Parting Glass

by Dani Wyatt

  7

  Riona

  My level of irritation just went from DEFCON five to nine.

  And even I know the scale for that only goes to five.

  I’m still at nine.

  Since Brann left, every thought I have is about him. It’s infuriating. And what’s more infuriating is that I can’t stop the little quivering that happens between my legs when I think of that kiss and how he’d gotten me so close to actually having an orgasm right in the entryway of the dang pub.

  And then to be left hanging when I was right on the edge…what an ass.

  “There’s one more sausage left, I’m sure you’ll want it.” Ainsley smirks as she shoves the plate toward me with the last of the buffet food on it. “After all, you’ve only had three.” Her sarcastic smile pushes me to DEFCON ten.

  I shove the plate back at her with a glare. She’s seated at the bar along with the handful of customers that are sipping their drinks and watching some March Madness on the big TV.

  Ainsley showed up an hour late, of course. She then spent the next hour texting, and I’m about ready to throw her phone in the dishwasher. She’s waited on a couple tables—a couple—while I’ve managed the bar and four tables, washed glasses, been down to the cellar and checked the bathrooms.

  Mum and Dad left a couple hours ago, close to five. Just before they did, Dad ran the numbers on the register and for a Sunday we’re running at about half the business we usually do.

  Thinking about Harry’s and their damn Sunday brunch makes my new DEFCON scale shoot toward a hundred.

  I hold on to the hope that St. Patrick’s Day will buy us some time. Dad is advertising pints at a dollar for the day, and he’s never done anything like that before. He doesn’t believe in wasting money on promotions or ads. Or discounts. He’s just old school and change is hard for him. Giving away money he isn’t sure he will see a return on is even harder.

  The next hour is the usual and I do my best to fight off the constant presence of Brann in my mind.

  “Hey.” Ainsley sits up and breaks into a smile. “Guess who’s on their way?”

  I know that look and I snap my tongue in my cheek while I rinse a couple glasses, not wanting to answer. But I know if I don’t, she’ll only keep on. “Who?” I mutter.

  “Devan, Ryan and Calvin.” She bobs her eyebrows on the last name and sweeps her hair off her shoulder with her hand. “God, Calvin is hot.”

  “If you say so.” I mock her movements and she gives me a sneer.

  “Well, no accounting for your taste, is there? Not if that Neanderthal you’ve been playing darts with all week is any indication.”

  “Shut up.” My hackles go up immediately, and I can’t believe how defensive I feel over a man I’ve only known for a few days. “Brann is just a friend. And Calvin is a twink. He could be on a Beach Boys album cover from like thirty years ago.”

  Ainsley sticks her tongue out. “I’ll take a twink any day over a Cro-Magnon monster.”

  We call a truce with a mutual flipping of the middle finger to each other and Ainsley nods over at the few tables with customers. “People need drinks, Ri.”

  She goes back to her phone, and I want to say So fucking serve them, you lazy brat, but I’m determined not to have any more arguments. Not tonight. As mum says, there are bigger hills to die on.

  About an hour passes before Devan, Ryan and Calvin walk in. Devan winks at me and it makes my skin crawl. I curl my nose in disgust and turn away as they sit down at a table near the dart boards and Ainsley, of course, immediately sashays to join them, leaning over the back of a chair to chat tossing her hair around until it looks like she’s going to throw her neck out.

  With those three here, I’m actually glad to just be managing the bar and going about my own business. I deal with the other customers quite happily while Ainsley flirts and waits on them. And then I hear a whistle.

  When I look up, Devan is leaning elbows on the bar, holding a sheet of paper up and reading it out loud. “Come one, come all to Harry’s St. Patrick’s Day Celebration! Come in and get your pints for a quarter all day! And enjoy a buffet of authentic Irish food for a cool five spot!”

  I snatch the paper from his hands to re-read what he just said and my blood boils. White spots dance in front of my eyes.

  “Where the fuck did you get this?”

