“I don’t think so, but I happen to have a close personal relationship with that ass, so I’d like to know why you think it’s smart.”
I let a laugh escape and turned around. “Hey, Macon.”
He took a stool right in front of me. “Hey, this piece of work bothering you?”
I poured Macon his usual Thursday night drink, a Long Island Iced Tea. “Nah, he was just leaving.”
“Are you two involved?” Suit still hadn’t gotten lost. I guess I could give him points for determination—although those points would get him nowhere with me.
“We live together, don’t we, honey?” Macon winked.
“We do.”
“Oh. I see.” Suit finally got up.
“Do you see?” Macon spun around on his stool. “The other guy she lives with is in the kitchen.”
“Other guy?” Suit’s eyes widened.
Thankfully I got another customer and didn’t have to listen to any more of the conversation. Macon was sweet at heart, but he tended to take things a step too far. He liked being the center of attention, and he didn’t always care whether I felt the same way. By the time I served another Sex on the Beach and two Rum Runners, suit was hanging all over the blonde.
I leaned on my elbows in front of Macon. “Was that really necessary?”
“What? I was just telling him the truth.”
“The truth? We’re roommates, Macon, not some live-in threesome.”
He laughed so hard he coughed on his drink. “Live-in threesome? Yeah, if you want that, we’re switching Brody for a girl.”
“Oh, come on, baby. You think I want to share you?”
He set down his glass. “One of these days you’ll discover what you’ve been missing.”
“I will? When?”
“Soon. Real soon.”
“Thanks for the specifics. I wouldn’t want to miss it.” It’s not like Macon wasn’t good looking. Not at all. There were few girls that could resist the charming smile that belonged to my brown hair, blue-eyed roommate. I was one of them. My ability to joke about sex with Macon was a new thing. We kind of broke the ice on it when we drunkenly kissed one night at a party my sophomore year of college. It didn’t take long to realize neither of us wanted that to happen again. We did, however, like to joke about the possibility. I don’t know why, we just did.
He finished off his drink. “You’re laughing now.”
“And I’ll keep laughing.”
“We’ll see about that. When you get cold this winter, I know what bed you’ll be running to.” He crumpled up a cocktail napkin.
“I just made a mental note to buy extra blankets in case you shut off the heat.”
“Would I ever do something like that?”
“Yes.” He wouldn’t. He’d be more likely to turn up the heat so I wouldn’t get cold.
“Three Shark Baits and two Shirley Temples.” Mary rested her tray on the bar. Of the waitresses at the grill, Mary was my favorite. Sweet and funny as hell, she made the busy summer nights move faster. We hung out every once in a while, but she spent most of her time with her young daughter.
I busied myself making the drinks. The Shark Bait was one of our signature tropical selections. Overpriced, and pretty much only pineapple juice and peach schnapps, customers usually cared more about the plastic shark attached to the cup than the actual drink.
Right on schedule, Brody took a seat at the bar. He always timed his break with the beginning of the first set on Thursday nights.
“You smell like fish.” Macon wrinkled his nose.
I filled Mary’s tray, but she lingered. I got the sense she was into one of my roommates, but I couldn’t tell which. My bet was on Brody. She’d told me she had a thing for tall guys. Macon wasn’t a small guy, but he looked tiny next to Brody’s six-foot-three frame. Brody claimed his mom made boys big and that his older brothers were actually bigger. I wasn’t sure if I believed him.
“Really?” Brody looked down at his black Surfside Grille t-shirt and then over at Macon. “It almost seems like I’ve been cooking fish all night.”
I laughed, and Brody winked. “Give me my usual, Maddy.” He took it in stride, but I knew how much he hated his job.
“Like you have to ask.” I placed his Coke down in front of him. He couldn’t drink at work, but really the only time he drank alcohol was late at night once in a blue moon.
He opened his straw. “Thanks. So do you have your drink picked out for tonight?”
I nodded. “Yes. It’s the right one. I can feel it.”
Mary smiled. “Ohhh, it’s Thursday night, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, this week went fast.” I picked up some empty beer bottles someone left on the other end of the bar.
“What do you think of all this?” Macon treated Mary to his full attention. “Do you think Maddy’s ever going to give up on this loser?”
“No. She’s dedicated. When a girl’s dedicated, she never gives up on a guy.” She twirled a piece of her reddish-blonde hair around her finger.
“I get that, but there’s an easy solution.” He turned back toward me. “You know that right, Maddy?”
“An easy solution?”
“Tell the guy you want to go home with him. If he says yes, you’re in. If he says no, you had no chance to begin with.” Macon laughed, letting me know he knew there wasn’t a chance in the world I’d do it.
