by K. C. Enders
I love my job; I do. I get to sleep late, drink at work, and have constant access to lovely, willing women. But I can’t just tend bar for the rest of my life. I don’t know what Francie’s plans are for McBride’s, but he’s not getting any younger. Maybe a business degree will give me some options. Maybe I can help Francie, show him I’m responsible and that I can take on more responsibilities here at the pub.
“Finn, my man, how’s the single life treating you?”
Andy’s a regular, and he has been giving me shite for as long as I can remember. I slide his usual down the bar to him before continuing to wipe down the liquor bottles.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I spin a bottle of whiskey round in my palm before dropping it back down in the well and picking up the rum to run my bar rag over it.
“Tell me about your latest. I have to live vicariously through you.”
He quickly drains his pint, and I take it straight from him to refill. Andy needs a beer on the house every now and again. His youngest has been poorly, and things are tough at home for him.
“Erm, no one new today, man. Not since Marlee last weekend.” I throw him a smirk as the words tumble out of my mouth.
Marlee was really damn appreciative of the time we spent in her bed, her kitchen, and after that thing in the shower.
Christ, that shower.
I follow through. I had all kinds of follow-through with Marlee, and her neighbors can vouch for it.
“Andy, can I ask you a question?” I lean my hands against the bar for a moment, arms spread wide.
He wipes the beer off his upper lip and nods. “Sure.”
“I follow through with things, yeah? I-I don’t leave you hanging and wanting for more?” I pull at the label of the vodka bottle resting in front of me in the well.
“Uh, you give me beer when I need it. Is that what you’re looking for? Validation in your job, Finn?” Andy chuckles as he takes another draught of his beer.
Everyone treats me like a joke, and I’m not sure what that’s all about. I work hard. I’m here on time for almost all of my shifts, certainly more often than not. Chat with the patrons and entertain the ladies. I’m good at what I do. Better at some things than others, and I sure as shite haven’t had any complaints in a long time.
3
Adelaide
“What’s the difference between you and a calendar?”
“A calendar has dates.”
Aidan’s website is about finished. I have a handful of questions that I have to ask him, but they’re things we need to go through in person. Face-to-face, and I’m avoiding that at all costs. He has been really easy to work with, making changes and adjustments, but I just don’t want to have to leave my cozy apartment.
It’s been snowing on and off for the past week since I went to McBride’s for our initial meeting.
Eric is snuggling with me hard today, burrowed into the blanket draped across my big, comfy chair. He sighs and starts snoring lightly as I run my fingers down his back. This should be reason enough to never leave my apartment. There is so much contentment right here. It would be inconsiderate to disturb his peace.
Just as I’m about to close my eyes and take a little nap, my phone pings with an email notification from an older client wanting to tweak things yet again on her site. It’s like the thousandth time she’s decided to change everything. Everything. This is one of those reasons I don’t like having to deal with people.
Maybe I did actually fall asleep for a bit because, when I open my email, I have four unread messages. Three from the continuing education program I work with and one from Aidan.
I fire off a response to my pain-in-the-ass client and let her know what to expect for additional fees. Thank God I put a PITA clause in her contract, outlining incremental charges for all changes after the third round.
Aidan is checking in to see if there is anything further I need from him. His girlfriend is ridiculously lucky. He is such a nice guy—kind, thoughtful, always concerned that he’s being a pain in the ass.
Hardly.
The last set of emails gets progressively more urgent. The instructor who was lined up to teach a course on basic computer use bailed at the last minute. And they know I can’t say no to them. Their computer programs are heavily attended by the cutest little old ladies. They help me when I’m missing my grandma, and I can’t seem to resist them.
The new class starts this afternoon, so I slide out from under Eric and drag myself to the bathroom to shower and do my thing. I take a few extra moments to twist my hair into a funky braid before swiping on a coat of mascara and a little tinted lip balm. Though they frown at my septum piercing, the older ladies seem to like my colorful hair, and with Valentine’s Day approaching, they’ll probably make a big fuss over my festive pinks.
I shuffle through the posted syllabus for the continuing ed class and update the slides I have from the last time I filled in for this course. After checking my pantry and finding it woefully lacking, I pack up my computer and press a kiss just behind Eric’s ear.
I need to stop on the way to the community center and pick up some cookies from the bakery. My ladies will be bringing me homemade cookies for the remainder of these classes, but since they don’t know yet that it’s me teaching, I need to make sure to bring some goodies.
The parking spot right out in front of the bakery and coffee shop opens up just as I approach. I park carefully, being mindful of the never-ending snow as I turn in. The selections inside are nothing short of mouthwatering, but knowing my ladies as I do, I stick with the giant, chewy chocolate chip cookies and the biggest, darkest roast coffee they have. My nap wasn’t nearly long enough to knock the cobwebs from me.
Glancing at my phone, I check the time and hurry back out to my car. As I settle the box of cookies on the front seat and straighten up to grab my coffee off the roof of the car, I see a little silver hatchback careen past me down Main Street. There’s no mistaking the fact that I know that car. It almost hit me, running me off the road the last time I was over this way.
