by J. Kenner
“Tomorrow?” He did that delicious head tilt again, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. “Is that a promise?”
But she just smiled. “Goodnight, Tyree,” she said, then closed the door.
Sometimes it really sucked to be a grownup.
Chapter Seven
After Eva shut him down, Tyree knew he should head back to The Fix and put in a few more hours. He wasn’t officially on the schedule tonight—Reece was the manager in charge through the rest of the week—but there was always work to be done, and most nights Tyree was eager to do it.
Not tonight though. Tonight, he felt off.
Tonight, he just wanted to wander.
It had been a long time since he’d done that, actually. Just strolled along Sixth Street and checked out the restaurants, the bars, the theaters. Things had changed since he’d first moved to Austin, but not so much he didn’t recognize the place. Sixth Street was always humming, and it was easy to get lost in the light and the noise, the smell and the rhythm.
Right then, he wanted to get lost. Wanted the rhythm of the street to wash away the strange disappointment that was flowing through him. He shouldn’t care so much that Eva had turned him down. He shouldn’t want so much to sit with her across a table and watch her sip whiskey.
She liked it neat, he remembered. She’d only been nineteen, but she’d drunk her whiskey neat. Her father, she’d told him, had insisted she learn how to drink real liquor. No froufrou cocktails for her. Not on her Daddy’s watch.
He wondered what she’d think of his menu at The Fix. Of the fun cocktails like the Sparkling Pineapple and the Fizzy Watermelon. Hell, maybe he’d fix her and Elena a pitcher of his special sangria. Or some Candy Corn Jell-O Shots. Then they could see if Elena was more Eva’s daughter or his.
Thoughts of Eva and Elena filled his head as he walked east on Sixth, not stopping until he’d almost reached the highway. He crossed the street, his stomach growling when he breathed in the scent of yeast as he passed the Easy Tiger Bake Shop.
As he got closer to The Fix, he realized that he’d had a destination in mind all along. Not his own place—his competition.
Bodacious.
There were other bars in the area, of course. And technically all of them competed. But Bodacious was particularly vile. A corporate bar with franchises all over the country, Bodacious was the kind of place that hired managers who made it their mission to suck the marrow from local establishments. And even in a town like Austin that thrived on the concept of local, a place like Bodacious with its deep pockets could reshape the face of a neighborhood.
He paused in front of the glass and chrome entrance with the faux car parts and the scantily clad mannequins. Inside, the real waitresses wore even less. Shorts so short they were practically bikini bottoms. And T-shirts cut off so that the red lace of the servers’ matching bras was impossible to miss.
The hostess stand was unmanned, and he took a menu, then studied it, wrinkling his nose at the unimpressive array of drinks that he knew were more water than liquor.
And yet this was the place that was grabbing his customers.
Honestly, he wouldn’t believe it. Except that he saw a few of his former regulars over in the corner, huddled over a bucket of fries, dollar beers in front of them, and ESPN blaring from the television mounted just a few feet away.
“We give them what they want all the time,” Steven Kane said, seeming to materialize at Tyree’s side. Then again, Tyree had always thought that Kane was a vampire, sucking the life out of the community. So maybe he had formed out of dust and smoke.
“You give them girls in next to nothing and lame drinks.”
Steven grinned. “Like I said. Besides, you’re doing the skimpy. Shirtless men on stage? Sounds like exploitation to me.”
“Give it a rest, Kane.”
“Hey, I’m not criticizing. Who knows? Maybe we’ll start doing the same thing. Competition’s the American way, right?”
Tyree turned away, really not wanting to look at Kane any more than he had to. As he did, he caught sight of a familiar face. “Is that your idea of competition?” he asked, nodding toward Aly. “Going into my place and poaching my employees.”
“I pay a living wage. Most people find that hard to turn down.”
“I can’t keep you from talking to them, but if I hear that you’re talking to them inside The Fix, you and I are going to have some private words in an alley. Are we understanding each other?”