“Thanks.” Used to the ribbing by Macon, I didn’t let it get to me.
“Fantastic advice.” Brody shot me a sympathetic glance. “What’s the drink tonight?”
“An Algonquin. I’m convinced he’s a whiskey guy.” I left out my narrative on the history of the drink, those usually didn’t go over well.
“Oh yeah? Should we plan the wedding? He likes whiskey, so he’s got to be a catch.”
“Shut up, Macon.”
“No, it’s too much fun.”
“Good luck, Maddy.” Mary smiled before heading off to deliver her drinks.
“Oh, look. The man of the hour has arrived.” Macon laughed again. He seemed to do that a lot at my expense. If he wasn’t my best friend, he’d have never gotten away with it. Our history made it different somehow. Besides, I usually managed to throw it back at him.
My heart sped up slightly as I caught sight of the musician that had me drooling every Thursday night. My fascination with him went beyond his athletic build and piercing brown eyes, although those traits didn’t hurt. What really got me was his music. He sang the most haunting songs. They found their way under my skin in a way that music usually couldn’t. “I think he got hotter.”
“It must be that white t-shirt. It’s so over the top.” Brody grinned. His teasing never went as far as Macon’s, but he definitely did his share.
“I like that shirt on him.” I liked everything on Lyle Waverly. In all honesty, I’d been dreaming about him wearing nothing quite often. Although in those dreams, his guitar usually blocked my view of his lower region.
Macon grinned. “Oh damn, she’s imaginary fucking him again.”
“I am not.” I swatted at Macon. “I’m admiring the view.”
“Really? That expression on your face says otherwise.”
“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes.
“Brody, man. Is it healthy that we’re supporting this perverse hobby of hers?”
“What makes it perverse?” I crossed my arms over my black t-shirt. Unlike Brody’s, the logo on mine was small and on one side of my chest. “I’m just trying to find the perfect drink for him.”
“Because you’re convinced it’s the ticket to getting a guy to like you. That’s not normal.”
I let my hands fall to my sides. “Who defines normal?” He was wrong. I didn’t think it would make him like me, but it would help me understand him.
“Oh no. No getting all philosophical on us. We’re here to support you. Don’t put us through it.”
“Support me?” I ran a hand through my just-past-shoulder-length dark br
own hair. “My mistake. I thought you guys were here to mock me and get free drinks.”
“Who’s getting free drinks?” Max, my boss, picked that moment to join us. I’m sure it wasn’t random. He usually kept a close eye on the outside bar when I worked it alone. I think he worried about male customers bothering me.
“No one. Maddy would never do that.” Brody took a long sip of his Coke.
Max put a hand on the bar next to me. “I’d complain, but Brody works here and Macon brings in enough business with his dates.”
I gave Macon a patronizing smile. “See, I knew your man slut ways would serve a purpose one day.”
“Man slut? Is that really how you see me?” Macon feigned hurt.
“Yeah, but what do I know? I’m the one with the perverse hobby.”
“Perverse hobby?” Max gripped the edge of the bar. “I told you that living with two men was a bad idea.”
I smiled at my protective boss. “It’s nothing like you’re thinking.”
“Oh.” He noticed what had my attention. Lyle was leaning against the railing, watching the sound. “You still pining over that musician?”
“Yes.” I sighed. “Pathetic, huh?”
“Not pathetic, but unnecessary.”
“Oh? Are you offering your services, Max?” Macon smirked.
“Me? Of course not.” Max turned pink. “She’s young enough to be my daughter. I’m talking about that real estate kid who is always hanging out when she works.”
I knew who he meant immediately. “Kid? Colin is at least twenty-five.”
“That’s a kid.” Max always pretended to be really old, but he only looked like he was in his fifties. “But what’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing’s wrong with him,” I mumbled. “I have a date with him tomorrow.”
“What?” Brody slammed his glass on the bar.
“He came by earlier and asked me out again. I decided, why not?” I tried to make it sound nonchalant, but I understood their surprise. I’d been turning the guy down all summer. I’m not sure what changed my mind. Maybe knowing I wasn’t leaving made it worth the effort of going out on a date. It had been a while since I’d been on one. Colin had caught my attention the first time he walked in, but my mind was already preoccupied.
Max patted my shoulder. “Good for you, but if he treats you anything less than as a lady, you let me know.”
I smiled. “All right. I will.”
“Who says Maddy’s a lady?” Macon was ready for the attack, and he ducked before my hand could make contact with his face.
Max shook his head and walked off. He was used to our banter.
“Where’s he taking you?” Macon’s voice rose slightly, the only hint he might be moving from jokester to protective friend. He could pretend all he wanted, but he cared about me.
