I head to the stockroom and enter the code on the new lock Pres installed. While we trust all of our current employees a hell of a lot more than Jace, Pres and I are the only ones allowed in here.
It reduces risk and Presley’s stress level, which is always a win in my book.
It takes me less than a minute to grab a bottle of triple sec and head back to the bar. But as I turn the corner of the hallway, I stop dead in my tracks. Sitting toward the end of the bar with a familiar-looking brunette is my former best friend, Hendrix Creed.
He’s wearing teal blue scrubs that seem almost too small for his large frame. His head is tilted back in laughter as Pres works behind the bar, pouring him a pint while she talks.
He looks so different.
I knew he would. I’ve seen his face everywhere—at Velvet that night, in pictures at Presley’s apartment, and even in the damn grocery store aisle. But seeing him in person is a whole other experience.
As a kid, I thought he was destined for the stage. He just had a quality that made people sit up and notice him.
Now, there’s no questioning it.
Hendrix Creed is a honest-to-god rock star. And he’s about to find out I married his sister.
I stand there, sort of frozen.
What the fuck do I do?
We hadn’t exactly planned this part out. Pres was nervous about telling him, so she was kind of hoping the element of surprise would do most of the work for us.
But now I’m standing back here, and they’re…there.
Pres turns to grab a bottle of wine and catches my gaze. Her eyes grow wide, giving me that look that says,Get your ass over here, then turns back to her brother without even missing a beat.
I take a step back toward the bar, but stop myself.
Hendrix is now my brother-in-law. I shouldn’t greet him for the first time in twelve years like a stranger behind the bar. I should greet him like a friend.
So I step into the crowd instead.
Creeds is packed tonight, which is good for us, but bad when you’re trying to get from one end to the other. It takes a little while. I have to sidestep a Barbie, give directions to the bathroom to a gruesome-looking chef, and endure a chorus of wolf whistles from a group of women in the corner who probably need to be cut off.
Finally, I make it to the other side. I step up to Zara and Hendrix just as I hear him say to her, “What the fuck is that?”
Presley nervously licks her lips. “Oh! That’s the surprise I wanted to tell you about. I got married!”
Zara and Hendrix look at each other. Hendrix turns back to his sister. “To who? If you say Jace, I swear to God…”
My wife looks up, eyes pleading. Time to intervene.
“Hey, Hendrix.”
He whips around in his seat and looks me up and down as if he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing—or who.
“You remember Hollis, right?” Pres says, behind him.
His eyes narrow on my left hand before turning back to his sister. “What do you mean,do I remember Hollis?Are you asking if I remember my best friend? Of course, I do. What I don’t remember is being invited to your goddamn wedding. What the fuck, Pres?”
“Hen…” Zara places a hand on his thigh.
“I wanted to tell you in person.” Pres’s eyes start to water.
“I’ve been home for a month!” He fumes.
“That’s enough.” I step forward, my voice calm. “You got something to say, Hen? You say it to me. But you will not raise your voice to my wife.”
