by Morgan Brice
And you can explore the supernatural side of Myrtle Beach with psychic medium Simon Kincaide and skeptical homicide detective Vic D’Amato as they track a supernatural killer in Badlands!
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EXCERPT | Witchbane
Sonny
“Hey, Sonny! Did we get the new shipment of Jack?”
“Yeah, I haven’t unpacked it yet.” Sonny looked up from behind the bar at Tredegar’s—Treddy’s to regulars. “You need me to get you a bottle?”
“Nah. Just checking to see if it came in.” Liam, the bar manager, stood at the end of the counter. “Didn’t want to pay for it if it hadn’t arrived.” Muscular, red-haired and with a thousand watt smile, Liam was the reason so many singles in Richmond—gay and straight—found their way to Treddy’s.
“I’ll check it out. Need to restock, and I’ll put the rest away.”
Treddy’s took up three stories of what had once been an old tobacco warehouse. The unfinished brick walls and exposed wooden beams gave the place history and authenticity missing in newer buildings. Sometimes, Sonny swore he could smell tobacco, and when he looked up, it wasn’t difficult to imagine bundles of broadleaf hanging from the rafters to dry.
The first floor had the main bar and restaurant. The second floor boasted a dance floor and a DJ, and the third floor was mostly for catering and events. Sonny held court at the first-floor bar, a job he’d held since he came back to Richmond two years ago. Just one more stop on his long journey to shed his past, his family, and his stalker. Sonny hoped this time would last. He’d been bouncing around for seven years since he graduated from high school.
“It’s a bar, not a mirror,” Liam joked, as Sonny polished the heavily varnished wood. The counter and backbar had come out of a swanky club from the late 1800s. Rumor had it the chandeliers used to hang in ritzy Paris townhomes before Liam got them from a New Orleans antique store. The wood of the mantle over the fireplace had the maker’s chisel marks and was once part of a hundred-year-old barn. Put them together, and Treddy’s felt comfortably lived in, welcoming and warm.
“Hey, Sonny. You’re on early today.” Jackie, one of the servers, came by to pick up drinks for her table. Her Jersey accent stood out in the crowd of Richmonders, as did her Bettie Page black bob and bright red lipstick. She had always gone out of her way to make Sonny feel welcome and was one of the few people he counted as a friend.
“Been working a lot of nights. Needed to change it up a bit,” Sonny answered as he poured refills for the crowd at the bar.
“Tips are better at night,” Jackie replied with a shrug. She was a VCU student and one of the staffers who’d take any shift that came open to help pay for tuition.
“Nice to see some new faces. Keeps it fresh.” He didn’t want to get into what he’d told Liam, that he’d seen someone who looked like Mike, his stalker, and freaked out. It wasn’t Mike, he told himself. Mike belonged back in Oklahoma. But that hadn’t stopped him from showing up in Missouri and Ohio, popping up like a bad rash every time Sonny moved.
He rubbed his left forearm, over the spot where Mike had broken it. The injury didn’t leave a visible scar, but Sonny swore it ached on rainy days. Worse, it hurt like a motherfucker in his dreams. Three years later, and it’s still not over in my head. Maybe it never will be.
The police had taken his complaints, given him forms to fill out, and he filed a restraining order. Sonny had changed addresses, phone numbers, and jobs, deleted everything from social media, begged any sites with his photo on it to take down the information, started using a nickname at work.
Lately, he’d gotten up the courage to go on a few dates. Nothing serious, just some fun times and casual sex, which felt like an enormous step after leaving Mike’s crazy jealousy and unpredictable rages behind.
And then, that guy showed up. Not Mike, Sonny told himself, hating the way just thinking about it made his hands shake. He’d come up with an excuse to get close enough to see for himself that the guy wasn’t Mike. Yeah, there was a resemblance from a distance, but too many details were wrong to be Mike, even with a couple more years under his belt. Still, Sonny hated how it brought up old memories, dented his newly minted self-confidence. And the worst part was, stalker-Mike still wasn’t as bad as his first boyfriend, Trey, whose tearful repentance over being gay betrayed Sonny’s trust and got him kicked out of his house, his church, and their tight-knit small town. So he’d finally come back to Richmond, the city his parents had left when he was a kid, and hoped for a fresh start.