  He starts to laugh, and Ryan and Calvin are grinning like idiots behind him. Even Ainsley is looking amused. She doesn’t even realize what this means.

  “Calvin had it,” Devan says, winking. “But they’re plastered all over town. What do you say then? Me and you, down at Harry’s for a few St. Patrick’s Day drinks?”

  “Ainsley.” I shout as I’m untying my apron. “I’m going out.”

  I toss the apron under the sink.

  “What? What do you mean, going out? I can’t handle everythi—”

  “You can. Handle it. I’ll be back.” I grab my bag and hit the back door with a stiff arm on the way to my car and Harry’s.

  I practically run a red light on my way across town, skidding to a stop in a parking spot half way down the block from the entrance to Harry’s. I’m hot with rage when I hit the door and stomp inside.

  Everything is shiny. Every God-damned thing. The noise from the crowd fills the space. Every table is occupied, and the bar has patrons two deep. I see signs around the place offering three drinks for the price of two, free bar snacks with a round of drinks…

  I turn my body sideways and excuse myself as I press along the wall, trying to get to the back. I mean, God…there’s probably enough business for two pubs here, from what I can tell these folks are putting in the effort to drive The Parting Glass right out of business.

  When I get up to the bar, I push my way between a couple drinking some low carb beer and wave over the blond bartender who reminds me a little of Calvin.

  “What can I get you?” He smiles pleasantly, like he loves his job, and it just makes me grit my teeth tighter.

  “Who’s the owner?” I bark over the noise.

  “He’s—”

  “I am.” A man in his late thirties or early forties steps in front of the blond guy and extends his hand. “Henry O’Connor. Well, I’m the part owner, actually. What can I do for you?”

  “Part owner?”

  “That’s right. You’re not here from…” He drops his voice, and I have to strain to hear him over the noise in the pub. “HJB?”

  This isn’t making any sense. “I have no idea who that is. I work at The Parting Glass and—”

  “Oh, right.” He glances around the room. “I’m glad you came. Would you come through to the back with me?”

  I can barely believe what I’m hearing. “You’re glad I came? What does that even mean?”

  “Please?” He indicates with his hand to a door over on his right.

  With a shrug, I follow him through to an office that looks like it belongs to the CEO of a bank, not the part owner of an Irish themed pub in downtown Pittsburgh for God’s sake.

  “What’s this about?” I ask refusing to sit when he indicates the seat to me.

  He takes a deep breath through his nose and balls a fist under his chin, swiveling in his black and chrome desk chair. “What I’m about to tell you has to stay strictly between us, okay?”

  “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head. “We’re not enemies, you know.”

  “That’s a matter of perspective.”

  “My business partner—”

  The phone on his desk starts ringing, and he holds up a finger to pause whatever this is that’s happening.

  “You asked me to come back here. Now who’s more important on the phone? You’re rude.” I ask, refusing to just stand here while he orders me around.

  He looks at the display on the phone and a smile curls his lips. He picks up the receiver without even looking at me. “Boy, am I glad to hear from you, I’ve got a friend of yours—” He d
raws in a deep breath and shakes his head, his expression darkening. “I don’t see that there’s a lot we can do then, we’ll have to push ahead. I can’t wait forev—” His eyes widen at whatever is said on the other end of the line. “Double it? That’s a heck of a budget. Are you sure you can…no, I hear what you’re saying but that’s…well, sure, it’s just…I don’t think she’ll like it. See it as our fault if they have to lose the pub…”

  That’s when I see red. How dare he talk about our business right in front of me? How fucking dare he? “Lose our pub, you piece of…that’s our life.”

  He cups a hand over the phone. “Hey, that’s not—”

  I can’t listen. I won’t. In a heartbeat I’ve turned around and thrown the office door wide, and I’m running out into the bar area. This just isn’t fair. My parents built The Parting Glass from scratch, and they’re just going to muscle their way in. Double it. Yeah, I know what he means. Double the promotions. Double the number of customers they’re stealing. There will be nothing left and they’ll run us out of town.

