“I know. That’s what makes it so amusing.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, stuffing crap into my handbag. We’d been preparing to head to work. Given the swift departure of Eric’s waitress friend, Stella, I’d agreed to fill her shifts until a replacement was found. Or until it was time for me to leave town. Whichever came first. I was wearing my best black slacks and a matching Dive Bar shirt Nell had given me the night before.
“I’m giving us the night off.” From a cabinet she pulled out three wineglasses, rinsing them beneath the tap. “Lydia, Rosie, and I are doing some girl time. Be a darling and go away, would you?”
“I really need to start locking the doors,” Vaughan muttered, stretching out on the couch. “Who’s running the bar?”
“Eric.”
“And?”
“Just Eric.” Nell beamed. It was an unnerving sight. “He’ll also be tonight’s waiter. Boyd has got the kitchen under control, but otherwise, Eric’s on his own.”
Rosie also grinned like a loon.
“Is that good for your business?” I asked without thinking, and accepting a very large glass of red. “Wait. Never mind. Forget I said that. I will not rain on people’s parades with unnecessary practicalities they can figure out for themselves.”
Over on the couch, Vaughan gave me a small smile, a look of understanding.
“O-kay. It’s fine.” Nell laughed. “We probably need a voice of practicality around here. But the thing is, sometimes, you just have to teach people a lesson. Either that or resort to homicide, and I’d rather not go to jail.”
“Word,” said Rosie, taking a sniff of her wine. “Ooh. You grabbed the good stuff.”
“Of course I grabbed the good stuff.” She turned to her brother and me, curiosity filling her eyes. “So what have you two been up to today?”
“Vaughan worked on his car for a while, then he helped narrow down some potential sets of wheels for me.” I left out the part where my real estate agent pal had stopped by to take a look at the house.
“She wants a Prius.” Vaughan snickered.
“They get good mileage.”
“Lydia.” Nell winced. “No. Just no. Okay?”
Even Rosie seemed mildly terrified by my taste in vehicles.
“Do none of you care about the environment?” I raised my shoulders, amazed.
“It’s for your own good that we save you from this.” Nell held her glass of wine high, toasting my lack of style, apparently. “You’ll thank us one day.”
“I doubt that.” So this was what having friends involved. Maybe I should just get a pet rock or something. A plant, maybe. Anything incapable of answering back.
Once again the door swung open, this time care of the opposite sex. A tall dude with a massive beard and the sides of his head shaved walked in with a growler full of beer in each hand. Almost every inch of skin on him was covered in ink and a silver ring hung from his nose.
The instant he saw Nell, he stopped dead. “Shit.”
“Pat,” she said in a low careful voice. “I thought you were going to Whitefish.”
“Changed my mind.”
She nodded, gnawing at her lip.
“Hey.” Joe walked in behind him, another couple of growlers in hand. Seemed everyone was planning a party.
Last came a slightly older guy. Not as tall as the other two, but built and very good looking, in an I’ve-seen-some-life way. Gray streaked his short spiky hair and the stubble on his jaw and cheeks. In one hand he carried a guitar, in the other he balanced a couple of big pizza boxes.
“Andre.” In a rush, Vaughan got to his feet. “Fuck, man. Good to see you.”
“Thanks for letting me know you were back.” Andre thrust the guitar at Vaughan, all the better to grab the pizzas with both hands. “Joe had to tell me.”
“Sorry.” Vaughan took the guitar under one arm, holding it ready to play. Then he strummed a chord. “She still sounds sweet.”
“Course she does. Martins only get better with age.”
With a wry smile, he handed the instrument back, taking charge of the pizza. “I don’t want to go falling for something I can’t afford.”
Andre laughed, shook his head.
“Lydia,” said Vaughan. “Want you to meet some old friends of mine, the one with the Gandalf-length beard is Pat. He owns that tattoo parlor next to the bar.”
“Hi.” I raised a hand in greeting and the man gave me a chin tip.
“And this here is Andre.” Vaughan gave the man’s shoulder a squeeze. “He’s the one who taught me to play. Bought my first guitar off him when I was ten. He’d just opened his store.”
“Yep,” said Andre. “Took all your Christmas and birthday money.”
“Typical.” Joe set his growlers down on the dining table. “Ripping off small children. Should be ashamed of yourself. Bet you stole their candy too.”
Ever so discreetly, Andre flipped him off.
“Oh, it cost me,” agreed Vaughan. “That secondhand Epiphone had taken some hits, but you were right. She had a beautiful sound, did the job and then some. I’ve still got her.”
“No shit?”
“Haven’t played her in a long time. But I couldn’t bring myself to let her go.”