“Hey, over here!” A patron hailed him, and Sonny pulled himself out of his thoughts, hurrying to refresh the guy’s martini before his hair caught on fire.
Jackie was right about nights being better for tips, but Sonny had enough put by that he could do without, for a few shifts at least. Give him time to clear his head, get some sleep. Treddy’s did pretty well for a day crowd. Started at brunch and went on to the wee hours of the morning. The lunch crowd was split between corporate types and the “ladies who lunch” in their twinsets and pearls. Dinner picked up more mid-level executives plus the young professionals who liked the martini list and the atmosphere. Late night, the action shifted to the second floor, where the DJ made Treddy’s a good place for a hot hook-up, while the first floor took care of those looking for a tasty meal, fine whiskey, and a nice place to take a date.
Sonny lost himself in the rhythm of the work, swaying to the music from the sound system, watching for signals from the barflies for another round, hauling ass on orders, so the servers got credit for quick response. Although he’d never been much for the “shoulder to cry on” bartender stereotype, he knew his regulars and noticed when they were off their game.
“You doin’ okay, Pete?” He asked, leaving it up for interpretation whether that meant in life or needing another drink.
“Just a shitty day at work,” Pete replied. He had loosened his tie and turned up his shirtsleeves. “What else is new?”
“Sucks, man,” Sonny empathized. “But it beats a pink slip.”
Pete knocked back his scotch. “Not always sure about that. Maybe.”
Sonny gave him a commiserating smile. “Hey, you want to get something to eat with that?”
“Sure,” Pete said. “Fries and wings. The usual.”
Sonny put in the order, picked up food from the kitchen for the customers who were waiting, and scanned for who needed another drink. A glance out over the dining area told him they’d reached waitlist capacity, not bad considering it wasn’t six yet. The early crowd drew a mix, young and older, professional and hipster. Treddy’s had even found a new fan in a tired-looking off-duty cop who’d shown up a couple of times in the past few weeks. Something about the place just put folks in a good mood.
“What’ll you have?” He said without looking up as he saw a newcomer pull up a seat.
“Jack and Coke, please.”
The “please” made Sonny look up. Most people, even the polite ones, just put in their order, mumbling “thanks” if they weren’t too deep in conversation or their own thoughts. “Please” stood out. On second thought, so did the newcomer.
Well, well. That’s a fresh face. Um-hmm. Sonny took in the new guy without being too obvious. Tall—maybe a few inches over his own six-foot-one frame, a nice height to fit together. Broad shoulders, and the way the button-down clung in all the right places, Sonny bet on a toned chest underneath. Dishwater blond hair short on the sides and a little longer on top, fashionable without being trendy. Broad hands and long fingers. Bet he’s proportional.
“Coming right up,” Sonny said with
a smile, meeting the blond’s eyes with a hint of a wink, surprised to find them brown instead of blue. He came back with the drink and slid it toward the newcomer. “Taste it and see if it’s what you like,” he said, with a smile suggesting ideas of other things worth tasting.
If he’d had any doubts about whether the guy played for his team, the look that lasted a bit too long and the slight flush that came to the man’s cheeks answered the question. Sonny watched as the newcomer sipped, then licked his lips.
“Just right,” he said with a hint of a smile in return.
Shit. He’s cute. And alone. Sonny knew the two patrons on either side of the blond had been there before he came, and it didn’t appear the man intended to retrieve a drink and retreat to a table.
“First time at Treddy’s?” Sonny asked as the regulars on both sides of the man continued their conversations.
“Heard it was good.” He looked around. “Looks like it’s got some history. That’s…nice.”
“It’s the kind of place people keep coming back to,” Sonny said with a shrug. “Makes people feel at home.”
“Hey, Sonny—need you down here!” Izzy, a petite server with a pink pixie cut, looked ready to chew nails.
