top and leather vest and draped it over the barstool next to Brock. My guess was she'd borrowed the jacket, since it was at least two sizes too big for her.
The tension could be felt a mile away. Any warm fuzzies we might have started to grasp on to as a family blew away in the whirlwind of this woman. Harmony jerked away from Brock and shot the woman a glare. Whoever this tattooed woman was, my mother wasn't a fan.
Freddie moved to their side of the bar and pulled the man wearing the black fedora to the front of the entourage. He situated them in between my parents and the blonde. "Lilly, meet Donny Z, manager of The Barking Spiders. Donny this is Lilly Waters, assistant manager and bartender extraordinaire here at Smugglers' Tavern."
The man extended his hand to shake mine, but Harmony jack-in-the-boxed off her barstool like her crank had been overturned and shoved Donny. "You stay away from my daughter. You're nothing but bad news. If you think I'll ever forgive you for bringing her into the group, you're mistaken." She redirected her glare for a moment to the blonde. Venom spewed with her words as her face turned an ugly shade of red.
I had no idea what was going on between Harmony and the other woman, just knew I didn't want to be caught in the middle. Where was Tanner, my knight in white cotton, when I needed him? He hated that nickname but endured me calling him that as long as I followed it up with a kiss. For the record, if he were here right now, I'd totally kiss him. Guess that adage about absence making the heart grow fonder was true.
Instead of Tanner, my favorite bald man appeared out of nowhere and stepped in between Mommy Dearest and Donny Z. "Let's all just calm down. I don't want to have to ask you to leave or call the police. I'm sure neither of you would want to be formally escorted off the premises. Am I right?"
Donny Z's face registered shock for a moment before he blinked several times. "I know you."
Abe paled but held his ground. "You are mistaken, as I certainly don't know you."
To those who knew Abe well, it was easy to tell he sounded a lot more convincing than he really was about this whole scenario. Donny's identification had rattled him. I just wasn't sure why.
Before I could step in, Donny's hands went to Abe's chest. He pushed hard, knocking the older man back on his heels and making him stumble. "You're from Chicago."
Abe opened his mouth—to deny everything, I'm sure—but Freddie stepped in between the two men. "Hey, Donny, back off, man. Abe's old and a retired school teacher. He works in the garden. I don't know who you think he is, but we all need to settle down."
Donny lifted his hands in surrender and stepped back. He cast a final curious glance in Abe's direction before turning his attention to me. "I ain't got no issue with nobody. Harmony's got her a case of the green-eyed monster of jealousy. This ain't the first time she's shared her disapproval of my choice for our bass player. But Freddie here is right. Must be a case of mistaken identity. Life on the road takes its toll."
Abe focused his attention away from Donny and onto Harmony, waiting for her reaction to Donny's statement, I'm sure. She grabbed her purse and tossed some bills to cover her tab. With one final longing look in my direction, she offered, "We'll talk tomorrow, baby." She smiled. "Now that we've found you, I want to make up for lost time."
She took Brock by the hand. His gaze circled from Harmony, to me, to tattoo girl. His demeanor indicated reluctance to leave, but the tug of Harmony's grasp swayed him in her direction. He finished off his drink. "Best damn vodka lemonade I've ever had."
Harmony leveled a final visual dagger at Tattoo Woman while Brock turned his attention to Donny. "We need to talk. I'll see you at the B&B." There was something in Brock's gaze that sent the centipedes on my spine scurrying. You didn't have to be highly perceptive to sense there was trouble in the band.
I added a heaping tablespoon of apprehension to the fishbowl now gurgling inside my stomach. As much as I wanted this reunion between my parents and me to bring closure to the hurt of my past, I worried the obvious drama they were caught up in with the band might bring trouble to the present.
DEADLY DIRTY MARTINI
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A Secret in the Pumpkin Patch Page 20
