The Last Call (MMG Book 5)

by Hilliard, R. B.

  Five minutes later she walked back in with a strange look on her face. Then she said the words I’d been both excited and dreading to hear, “I think I’m in labor.”

  Chapter Six

  Polly and Harry

  ‡

  Polly

  “No, Mom, I haven’t met anyone who strikes my fancy, yet.” I listened to my mother blather on about marriage and wanting grand babies as I brushed the top coat of pearlescent blue nail polish on my toes “Good Lord, woman. You act as if there are a million fish in the sea. You know Charlotte. Trust me when I say the well is dry. Did I tell you about my date last week? Over dinner, the guy explained how his psychic mother had a feeling that I was ‘the one.’ The restaurant smelled like manure. At least, that’s what I thought, before I accidentally dropped my napkin on the floor. What man takes his shoes off under the table? Oh my gawd, the smell was horrendous!” Mom’s howl of laughter made me giggle. It was funny now, but last week it was just plain gross. My other line beeped, and I checked to see who was calling. “Hey, Mom, Dillon is calling. Let me call you back tomorrow.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I was kicking myself. I should have never answered the damn phone. Dillon was in the middle of a two week paternity leave. That left Kurt in charge of the bar. When Kurt asked if I would pick up some extra shifts, I thought he meant with the wait staff, not bartending. I absolutely hated bartending. It was too fast paced for me, and I always ended up forgetting a main ingredient or three. When Dillon informed me that Kurt was on his way to the hospital with Joss, and he needed me to step in as bar manager for the night, I couldn’t very well say no. Well, I could, but not if I wanted to keep my job. So, I found myself about to run the entire show on my only night off. Heaven help us all, I thought as I raced to get ready.

  I arrived at Dragonfly with just enough time to let the employees in, give them instructions, and prep the bar. Our first customers walked in to a very quiet bar.

  “Music!” our new waitress, Jaye-Marie, whisper-shouted across the bar.

  Crap! I knew I’d forgotten something.

  As the couple slid onto the barstools in front of me, the guy said, “I’d like a –”

  “Hold that thought,” I interrupted, and quickly raced across the bar and hit play on the Intelli-Tunes. Marilyn Manson’s song about Mephistopheles blasted through the speakers, and I tried not to cringe. The moment I finished taking the first drink orders, a stream of customers walked through the door. We were off and running.

  * * *

  Three hours later…

  “Ma’am, I’m not sure what this is, but I ordered a margarita!” a customer with a very big mouth shouted. If I had to listen to one more of Dillon’s songs, I was going to slit my wrists and call it a night. Tonight, of all nights, the place would have to be packed to the gills. I was the only one in the entire bar who marginally knew how to work the damn machine, and somehow, I’d gotten it stuck on Dillon’s playlist. We’d been trapped in music hell for the past three hours and I wanted to cry. Helena, the other waitress working the floor tonight, had tried to call Lena for me. Unlike yours truly, Lena was smart and didn’t answer her phone.

  “It’s a margarita,” I argued.

  “Margaritas are made with Tequila, not Gin,” he snidely retorted. Oh shit. I must have grabbed the wrong bottle again. Is it my fault they all look the same?

  “Well, I guess you’re going to have to suck it up then, because my margaritas are made with Gin!” I snapped.

  “I drink my margaritas with gin all the time!” a familiar voice called out. Harry. I glanced in the direction of his voice, but didn’t see him. “Over here!” he said. My eyes snapped to a short haired, immaculately dressed, fit looking man perched on a barstool directly in front of where I was standing. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What in the hell happened to Harry?

  “Can I get a Bud Lite?” A woman down the bar shouted. After picking my jaw up off the bar, I nodded in her direction. As I poured her beer, I thought back on the last time I’d seen Harry Greenfield. Had it really been six months?

  “I’m crazy about you, P. You have to admit, there’s mad chemistry between us.”