  Pushing through the patrons, I find myself gasping for air, then I’m out in the street and fumbling for the keys to my car. I can’t believe this. I just can’t.

  “I locked the front door.” Ainsley sweeps by me with a self-satisfied grin. “You want another pint sis?”

  She emphasizes the last word, leaning in and giving me a fake kiss, and I shoo her away with a flap of my hand.

  Then she twirls as Calvin takes her hand and pulls it over her head. Her giggles are partly delight and partly shit-faced drunkenness.

  “Well I want another pint, even if she doesn’t.” Devan raises his empty glass.

  “Me too.” Ryan answers, then looks at me.

  “Three.” I chime in, finishing the last third of my Guinness in one gulp and letting out a satisfied sigh. My face is heated and everything has a hazy film around it.

  The owner at Harry’s talking about doubling everything has me riled. Even when I got the message from mum that a loan came through for them she told me it still wasn’t a saving grace, but it would get us through a few months until we could try to figure out how to pump some life back into the Parting Glass.

  “Don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight…” Ainsley yells at me once she gets behind the bar. Calvin has followed her, arms around her waist kissing the back of her neck, and she’s shrugging away but giggling. “Ever since you got back from wherever you stormed off to earlier you’ve been fun.”

  I never drink. Well, not never never, but rarely. And I think I’ve only been drunk once in my life, when I turned sixteen and Ainsley convinced me that peppermint schnapps would keep me warm at a high school football game. Not only did it not keep me warm, but I ended up throwing up behind the bleachers and my dad grounded me for a month.

  But tonight, I’m on a mission and that mission is to forget all about Harry’s Bar and the fact that all we are to them is a casualty of war. I’m also trying to push Brann out of my mind. The little ‘it’s too good to be true’ voice winning out over any girlish hopes.

  “You wanna play cricket?” I ask Devan and Ryan.

  “Sure.” Devan answers running a hand down his face. “No fun if we don’t play for something though. What’s the bet?”

  “Fifty bucks.” I answer.

  “I’m in.” Ryan laughs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash.

  I follow, putting mine on top of the pile of bills in the middle of the table. Devan does the same and we get up and grab the darts and set up.

  “You guys in?” Devan calls out to Calvin and Ainsley who are still playing kissy face behind the bar.

  Calvin waves him off and I point at Ryan.

  “You go first. Then me, and Devan last.”

  Ryan nods and takes his first three shots. He lands a twenty, a one and a triple two.

  “Fuck.” He grunts as he takes his seat back at the table. “Anyone going to bring us our beers?” He bellows, and Ainsley gives him the finger.

  “I’m coming, hold your panties on.” She answers, but I watch as she moves and starts filling the empty glasses from the tap.

  Ryan laughs, and it goes on just a little too long, evidently much drunker than me. “I think it’s you who needs to watch her panties. Right, Calvin?”

  Ainsley brings the beers, slapping Ryan across the back of the head in the process, and then after another gulp each we shoot a few more rounds.

  I stumble and nearly knock the table over as I come up to take my turn.

  “Hey, careful.” Devan mocks and reaches out to steady my next step.

  “I’m fine.” I brush his hand away, the words falling like syrup. “Watch, I bet you another hundred I can finish my bulls this round.”

  I have one bulls-eye already and I need two more to close them out.

  Devan squints at me but Ryan slaps his money on the table.

  “I’m in. But, if you miss…”

  “You guys can split the pot and I’ll put in another hundred.”

  They look at each other and nod, grinning.

  Devan shrugs. “Sounds good.”

  I can see they think it’s a sure win for them, but even in my altered state, I’ve been a ringer since I was about fourteen and I’ve been taking it easy on them so far.

  I step up to the line and just as I’m about to take my first shot, Ainsley’s shrill voice stalls me.

  “Hey.” She’s heading my way from where she and Calvin have been sitting facing each other on a couple of bar stools, kissing and ignoring the rest of the world.