Steven held up his hands. “Why so angry? Come on, Johnson. Let me buy you a drink. You need to relax.”
“Just stay the fuck out of my way and out of my bar. Are we clear?”
“I need to go see about a guest. But feel free to stay. Have a drink. I recommend the Pinolicious Punch. Fabulous.”
And then he scurried away like the little rat he was. Pinolicious his ass. A complete rip-off of Tyree’s Pinot Punch, he was damn sure of it.
He was still seething when Aly came over. “Hi,” she said, looking small and contrite and very awkward. “I’m really sorry. I just needed the extra money. And the tips. I should have told you first. I was gonna try to cover both jobs for a few weeks. But I don’t think I can handle it.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I get it.”
The truth was, it was his own damn fault. Tiffany had warned him that Steven was courting Aly, and Tyree hadn’t wanted to lose the excellent waitress he’d trained as a bartender. But he hadn’t done a thing to keep her. Not yet, anyway. And now he really had no one to blame but himself.
He started to go, then paused and turned back to the girl. “The Pinolicious Punch. Is it—”
“Almost,” she said. “But not really. And not as good. Apples instead of peaches. And no Schnapps. Kane says that takes the base price up too much.”
“Thanks,” he said, feeling better. Because that really did sound like one nasty-ass drink.
Still, the frustration over losing Aly ate at him, and he made a mental note to look over payroll. They always needed good bartenders. Maybe The Fix could justify hiring her back at a higher pay rate.
Work and family battled it out in his head as he reached his car, then drove the short distance to his house. But as soon as he stepped inside, family won. It always did when he came home, because here was where Eli was the priority.
But it wasn’t just Eli now, was it? Sure, the boy was his only minor child. The only child for whom he was legally responsible. But that wasn’t the issue. Elena was his. She was family.
And there were decisions to be made.
Exhaustion swept over him, and though he wanted to fall face down in his bed, he moved quietly through the house to Eli’s room, pushed open the door, and watched his sleeping son.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, but just seeing the boy steadied him, and soon enough he moved to his own bedroom. He was exhausted. Tired and drained and desperate for sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come, and after an hour he ended up in the living room on the couch in his boxers and a T-shirt with the TV on. Not that he was paying attention to the show.
No, his mind was back on Eva.
At the time he’d asked her to go downstairs for a drink, he hadn’t been entirely sure what he wanted her answer to be. But apparently he’d been hoping for a yes, because her no was damn sure bothering him.
Why?
For a brief moment he imagined the feel of her naked body pressed against his, all soft and curvy and his. But no. That wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t.
He didn’t want or need the complication of sex. All he wanted was for Eva to tell him about Elena. About the years that he missed. Her babyhood. Her first steps. Her friends, her dreams.
He needed Eva to be a scribe for him, writing the missing memories of his daughter on his mind.
That was it. That was all it was.
Easy. Simple.
And now that he knew, he should be able to sleep.
Yawning, he returned to his bedroom, th
en slipped between the cool sheets. He closed his eyes, remembering the way Teiko’s petite body tucked against his. Nothing like Eva’s long limbs. With a flash of memory, he recalled that Eva used to kick him in bed. One time, she’d even got him in the balls. Restless leg, she’d called it.
How the hell had he forgotten that?
He opened his eyes, then looked at the near-empty bed that suddenly seemed too full.
With a sigh, he once again slid out of bed. This time, he took his pillow with him to the living room, then settled down on the couch to sleep.
He didn’t know how long it took before he slipped under, but when he clawed his way back up to consciousness, the room was full of light, and his son was standing over him.
“So what’s up with you?” Eli demanded.
Tyree rubbed his head as he sat up. He blinked, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. “Just couldn’t settle last night.”
“No, I mean, you watched me sleep. What was that about?”
“You were awake?”
“Not really. You know where you’re like half in a dream? It was weird.”
