“The singing being one of them?”
“The singing, the synchronized bottle flipping, and something he’s calling ‘Gay History Happy Hour’ where he educates people about queer bartenders while making their drinks.”
“That’s . . . very specific.”
“That’s Benji.” Finn shrugged while making something blue and sparkly that looked like it could power a small city. “Want your usual booth?”
“Is it even available?”
“For you? I’ll make it available.” He finished the drink and handed it to someone. “Give me two minutes.”
He disappeared into the crowd. Two minutes later, a couple rose from my corner booth and Finn was gesturing me over.
“Your table, sir,” he said with mock formality.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to. Just had to offer them a free round or three.” I couldfeelhis smile as I sat. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me, too.”
“Want anything? Food? Drink? Protection from whatever Benji’s planning next?”
“Surprise me.”
Finn’s eyebrows went up. “He’s a brave man.”
“I’m feeling spontaneous.”
Finn’s brow stayed that way. “A spontaneous family lawyer. That might be the oxymoron of all oxymorons.”
“What can I say? I’m complex.”
Finn’s smile returned, brighter than ever. Then his gaze drifted downward as Icrawled into the booth.
“Nice jeans.”
I felt my face heat. “Too much?”
“Not even a little.” Finn leaned down, his voice low and raspy with a dose of mint and clover. “I bet they’d look better on the floor.”
I blinked, unable to reply, as he disappeared toward the bar.
Benji was behind the bar now, no longer directing his choir, making four drinks at once while also teaching someone how to pronounce “Aperol.” My booth was close enough to hear most of what he said.
The crowd was loud, happy, and engaged. Everyone was talking, laughing, and living. A few were still humming or singing. One couple in a darkened corner near the bathrooms was making out.
This was what I’d been missing.
This energy. This life.
This feeling of being part of something instead of just observing it from behind a desk or through a computer screen.
I sucked in a breath, drinking in the youthful vibe and endless laughter drifting through the place.
Finn returned with a drink that looked like liquid sunset. It was orange and pink and topped with something that might have been edible flowers.
“Benji made it,” Finn said, setting it down. “He calls it ‘The Gay Agenda.’ I have no idea what’s in it, but everyone who’s tried it has loved it.”