Peering down the road, I see the car turn into the parking lot of McBride’s, the wheels skidding wildly, the back of the car swerving until the driver regains control. A tall form unfolds itself from the driver’s seat, and there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s him—Finn.
Is he out to get me for real?
By the time I get to the community center, my coffee is half-gone, and I have just enough time to make copies of my handouts before the ladies start showing up. Several of them have taken this course before. With me or one of the other instructors. I think they use it more for a social hour, but between this and the knitting classes they teach, they have a place to be. A place to hang out with each other and spend time with their friends. Lord, even in my head, it feels like I’m commenting on wayward youth as opposed to members of the grandparents and great-grands clubs.
Loaded down with coffee, cookies, handouts, and my computer bag, I stumble into the computer lab and almost drop it all before I catch myself. Thankfully, the only thing I manage not to save is the stack of handouts. They slide out of my arms, seemingly in slow motion, and scatter across the floor.
“Well, shit,” comes the sweet voice behind me. Louise looks at the mess before waddling over to me to wrap me in a warm, rose-scented hug. “I’m so glad we have you this go around, Adelaide. That other guy they have teaching sometimes doesn’t let us have cookie and coffee time.” She looks genuinely put out by that inconvenience.
Squatting down, I gather the papers into a neat pile, placing the slightly wrinkled ones on the bottom. “I stopped by Sweet Treats and brought the first round. Sorry. If I’d known I had this session before today, I’d have baked them myself.” I look up and smile as the others start filing through the door. “Afternoon, ladies.”
“Adelaide, honey, why do you bother with all that paper? You know we’re not going to take them, sweetie.” Connie sets her big floral bag on the floor next to her computer and
makes grabby hands at me until I stand and let her hug me.
I’m so not a hugger. Nope. I don’t like people, and I don’t like being touched, let alone hugged. But this is different. And not a one of these surrogate grandmas is going to take no for an answer.
I unpack my laptop and connect it to the projector in case there’s actually someone new signed up for this session who plans on learning the basics of using a computer. The roster I have shows my usual suspects, but there could be a last-minute attendee.
“Are you going to pass those treats around, or are you going to make an old lady walk for her cookie?” Virginia asks from the desk right next to the door. She’s perfectly capable of walking the twenty feet, but she likes to play the poor-me card every now and then.
Connie turns and calls her out, “Virginia, how’s that tai chi class you teach twice a week going?”
“Fine.”
“Then, get your wrinkly ass up, and get your own damn cookie. You make people bend and breathe, but you think you can’t walk for a cookie?” Connie dishes shit like no one else. No one, except Virginia because that woman is the master shit-slinger.
My heart is happy with this crazy crew. I make my way around the room, offering up cookies before we get started to avoid any catfights. It’s blatantly obvious that I was not listed as the instructor for this session. My usually early attendees are dribbling in the door right up until the published start time. I guarantee, they will be early from here on out.
“Should we start this thing?” I ask while approaching the front of the room.
“Lord, yes,” Ellie responds. “I thought we were getting stuck with that stuffy Richard this time around. Did you switch with him, dear?” She’s looking at me over the top of her glasses as she turns on her monitor.
The rest of this crew though is snickering, a few mumbling about how stuffy Dick is.
I tilt my head from side to side and consider how to respond. I believe in honesty above all else, but I hate drama and sure as shit can’t acknowledge their twelve-year-old sense of humor. And there is nothing a bunch of little old ladies love more than drama.
“I think you might have scared poor Richard off.”
Eight sets of magnified eyes pop up to stare right at me. Some are surprised, a few are a tad bit confused, but most of them show nothing but barely contained mirth.
Master manipulators, the lot of them.
4
Finn
“Are you Jamaican? Because Jamaican me hot.”
“Actually, I’m Finnish—so Finnished with this conversation.”
I’m late. But it’s not like this is a real class anyway. Once I made the decision to go back to university, I went out and bought myself a new laptop. The spot-faced salesman promised me the graphics were worth the extra money, and since I’ll be using it mostly for social media, mostly Tumblr, until I can get into classes this summer, it seemed like a fantastic rationalization.
Now, I just need to get the instructor of this little community class to go through the setup on this thing, and I’ll be good to go. I had to beg Aidan to fill in for me this afternoon, but once my laptop is all set up, I’ll drop out and have no need for anyone to cover my Tuesday and Thursday shifts. Instead of having to squint at my tiny phone screen, I’ll have a crystal-clear, high-def, fifteen-inch screen for my Tumblr time.
I check the room number against the confirmation email I got when registering. The instructor is listed as Richard Johnson, but the voice I hear going over the course outline does not belong to a man. I planned on a guy getting the importance of Tumblr in full HDMI, but I can work with this. Maybe I can even get some extra credit out of the experience.
“I know we have a system, but we need to accomplish something this time. Turn your computers on, and…” The sweet voice does not match the vision at the front of the room.
