That earns me his sly grin, and he pulls away too soon, then waits for me to leave before locking up the container again.
“Right. Where to next? I can’t wait to meet more people who hate my guts.”
We end up following the river to an impressive-looking timber building. It’s large, with a front deck that overlooks the water, and when we head inside, all I can do is look around in shock for a minute. It’s a bar. Huge gleaming counter, racks of alcoholbehind it, chairs and tables all along the left, and down the end are pool tables and a jukebox.
I turn to Ziggy like I might be hallucinating. “Is that actually real?”
His eyes crease with amusement as he takes my sleeve and leads me toward the bar. Then he steps around to the other side.
“What are you doing?”
He waves his hand over the bottles behind him before pointing to a lower fridge.
“Get out from behind there before you get into trouble.”
He lets out a laugh that I have a second to bask in before it’s joined by another. A man with a ball cap and ponytail comes out from the back, cradling an armful of Coke bottles.
“No one’s getting into trouble,” he says. “We serve ourselves. Now, can you tell him what you want so he can get out of my way?”
“A … a Coke. Is fine.”
The man hands over a bottle before Ziggy shifts so he can get to the lower fridges.
“Didn’t think I’d see another brother here,” the guy says.
“Ziggy was showing me around. I’m guessing Hudson’s been here too?”
“A few times with Wilde.” He and Ziggy share an amused look. “Never thought I’d see the day he was swooning over some guy.”
“Wilde? Scary dude with a beard?Swooning?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve never seen that man so giddy in my life.”
Considering every time I see him, he’s all scowly and grunting, I’m going to call bullshit on that one. “I don’t see it.”
“You don’t know him.” The man finishes putting the bottles away and then straightens and offers me his hand. “I’m Rooney, the only mildly sociable one around here.”
That pulls a smile from me. “Kennedy.”
“Ah, yes. The nice brother.”
“Is that what I’m known as?”
Rooney plants his elbows on the bar top and props his chin in his hands. “Is it a lie?”
“Not … a lie. Exactly.” When it comes to my brothers, I’m a saint in comparison, but nice is such a bland description. “What do you know Hudson and Hartwell as?”
“The Romeo and the ghost.”
“Ghost?”
“Sure. No one ever sees him.”
“And … Hudson’sRomeo?” Well, that would be a first. Goddammit,Ishould be Romeo.
“He did bring our savage leader to his knees.”
I don’t get it. All they did was gripe at each other the whole time they were sleeping together, and that somehow led them to being the Romeo and Juliet of this place? Maybe Wilde’s End is more backward than I thought.