  “What? Can’t you see I’m about to take a shot?” I half shout back with an annoyed shrug.

  She comes up next to my ear and whispers. “Calvin and I are going to take off, okay? Cover for me with Mom and Dad if you get home and they ask, okay? Just tell them I went home with Rachel, I’ll stick to the same story. I’ll be home in the morning before they get up.” She steps back and bites her lip holding her hands up in prayer fashion. “Love you…”

  Rachel is her BFF from high school, but if I wasn’t half in the bag I’d tell her to go to hell.

  “Fine.” I draw out the word. “Go. I’ll finish up this game and lock up.”

  “Thank you so much.” She mouths the words and spins on her heel before prancing back to Calvin. She grabs his hand and I watch as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they disappear into the back hallway behind the bar.

  I turn back and line up my shot. A quick glance over and Devan and Ryan tells me both are watching.

  Inside, I’m smiling as I take my first shot.

  “Damn!” I grouse as I hit a seventeen. “No way I’m in any condition to be betting.” I shake my head then line up my next dart.

  I focus, lean in and bam. Hit the bull straight on.

  I hear a collective moan from the guys and I turn and shrug. “Lucky.” Turning back, I close one eye to line up my last dart.

  When it hits just to the right of the one already stuck in the board, their moans turn to curses.

  “Fuck this.” Devan slaps the table.

  “Hey.” I work my way toward the bar. “Another free pint will take the sting off and we leave the pot in for the next game. Another hundred from each, double or nothing?”

  They agree readily, and I pull another pint for each of us and grab another hundred out of the cash drawer.

  “You know my whole paycheck is on that table now.” Ryan snaps.

  “Then you need to throw better darts.” I retort, but from his sneer he’s not laughing.

  Two hours later and another hundred from each on an all-or-nothing game, it’s pushing three AM. The dart board seems to move on its own and my feet don’t seem to want to stay put as I line up my shot. I’ve missed almost every shot I’ve aimed for in the last forty minutes and at this point, I just want this done and I need to get them out of here and go home. Not that I’m in any state to drive.

  I can walk though; it will take me almost an
hour, but that’s better than sleeping here on the lumpy couch in the back office. Besides, even with Ainsley being Ainsley, I did promise her I would cover for her so if I’m not home either, we’re both going to risk the wrath of Dad.

  And no way can I call and tell them I’m drunk and shooting darts after hours with customers.

  Devan stands behind me laughing then reaches over and runs his hand down my arm. We’ve just smacked our final money on the last bet, and I’m so far ahead of them on this game and so dang tired by this point I offer them an out.

  Another fifty bucks in and if I hit the center bull, I win. If not, it’s all over, I put in another hundred on top and they split the entire pot. I don’t expect to walk away with the pot, I just want this over.

  “Here, I’ll help ya, Ri.” He grabs my hands and presses his body to my back.

  “Get off me.” The drunker I get, the more I sound like my mum. I swat Devan away and take my shot.

  To my shock, the shot lands smack on the center bull and I turn around to see Ryan coming up behind Devan with fury in his eyes.

  “Fucking hustle.” He’s screaming now, drunk enough to be capable of pretty much anything. He looks at Devan, pointing at me. “She fucking hustled us!”

  “Hey, I did not…” The room begins to spin and Ryan is right in my face screaming.

  The next thing I know, Devan is in my face as well. I back up until I’m flat against the wall next to the dart board. Their faces are blotchy and red, eyes wild, and I turn my face, squeezing my eyes shut feeling the spray of their spit as they yell. Hot, sour breath stings my nostrils as I bring my hands to cover my ears.

  I focus all my effort on trying to force myself to tell them just to take the money and go, but before I can, someone grabs me by the hair.

  I start kicking and yelling unintelligible words and I wonder how I let myself get here right now. There’s a splash of liquid that hits my face and has me gasping for air through the stench of stale beer. Droplets hit my neck and start to run down the front of my shirt.