“Just wanted to check on my boy.”
Eli frowned, like Tyree was a crazy person, but shrugged. “So why the couch?” He looked at Tyree’s pillow, making clear that he wasn’t going to fall for any bullshit about accidentally falling asleep there.
But since Tyree couldn’t exactly tell his son that he’d been feeling strange—maybe even guilty—about the bed that he’d shared with Eli’s mother, Tyree just shrugged.
He couldn’t tell him that, but he had to tell him something.
With a sigh, he pushed up off the couch. “Come on. Let’s go make French toast.”
Eli’s eyes actually went wide. “Oh, God. Am I in trouble?”
Tyree chuckled as he looked over his shoulder at the kid. “What? No. Why?”
“We only have French toast when we need to have a talk. I know about sex, Dad. I’m all good.”
Tyree grimaced. “Do you need to get to the hospital this morning?”
“Nope. I’m staying over at Jeremy’s lake house until Saturday, remember? It’s got this amazing room with a big ass TV, and we’re going to kick back and play Overwatch.”
“That video game?” Tyree asked, and then continued at Eli’s nod, “Sounds like one hell of a good time. I won’t keep you long. And you’re not in trouble.”
“Okay,” Eli said, but he sounded dubious. “I’ll get out the bread.”
Apparently they’d had quite a few talks over the years because Eli pitched in with the cooking without any instruction from Tyree, and soon enough breakfast was on the table. Despite his best intentions, Tyree hadn’t managed to bring up Eva or Elena. But as soon as he sat down, he knew that he had to. Eli was his boy, and he deserved to know.
“You can just spit it out, you know,” Eli said, a sticky piece of French toast on the end of his fork. “Unless you were lying and I really am in trouble, in which case take all the time you want.”
Good God, was it any wonder he loved the kid?
“I dated a woman before I met your mom,” Tyree said.
“Well, yeah. I mean, I kinda assumed.”
“She’s in town.”
“That’s totally cool. I mean, I get the whole sex thing. It’s been like a long time for you, huh, Dad?”
Tyree almost spit out the orange juice he’d just sipped to wet his damn mouth.
“Christ, Eli.”
“What?” He stirred a piece of bread in a pool of syrup. “I thought you were going to tell me you wanted to see the lady.”
A knot twisted in Tyree’s stomach, because maybe he did. But that wasn’t something he needed to think about now.
He took a deep breath. “I just found out she has a daughter.”
Eli’s eyes never left his face. “Oh. Oh, wow.” The boy leaned back, considering that. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Well, like, she’s yours right? ‘Cause why tell me?”
“Yeah.” He felt pride swell as he thought about Elena, a remarkable young woman for whom he’d had the tiniest bit of responsibility in creating. “Yeah, she’s mine.”
“Like I said, okay.”
“I’d like to get to know her,” Tyree added. “And I—I hope you’re okay with that. That you’ll get to know her, too.”
Eli finished off his French toast. “Well, yeah. ‘Course I am. She’s your kid. And she’s my sister.”
“Half-sister.”
“Same thing. How old is she? Is her dad okay with all this?”
“She’s twenty-three, and he’s not in the picture. Her mother divorced the man she married after me a long time ago. Elena doesn’t even really remember him.”
“Elena. Okay. Well, yeah. It’s all cool, Dad.” He pushed back. “Can I go to Jeremy’s now?”
Tyree studied his son, looking for signs that this was the kid’s way of escaping, but all he saw was a boy eager to go play his favorite video game.
“You’re okay? You don’t need to talk?”
“About what?” He looked at Tyree’s face, then exhaled. “Come on, Dad. You remember Raptor, right?”
Tyree fought back a shudder as he thought of the gangbanger and the two years after Teiko’s death when Eli had come so close to going off the rails. “Yeah, I remember him.”
“He was a screw-up, Dad. I know that. I’m cool. Don’t look so freaked. I’m just making a point.”