“What can I do for you, darlin’?”
“Don’t darlin’ me,” Izzy said. “Table five is giving me an ulcer, but if you mix their drinks strong, maybe they’ll ease up.”
“You got it,” Sonny said with a grin. Izzy had a temper, but for all her epic bitching, he’d seen her out back feeding scraps to the stray cats.
By the time he got back down the bar, he was afraid the blond would have moved on, but instead, the man nursed his drink as if he were in no hurry. “You want some food to go with that?” Sonny asked.
The man shrugged, and Sonny thought he seemed a bit uncomfortable in the press and hustle. “What’s good here?”
“Everything on the menu, and a few things that aren’t,” Sonny replied, with a flirtatious tone. Seriously? When’s the last time I flirted with a customer? Shit, I must really need to get laid.
“Any recommendations?” This time, there was no mistaking the way the blond held Sonny’s gaze, shifting a little closer to the bar. Sonny felt a tingle go straight to his groin.
“I’ve got a couple of favorites,” Sonny said, leaning in. “By the way, I’m Sonny.”
“Seth.”
“Nice to meet you, Seth. New in town?”
“Just visiting. I like what I’ve seen so far.”
That absolutely wasn’t in my imagination, Sonny thought. The new guy was definitely interested, but not overly slick. Either Seth was a master pick-up artist or his edge of self-consciousness was genuine—and very sexy.
“So here’s what I order,” Sonny said, bending closer to share the menu with Seth, just brushing his fingers for a second. He pointed to two or three choices, sure to please because everything was good. “What sounds good? And is that for here or to go?”
“For here,” Seth replied, pointing to his choice. “Maybe I’ll be up for some to-go later.”
Oooookay. Definitely on the same wavelength. This could be interesting. “Let me know, and I’ll go over the options with you,” Sonny replied, making direct eye contact. Seth didn’t blink or turn away, confirming that Sonny hadn’t lost his touch with reading signals.
“Be back in a few,” he promised, going to type the order into the system. Jackie came up to pick up more drinks.
“Since when are you in the game?” She asked just loudly enough for him to hear. “I’ve never seen you hit on a customer.”
“Technically, he’s hitting on me,” Sonny replied. “I’m just responding. It’s polite.”
“Sure it is.”
Sonny mixed her drinks and fiddled a few seconds longer down at the end of the bar. What was he doing? Not that Liam would care if he took a customer home with him. Wouldn’t be the first time one of the wait staff—or Liam himself—had hooked up with someone. But that wasn’t usually Sonny’s thing. Then again, he’d been gun shy since Mike, practically a monk—if you didn’t count the hurried hand jobs, porn, and jacking off in the shower. Pretty sure monks at least jacked off.
Maybe it was time to get out of his shell. Take the guy home, have a nice roll in the hay, and shake off the ghosts of the past. No strings, no complications. After all, Seth was just visiting, so no worries about him wanting more than Sonny was ready to give.
He set Seth’s order down in front of him. “Watch out; it’s hot.”
Seth smiled. “I like it hot.”
Sonny swallowed. Somehow, that didn’t sound totally cheesy coming from Seth.
“If you’d like, I could show you around when I get off at seven,” Sonny said. “Since you’re new and all.”
“That would be great,” Seth replied, and a bit of pink colored his cheeks.
Damn. Maybe it’s been a while for him, too. This could be a great evening. Sonny whistled as the next hour flew by. Even Izzy’s gripes about cheap tippers didn’t get him down. He had a date with a cute stranger. Okay, maybe a hook-up more than a date, but still, more company than he’d had in a while. This was just what he needed.
Seth took his time with dinner, nursing his drink and ordering fries and a Coke to give him an excuse to dawdle. That earned him points in Sonny’s book. By the time Sonny was ready to clock out most of the customers in the dining room had turned over from the early dinner crowd. Even the cop had moved on.
“I need to cash out my drawer and hand off to Eddie, and then we can go,” Sonny said, slipping Seth’s bill to him. Seth reached for his wallet and paid in cash. Sonny held his breath, wondering how the tip would go. Too little was an insult. Too much felt like paying for his company, given their plans. To his relief, Seth came in at twenty percent, appropriate for good service, not trying to buy favors.
