Jake and Elliot both scoff. “No way in hell,” Elliot snipes. “The only one coming back to that hotel room with us tonight is my husband.”
“Ourhusband,”Quinn corrects him.
“Mine,” Elliot rebuts. “Tonight, SS ismine. He stands with my idea to let loose tonight. Therefore, he is mine…”
Jake chuckles. “You sound like those seagulls fromFinding Nemo, for fuck’s sake.”
Seagulls.Gulligan. I wonder how my little baby birdy buddy has been doing without me here. I wonder how he’d get along with the puppy the girls and I adopted. Twinkie, a little dachshund we picked up at the local humane society.
Now, I may have matured a lot lately, but I can’t resist a good "wanna pat my wiener?" joke.
“Hey, did any of you happen to see a friendly acting seagull around here at all earlier?” I ask them.
Jake cocks an eyebrow at me. “Uh, yeah, actually. My hubby, who can’t be bothered to take off his Game Warden hat for an entire evening, found an injured one in the parking lot earlier—a young one. Leev insisted on contacting the local avian sanctuary to take him in.” Then, he narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not habituating that bird to humans… are you?”
“Me?” I scoff, flapping my hand at him. “Of course,” I blatantly admit. “Gulligan is my little buddy.”
Jake guffaws. “Lovethat name. I would have gone with Skuttle, though. Don’t let Levi catch wind of yourlittle buddy, however. He’s kind of a stickler about wild animals staying wild.”
I snort. “Then I won’t mention that my brother has a pair of raccoons…”
Elliot gasps. “That’s fuckin’ epic!” Then, he side eyes his twin. “Q, can we—”
“Absolutely not,” Quinn grunts. “You know I love animals, but weliterallyhave a full house now.”
“But I want a donk—”
“No,” Quinn reaffirms, cutting Elliot off.
“—ey. Goddamn it, Red! You never let me have any fun!”
“We have fun all the time.”
“Now you’ve done it,” Jake laments to me. He pats the bartop, then leans in and whispers, “Don’t let them get too drunk, though. They like to go streaking outside of bars if they’ve had too much.”
Quinn rolls his eyes. “Never going to live that down, are we?”
“Nah, Bert,” Jake says, “you’re too much fun to rankle. Anyway,” he adds, turning his attention back to me, “I’ve got the rest of the table’s orders.”
I pull out a pen and an order slip as he rapid-fire rattles them off. “I’ll take a rum and Coke. My hubby, the guy in the olive green shirt, just wants a Coke, hold the rum. Shart—er,Shane, my brothers’ Viking—wants a seltzer water.”
“Got it,” I note, tapping the pen on the paper. “You’re going to have to bear with me, I’m not one of those fancy bottle twirlers back here.”
“Oh. Okay, cool,” he hums as I get to work on mixing up their drinks to the best of my ability. None are all that complex, I’m just slow and beingbehindthe bar is throwing me off. I’m certainly nowhere near as good at this as Gordy.
Fuck, there I go thinking about Gordy again…
“What brings you out to Ternbay? Guys’ night out?” I ask, attempting conversation to cover up my blatant lack of ability.
Elliot grins. “First away game of the new season. We all play in an adult softball league, the Ridge Falls Raiders. Our little brother”—he hikes a thumb at Jake—“is a food blogger, so he found this place. Do you run Portside Pub?”
I shake my head and point to Taryn. “His dad owns the place, but he’d like totake it over soon.”
“Oh, no shit!” Jake chuffs. “I advertise places just like this on my YouTube channel. Lemme go see if I might be able to offer the kid my services,” he adds with a wink.
“Just make sure they’re your camera man services only,” the bearded man in the olive green shirt huffs, sauntering up behind Jake and wrapping a possessive arm around Jake’s mid-section. Must be the aforementioned husband. Levi, I presume.
Jake beams up at Levi. “Yes, sir.”
