I spun the bottle in my hand. Knowing good alcohol from swill had never been my strong suit. I’d have to take her word for it.
“Seamus gets the same thing every time he comes in. I’m trying to expand his palette. Iknowhe’ll like this. He’ll think you’re bold. Then he’ll show up in a few days and order another bottle, I’m sure.”
Julie might only know Seamus through his liquor selection, but the depth, that’s what scared me about Firefly. How many assumptions did she make from pure conjecture? What if he had a reason for buying the same bottle week after week? Did she do it because she honestlyknew,or was she imposing?
In Firefly, I could never tell.
“Okay.”
Walter raised a glass in salute. “Tell Seamus he owes Audrey and me a double date.”
Harvey looked appalled. “What about me?”
“You can’t go on dates with your sister.”
Harvey snatched the glass from Walter’s hand. “She said the same thing about you,” Harvey said with a smug look. “And look at us now.”
I guess that answered my burning questions. They might not be gay, but they were closer than most couples I knew. I tried imagining myself leaning over the table with them, joking about nothing and everything all at once. What would we laugh about? What would we even have in common? Small talk? No, that didn’t exist here. They know me inside and out, and I’d either have to join along or… the image of me vanished.
“Anything else? If you really want to impress, you could pair it with some tequila.” Her eyebrows wiggled up and down.
“Just this.”
She sighed. “I’m just saying, you’re missing out.”
I know she meant the booze. But I couldn’t help but glance back at Walter and Harvey as they linked arms and tried drinking from their glasses. They didn’t care who caught them in an act of… glee? Stupidity? No. Happiness. Somewhere deep down inside, I had to admit I envied them. Neither of them had any doubt they belonged. They were the epitome of Firefly, and not in a bad way.
Before my brain could latch on and turn it into a production, I finished the exchange. Taking the bottle, I bolted and left the envy at the door. On the sidewalk, I ignored it and instead focused on the event ahead of me. Four bears, dinner, and some damned expensive whisky.
The thought of seeing Nick again? Pure smiles.
WHISKY AND WISDOM
“What am I doing?”
When I arrived, Seamus hadn’t been waiting on the porch with his rifle. I couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or if he’d save it for later. I had broken out my cleanest jeans and t-shirt. It took some digging to find one that didn’t have a crude saying on it. Was this a formal situation? Should I have found a button-down and a tie? Glancing over my shoulder, I estimated a hundred feet to the truck. I could be out of here before anybody noticed.
“You drink at a bar with mobsters, and you’re scared of a dress code.” It sounded outlandish when I said it out loud. I paused long enough to raise my arm and take a quick sniff. Good. Deodorant hadn’t lost the fight.
I knocked.
I heard stomping approaching the door. Without a word, Seamus opened the door. I might hold my tongue, but Seamus offered a masterclass in being reserved. I think he gave a slight nod of the chin. He made no move to step aside or invite me in. We entered a staring contest, a battle of wills to see who would cave first. His eyes held firm. Locked and unblinking, I couldn’t read his face. Seconds dragged on for an eternity.
I relented. “This is for you.” I held up the bottle of whisky.
He took it and turned around. “Boots off.” His tone came out flat but not rude. “We’re not heathens.” Did Seamus crack a joke? I came inside, shutting the door behind me.
“The guest of honor has arrived,” came a voice from the kitchen. “Seamus, pour the man a drink. Dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes.”
I had to survive forty-five minutes of small talk. I checked the time on my watch. Forty-four minutes and fifty seconds. Kicking off my boots, I tried to shake the dread, the feeling I had to be on the defensive around these men. Seamus had fooled me once. He’d lure me in with that stand-offish demeanor, acting just gruff enough. Then, when I least expected it, he’d have me shoveling manure for the gardening club.
I stood in the entry, not quite sure where I should be going. If it were anybody else, I’d head to the kitchen and grab a seat while we talked. The rifle hanging on a peg on the wall suggested I should be aproperguest and wait for instructions. I tried peeking around corners to see if Nick might already be here.
“Are you just going to stand there?”
Seamus came out of what I assumed was the dining room, with the whisky and a couple of glasses in hand. He gestured to the room across the hall. I led the way into an impressive living room. The bookshelves reached the ceiling flanked the fireplace, but instead of books, most of the space had been taken up by vinyl. A mantle carved from dark wood hung above a low fire, lined with framed photos. Even from here, I recognized Grace’s graduation photo.
“Ahem.”