  “I care for you, Harry. I really do. The sex is great, but I’m not ready for a commitment,” I lied. The truth of the matter was I was more than ready to commit, just not to Harry. Harry was a great guy and all, but he seriously needed to grow up. I wanted a man in my life, not a boy. Yes, the sex was good. Oh, hell, who was I kidding, the sex was amazing, but the guy needed a serious reality check. All the guys I knew had steady jobs. Most of them even owned their own businesses, and here was Harry – working in a record store by day, while smoking pot, and getting fat from a constant case of the munchies by night.

  “That’s cool,” he shrugged. “We have all the time in the world.”

  “No, it’s really not cool, Harry. If I’m hanging out with you, I won’t meet anyone else. I’m sorry, hon, but I think it’s best if we both move on.” I shrugged off his look of hurt. He may not have plans for his life, but I certainly did with mine, and a dope smoking, t-shirt wearing fat dude wasn’t part of it.

  “You look under water,” the subject of my thoughts called out. “Can I help?” I couldn’t help but stare at him. Gone was the pudgy faced man-boy, and in his place was… someone worth looking at. Harry was never going to be like Kurt, Max, or any of those guys, but that never bothered me. I liked him anyway. However, I never envisioned him being…this.

  “Could you speed it up?” Someone down the bar shouted.

  Flinching, I turned to Harry and asked, “Can you take orders, while I make drinks?”

  He smiled, and my stone cold heart sputtered to life. “I can do one better. I can take orders and make drinks,” he said. Before I could respond, he maneuvered past the crowd and slid in beside me. “You’re looking good, sweetheart,” he said in my ear as he scooted past me and down the bar to take drink orders.

  So are you, I thought.

  * * *

  Harry

  The look on Polly’s face when she saw me was priceless. Eat your heart out, sweetheart.

  A little over six months ago, I handed my heart to the only woman I’ve ever loved. I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t for her to hand it right back to me with a nice, big, fucking “No Thanks” attached to it. She accused me of having no ambition. To her I was a loser who worked in a music store. Little did she know, but I owned the fucking store as well as twelve more across the country just like it. Completely devastated, I turned to my cousin, Kurt, and his best friend, Max, for advice. They basically told me I was never going to get the girl if I didn’t make some serious changes in my life – starting with cleaning my act up and losing weight. The first few months were hell. I stopped drinking and smoking pot. Then I threw out the junk food and started eating healthier. At Max’s advice, I began training three days a week with Leroy Benny. Each time Benny asked me why I was doing this and I answered, “Polly,” he scowled. Then he proceeded to kick my ass. Polly Henry was my dream woman. From the moment I set eyes on her, I wanted her. Not only was she beautiful to look at, but she was smart as hell. She was amazing both in and out of bed, and I wanted to spend the rest of my life making her mine.

  As I shed the pounds, however, I began to gain perspective. I was chasing a woman who clearly didn’t want me. Polly didn’t know me. In all the time we’d spent together, she never once asked about my job. I initiated each conversation we’d ever had, and every one of them centered around her life and her friends. I knew practically everything there was to know about her, but when all was said and done, she didn’t know a damn thing about me.

  I lost thirty-five pounds in the first three months. To celebrate, Max and Kurt took me to Whisky’s and got me drunk as shit. For the first time since our senior year in high school, Max and Kurt weren’t the only ones getting noticed by the women. When I turned down an opportunity to go home with a beautiful woman named Hanna
h, they both thought I was nuts. I probably was, but in my mind there was only one woman for me, and her name wasn’t Hannah.

  Five months into my transformation, something changed. Suddenly, I wasn’t exercising for Polly anymore. I was training for me. I wasn’t eating healthy for Polly, but was doing it for me. Instead of my every waking moment being consumed with thoughts of getting the girl, my thoughts were directed at how to be a better me. Don’t get me wrong, I still planned on getting the girl, but I began to realize that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I didn’t.