It’s the girl from the pub, Aidan’s computer girl. Instead of being twirled up on top of her head, her hair is twisted into a pink rainbow plait hanging over her shoulder.
This is fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic.
The last row of seats to the left of the door is empty, so I saunter over, drop my ruck on the desk, and shed my jacket. My zipper is the only sound in the room. I open my ruck and pull my new toy from the bag. The outlet is inconveniently located on the floor under the desk. Down on my knees, I plug in the cord and take a moment to make the necessary adjustments in my jeans.
Had Richard shown up to teach this, there would be no adjustment. But this girl? This girl has me off my game once again. In fact, she’s got me so in my head, I don’t notice the red Converse that have settled next to my desk.
“What are you doing here?”
Startled, I hit my head on the underside of the desk and pray there’s no chewing gum stuck in my hair. I crawl out from my hiding space and look up at this girl. “I thought I’d brush up on my skills.” It’s not lost on me that I am literally on my knees in front of her, and I want to beg for a date, a taste, her name.
She rolls her eyes like it’s an Olympic event and turns to take her place at the front of the room. I slide into my chair and finish setting up my command center. Laptop, phone, “water” bottle. I push my ruck down to the end of the table and lift the lid of my computer before cracking open my beverage.
“Are you ready?”
I look around the room and notice that I am the only guy here. And that all the ladies, other than the pink-haired love of my hour, are over the age of seventy and could give my gran a run for her money. But they’re not giving me that hostile vibe. They look like they’re thinking. Scheming. Up to no good for certain.
“Ready and willing, love.” I swear, I see one of the ladies dabbing at her cleavage with a napkin. They all have napkins, some with half-eaten chocolate chip cookies from the bakery on them. “Erm, did I miss the portion of class where treats were handed out?”
I feel like I’m back in McBride’s with the way she’s rolling her eyes, and the over-seventy crowd is laughing at me.
“If I give you a treat, will you sit nicely and stay quiet?”
“Adelaide,” the cleavage-dabber chides, “that’s no way to speak to the nice young man.”
Right, I knew I’d heard Aidan call her by name in the pub. “Addie, I’ll do whatever you want, if you ask nicely and give me a little something for the effort.”
The collective gasp momentarily wipes the smile from my face. But I didn’t say anything too bad, did I? Plus, at least half of them have to be hard of hearing, right?
“Adelaide. It’s Adelaide,” she says with some bite in her tone, her teeth grinding against each other. “And you obviously aren’t getting any treats.” She stops herself just shy of stomping her foot and flicking me on the nose.
What does she think I am, a naughty dog?
“A word, dear. Stick with her full name, and you’ll do fine.” The lady across the aisle reaches over and pats my arm. “What’s your name, cutie?”
“Finn O’Meara, ma’am.” I shake her hand and use the manners my mum hammered into me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Call me Virginia. You’re not a native either then? Our Adelaide is a transplant from the Midwest,” she says while offering me a cookie from her stash.
“No, ma’am. From Dublin, but I’ve been here for a few years.” I reach out to take the cookie from my new best friend but pull back when I hear an outrageously loud throat clearing from the front of the class.
“I thought not,” Addie scolds.
I grin innocently over the top of my bottle. “I’d be happy to share, if that would make amends.”
The nip of whiskey I have in my bottle warms me as it slides down my throat. Not that I’m doing hard drinking, just a bit to make the class more tolerable. I offer the bottle to Addie because, if I’m honest, the only lips in the room I’m interested in sharing space with are hers. Especially her plump lower lip. The one that she’s abusing with her teeth. The one with just the tiniest sm
ear of chocolate that she somehow misses with every nibble and bite. The one I’ve dreamed of having wrapped around my cock every night for the past week.
I throw her the Finn wink, hoping to distract her as I adjust my growing problem—again.
All I’m met with though is a mumbled, “Antibiotics,” and a flip of her braid as she walks away.
5
Adelaide
“Are those space pants? Because your ass is out of this world!”
“No, these are baseball pants because my ass is out of your league.”
Finn’s very presence is annoying the shit out of me. Why is he here? This is my place, my zone. These are some of the only people I actually like, and this is one of the few places I enjoy hanging out, outside of my cozy apartment. For the love of God, he’s tainting it.
I do everything in my power to push him and his crazy, infuriating existence out of my mind. I’m here for my ladies. To fill my cup and get my grandma time in.
We go over the basics, just like I do at the start of every session. Turning on the computer, signing in, connecting to the internet. This is pretty much as far as we’ll get today because the cookies are gone, and Esther is out of coffee. We all have our limits.
“Okay. So, we’ll pick up here on Thursday. Does anyone need a handout?” I take the stacked papers and chuck them in the recycling bin.
“Erm, that’s it? We’re done for the day?” His feet are on the corner of the desk, and his crap is spread across all three workstations at the very back of the room.
“Do you really need to be here? Surely, you know how to check your email and Google shit.” I shove his feet off the desktop and twist my lips to try to suppress my grin when he falls forward to catch himself.