“Which is?”
“His dad basically told him to fuck—I mean shove off. And it messed with him. I’m not saying that’s the reason Raptor turned out like that, but I figure it got under his skin.” He lifted a shoulder. “But his dad was a real a-hole, and you’re not. So, of course you’re going to want to get to know her. Same goes for me if she’s my sister. It’s kind of a no-brainer.”
“Huh.” Tyree leaned back in his chair.
“What?”
“You’re pretty mature for a sixteen-year-old.”
“Yeah?” His face lit up. “Remember that when I ask for a car.”
Chapter Eight
“So you’re really not mad that I gave him your room number?” Elena asked as they dug into waffles in the 1886 Cafe at The Driskill.
“You really shouldn’t have. A room number? Elena, you should know better.”
Her daughter rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I gave it to just any guy on the street. I mean, he’s my father. So it’s not like the sight of you in a room with a bed will weird him out. I mean, exhibit A.” She pointed to herself. “There was sex at some point.”
Eva rubbed her temple. “Sometimes the inner workings of your mind baffle me.”
“I am a mystery,” Elena said.
“And you still shouldn’t have told him the room number.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “Better than your phone number. I mean, you’re only going to be in the room for a few days. Give him your phone number and he can hound you forever. Even if you decide you don’t want to talk to him anymore.”
Eva frowned, then lifted her hand to signal for more coffee. “He’s your father. Of course I’d talk to him if he wanted.”
“You didn’t last night.”
Eva leaned back in her chair as the server refilled her mug. “And there it is.”
“What?”
“That sharp mind that earned you summa cum laude.”
Her daughter rolled her eyes. “I come from good genetic stock.”
“Uh-huh. Way to butter me up.”
“What makes you think I was talking about you?”
Eva laughed. “Fair enough.” She pushed back her empty plate. “Shall I get the check? I want to see your apartment.”
“Sure. Just please, please, Mom, keep in mind that it’s not my place. So you can’t dive in and redecorate.”
“I’m not interested in the paint job. I want to see the area and the building. I want to know that my baby’s safe.”
Elena rolled her eyes.
“It’s in the parental DNA or something.”
“What is?”
“Tyree hardly even knows me, and he said the same thing last night. He wanted me to text Gordon and see if it’s okay for me to change the locks, because who knows how many guy friends Gordon’s given a key, too.”
“He said that? It’s a good point.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too. So I texted Gordon this morning and he’s cool with changing out the locks.”
“You can use my credit card for the locksmith,” Elena said, once again relieved to know that her daughter had access to a high-limit credit card. And, more importantly, was responsible enough not to use it for makeup and cocktails.
“It’s all good. I texted Tyree right after. He said we could drive out to the apartment after my meeting at the bar and he’d change them for me.”
“Meeting?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I was talking with the security guy yesterday—Brent—and he said that I should talk to Reece or Jenna. They might have a job for me.”
“Oh.” Eva leaned back in her chair. “Well, that’s excellent. And it just makes me more convinced that I’m not making a huge mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“Going back home.”
Elena leaned back, then forward, then back again. “Wait. What? You’re leaving?”
“You have a place to live, and you found your father and, most likely a job. Even if you don’t end up working at The Fix, it’s clear he’ll help you out. And you should have the chance to get to know him.”
“But—”
“So I’m going to go back to San Diego tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow! Why?”
“Because tomorrow’s Friday and I leave on Sunday for Vancouver, remember?”
“Yeah, but…”
“I’ll come back after my vacation and check on you.” She leaned across the table and took her daughter’s hand. “You’ll be fine.”
“Go back on Saturday.”
Eva felt a tug at her heart. In so many ways Elena was a grown woman, but being out on her own and away from her home town had brought out the little girl who needed her mom. “I can’t do that, baby girl. That only gives me one day to get everything packed and ready before my vacation.”