  I walked into Dragonfly tonight expecting to find Kurt and Dillon in their usual spots behind the bar. When I instead discovered Polly, I almost got cold feet. What if she didn’t notice? What if I’d read it all wrong, and it wasn’t about appearance or weight, but was that she just didn’t like me as a person? After a long pause, I thought, fuck it, and sat down and waited for her to notice me. When her beautiful blue eyes scanned right over me, I almost stood up and walked out, but then some douche at the bar complained about having gin in his margarita rather than tequila, and I had my opening. After everything I’d been through, I simply had to take it.

  “I drink my margaritas with gin all the time,” I announced. The guy shot me a dirty look. Polly’s eyes shot my direction, and she scanned the bar. Have I really changed that much? When she saw me, her eyes flared with surprised recognition. In that moment, it all became crystal clear. I wanted Polly Henry, but not at the expense of me. Never again would I let a woman define me. Yes, I’d become fat and complacent, but I was still a person with feelings. Deep down where it counted, I was the exact same man, and the only way I would end up with Polly was if she realized this.

  Three hours after I stepped behind the bar, I helped her close it down.

  “Thank God you showed up,” she said as she rinsed and dried the last glass of the night.

  “You never said where Dillon and Kurt were,” I commented.

  “Dillon took two weeks off after Leo was born and apparently Joss was admitted to the hospital earlier tonight. Dillon said it had something to do with the baby.”

  “Damn,” I muttered as I whipped out my phone and checked my texts. Sure enough, there was a text from Kurt. I read over it, and relaxed when I realized it wasn’t too serious. “False labor,” I announced. “They’re keeping her overnight, but she and the baby are just fine.” I slid the phone back in my pocket and glanced up and into the most gorgeous blue eyes I’d ever seen. The air crackled between us, but neither of us spoke a word.

  “It’s been a long time,” Polly finally said. I drummed my fingers nervously on the top of the bar. The moment I’d been waiting for was here, and I was acting like a tongue tied idiot. “You look great, Harry,” she continued.

  My tongue came unglued long enough for me to answer, “Thanks.”

  “You haven’t been–” she started to say.

  “How have you–” I said at the same time.

  We both laughed.

  “Where have you been for the past six months?” she asked.

  “Did you miss me?” The second the words escaped, I wanted to take them back. So much for not being subtle, dumb ass.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” she lobbed back at me.

  “Just not enough to call,” I countered. She cocked her pretty head and sucked in a deep breath. My eyes dropped to her tits. Jesus, the woman had the most beautiful tits I’d ever seen, or for that matter, touched. Her tongue nervously brushed across her bottom lip, and I felt as if my cock was going to explode in my pants.

  “A lot has happened in six months,” she hesitantly admitted.

  “Such as?”

  She shuffled from one foot to another, before answering, “Such as too many shitty dates to count.” I knew she wasn’t pining away for me. Hell, I’d even heard Piper refer to Polly as a dating machine, but there was something about hearing it from the horse’s mouth. While I’d been busting my ass to become a man she’d be proud to date, she was out fucking every Tom, Dick, and… definitely not Harry. Nope, definitely not Harry. It was time for me to leave.

  “It’s late, and I have to be at work early tomorrow,” I announced.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you for rescuing me tonight,” she awkwardly replied.

  “It was great seeing you again, Polly.” As I leaned in to kiss her cheek, she turned her head, and our lips collided. The next thing I knew, I was backed against the bar with her fingers in my hair and her tongue in my mouth. This was definitely not the way I’d planned the evening to go. It took everything in me not to lift up her skirt and fuck her into next year, but what would that prove? I already knew I could get into her pants. Before she had my dick in her hand, and I was rendered mute, I tore my mouth away and extracted myself from the cushion of her perfect body.

  “Take care, Polly,” I said, and started for the door.

  Halfway across the bar, she called out my name. “Harry!” I closed my eyes and smiled. Then I turned to see what she wanted. “Uh, can we…hang out sometime, or something?” Her tentative tone told me everything I needed to know.

  “You still have my number, right?” I casually responded.

  “I do.”

  “Give me a call tomorrow and let me know when you’re free this week.” She twirled her hair around her finger, which was a telltale sign she was feeling insecure. Before she could answer, I was out the door and headed for my car.

  The ball was firmly in her court.