“Tell us all about it tomorrow, you sly dog,” Jackie murmured as he passed her on the way to get his coat.
“I want pictures,” Izzy added with a rare smirk.
“In your dreams,” Sonny replied and found himself grinning. Fuck, what had gotten into him? This was hardly his first rodeo, and that thought led to wondering who might be riding whom. It might not even get that far, he warned himself, then tried to remember how well he was stocked for lube and condoms. More than enough for one night. Even if he’s…energetic.
He met Seth at the door, and they headed out. The October wind was cold for Richmond, but Seth didn’t seem to mind. “Not sure what you’re used to or where you’re from, but Richmond isn’t exactly New York when it comes to nightlife,” Sonny said. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s a great city. Plenty of history, close to the beach. And there are some good clubs. But it’s not a big party kind of place.”
“That’s fine,” Seth replied. “I’m not much for clubs.”
That made two of them, although Sonny had tried hard to fake it to keep up with Mike before everything went to shit between them.
“How about I give you the five-cent tour, and then see what you want to do next.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Sonny pointed out a few landmarks like the Iron-front building and the park by the Capitol, as well as rattling off some local trivia he’d picked up from the last time he’d helped out on game night. Seth seemed comfortable, but a little guarded, and Sonny found himself wondering what the sexy blond’s story was. Not that it mattered; they’d have a nice night together, and that would be the end of it. But still, something about Seth intrigued Sonny. Not to mention the fact that he had a great ass.
Sonny thought about what highlights to share from his newly adopted town. Richmond was a city torn between its past and its future. Glittering new office towers lined the waterfront, growing universities sprawled through the downtown, and well-groomed parks provided a great view of the James River. The Virginia Museum of Fine Art hosted world-class traveling exhibits, the State Capitol building and its fountain were photogenic, and tourists and locals floc
ked to the beautiful grounds at Maymont and the Louis Ginter Botanical Gardens. Downtown boasted a growing number of trendy shops, bars, and restaurants.
And yet, Richmond had a darker side, in the whispers suggesting that no matter how many years passed, the Civil War would never be over. At the Museum of the Confederacy and the Confederate White House, docents told a tale of the “martyrs of the Lost Cause” that could have come right out of Gone With The Wind. Monument Avenue’s statues were popular with history buffs, but the men they memorialized had long ago ceased to be defensible, except to those who even now refused to surrender. Richmond, like Charleston, New Orleans, and Savannah, was a beautiful city built on rivers of blood, and that past might never completely release its grip.
“Richmond has plenty of interesting stuff, depending on what you’re into,” Sonny said. “Museums galore, concerts, and NASCAR. Plenty of ghost tours. It seems like everything’s haunted—restaurants, hotels, churches, even an old collapsed train tunnel. Something for everyone.”
As a bartender, Sonny had plenty of chances to watch people, and he counted himself pretty observant. One of his favorite ways to amuse himself on slow nights was to make up a whole history for a stranger at the bar, and then see if he could tease out enough conversation to validate his guesses. He was right—or close enough—more often than not, at least on the parts he could customers to ‘fess up to.
Hmm. He’s alert, even when he’s trying to be relaxed. Cop? Maybe ex-military? He considered the haircut and figured on the latter. So who’s he visiting? “Family” didn’t feel like the right answer, and he’d shown up solo and willing to take Sonny up on his offer, so not here to meet up with a boyfriend. Somehow, Seth didn’t strike him as the tourist type. Maybe business, but not something he wants to discuss? Could be.
They bumped shoulders as they walked, too close to be just friends. Sonny was pretty sure he’d seen Seth sneak a look at his ass. He liked Seth’s long-limbed stride, and how confidently he moved, despite his height. Not graceful like a dancer, more the kind of smooth, seamless motion Sonny had learned in Tae Kwon Do before switching over to mixed martial arts. That would figure for ex-military.