  Chapter Seven

  Max and Ellie

  ‡

  Max

  The sound of Ellison doing the toilet tango woke me from a dead sleep. Evidently, she thought if she turned on the shower, I wouldn’t be able to hear her retching. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Thirty more minutes until the alarm goes off. Nope, not gonna happen. The sound of the toilet flushing got me moving. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to hold out. I hated that my wife was so damn sick, but I hated more that she was lying to me about it. In no mood for games, I shoved back the comforter and got the hell out of dodge.

  Ellison made it into the kitchen right as I was about to feed Mac his morning gruel.

  “You’re up early,” she said as she peered over my shoulder and down into the bowl of nastiness.

  “Mamamamamama,” Mac happily chanted.

  “Is Daddy feeding you bananas again, big boy?” Bananas were the only thing in those little jars that smelled half decent.

  I held up the spoon. “Can you take over? I have to be at the office in thirty.” After switching places, I dropped a kiss on her minty lips and headed for the shower.

  On my way out the door, I gave her another kiss. As I stared into the eyes of the only woman I’d ever loved, I almost gave in and confessed that I knew she was pregnant…but then I remembered our promise of no more secrets, and thought, damn you, Ellison.

  An hour later, I was drinking coffee in my office while mulling over a new engine design, when Gage strolled in. From the strained look on his face, I could tell something was up, and I was pretty damn sure that something had to do with Neel Garrison. Ever since that dickhead had moved to town, we’d had nothing but problems.

  “Rough morning?” I asked.

  Gage handed me a billing sheet for his half of the garage. “If this shit continues, I’m going to need to close my half of MMG,” he announced. I scanned the numbers. I had to admit, they didn’t look good. Gage nodded to the paper in my hand. “As you can see, he’s poached most of our smaller clientele.”

  He began to pace a hole in my carpet, and I said, “Talk to me.”

  He dropped to the chair in front of me and raked his fingers back and forth across his goatee. Gage Blackwell was a stand-up guy. He kept his cards close to his chest, was loyal to a fault, and was beyond trustworthy. These were only a few of the reasons I’d asked him to partner with me at MMG. He was also a genius when it came to building motorcycles, easy to work with, always cool under fire, and p
ut up with zero bullshit. The only person I’d ever seen ruffle his feathers was Dooley Shane. Make that Dooley Shane, and now, Neel Garrison.

  “Remember the night I took Piper to Garrison’s house for dinner?” he asked. I nodded. “Well, Garrison offered me a job.” What the fuck? He now had my full attention. “That was after his wife came onto me in front of my wife, we ate shit I’d never even heard of for dinner, and drank hundred year old scotch in his study,” he continued.

  “What the fuck?” I asked.

  “When I turned him down, he threatened me,” he added.

  “With what?”

  “Dooley Shane. He claims he knows shit about the not so above board part of my relationship with Dooley.” The sound of the guy’s name left a bitter taste in my mouth. Dooley Shane may be six feet under, but somehow the fucker was still managing to wreak havoc in our lives.

  “What shit?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”

  “How did you respond?”

  “I told him to fuck off and to leave me, my family, and my friends alone.” Neel Garrison was a giant tool. He was smart, but we were smarter, and we had something he didn’t. I snagged my phone off my desk, scrolled to Cas’s name, and hit the call button. “Who are you calling?” Gage asked.

  I held up my finger. When Cas answered, I hit the speaker button, and said, “Hey man, we have a situation. How soon can you get to the garage?”

  “If this has to do with the wedding, I’m busy. You figure it out,” Cas growled. Gage shot me a smirk, and I saluted him with my middle finger in response.

  “It’s business, but now that you mention it, I need the song list today.”

  “Garrett and I can be there in thirty,” Cas clipped, and hung up. His terse tone made me smile. Even though I busted his chops every chance I got, I really did like the guy. He was good for my sister and she was crazy about him.

  Exactly thirty minutes later, Cas and Garrett walked into my office. Gage and I gave them the download on Garrison, and an hour later we had formulated a plan.