I made him a second Long Island and set it in front of him. “Picnic on the beach.”
Macon sipped his drink. “So he wants you in a secluded spot so he can seduce you. Are you sure you want to go?”
Brody shook his head. “No. If that was his goal, he’d have offered to make dinner at home. Picnic on the beach means he’s trying to impress her. He wants to show his romantic side.”
I opened a bottle of water. “I like Brody’s version better.”
Macon snorted. “Of course you do. You’re a girl.”
“Weren’t you the one accusing me of imaginary fucking earlier?” I took a long sip of water. Even at eight o’clock at night it was still hot out.
“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that you want romance. You want a guy to sweep you off your feet, and you’ll believe anything to get it.” He made a broad sweeping motion with his hands.
“No, I just want Lyle to say more than three words to me.”
Brody leaned forward on his elbows. “That’s your problem. Your expectations are entirely too high.”
“Yeah, ridiculously high.” I set down a chilled glass and grabbed the Johnnie Walker Red Label. I measured out the liquor precisely, even though I could eye it better than most. I liked to pretend I was putting my chemistry major to good use when I made drinks. It made the four years I spent in college seem worth it. If you really think about it, making drinks is all about using the right ingredients with the right properties together.
I finished and took a deep breath before turning back toward my roommates. “Wish me luck.”
Brody gestured for me to lean in. “May the Force be with you.”
“Your Star Wars nerdiness might be one of my favorite things about you.”
“It takes one to know one.”
“Have I ever denied it?”
Macon leaned over. “No, but you hide it really well. You lure guys in with those short dresses and skirts, but little do they know they’re dating a total geek.”
“Geeks can be attractive. There’s nothing exclusive about one or the other. Besides, I think I officially lost my geek status now.” I picked up the drink and walked over to where Lyle was plugging in and tuning his guitar. He played one of those acoustics with a pickup.
“You’re still a geek!” Macon called after me. “No amount of paper can change that.”
I smiled. I let Macon think he got to me more than he actually did.
I stopped a few feet away from Lyle, but he still hadn’t acknowledged my approach. I wasn’t sure if it was the noise from the customers, or because he didn’t care to talk to me until he had to. “Hey.”
“Oh, hey.” He glanced up and ran a hand through his brown hair that was kind of long and screamed “surfer boy.” Although the surfer and musician look overlapped sometimes.
“Here’s your drink.” I’d given up asking him if he had a preference weeks before. He told me to surprise him, so I did. The only problem is he almost always took just one sip. I was usually good at picking the right drink for people, but evidently the skill wasn’t working on Lyle.
“Thanks.” He nodded and smiled slightly. He didn’t have a toothy smile; it was more of a closed-lip thing, but it still did something to me.
“You’re welcome.” I waited a minute to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything else before heading back to the bar.
Brody spun around on his stool as soon as I got back behind the bar. “Did you at least get four words?”
“Nope. ‘Oh. Hey.’ And ‘thanks.’”
Macon swirled the ice in his glass. “That jerk. He could have at least said thank you instead.”
“Maybe next time.”
“Or you could take my advice.”
I sighed. “Let’s enjoy the music.”
Brody rested his elbow on the bar. “You’re the only one who thinks he’s that good.”
“Come on. His lyrics are incredible.”
Brody glanced at his watch. “He’s got a good voice, but I don’t get why you are so into his songs.”
I shrugged. “You guys don’t get it.”
Macon rolled his eyes in that annoying way of his. “Of course we don’t. We are far too lowly to understand the message behind his music.”
Any chance to reply disappeared when Lyle took the microphone. “Hey, everyone. I’m Lyle Waverly and here are a few of my messed-up tunes.”
After a long intro, his low gravelly voice broke in. I closed my eyes focusing on the lyrics.
Loving the loneliness…loving the empty space. We can all take off our masks now, life’s about the escape.
“Excuse me? Miss?” I opened my eyes and groaned.
Macon and Brody laughed as I tried to rein in my annoyance at getting interrupted.
“Can I get a Heineken and a Sex on the Beach?”
“Seriously?” I said with more of an attitude than I meant to. That’s how you know you work in a tourist trap. I mean, non-beachside bars couldn’t possibly sell so many of these things.
“Is that a problem? Do you not have Heineken?”
“We have Heineken.” I turned around, grabbed the beer, and made yet another Sex
on the Beach. I tried to concentrate on the music while I worked, but the guy ordering the drinks was busy talking to my roommates.
“Here you go.” I set down the drinks after adding the orange and maraschino cherry. As pointless as it sometimes seems, garnish has its place. Presentation has more value than you’d think. “Do you want me to open a tab?”
“Oh, no thanks.” He put down a twenty. “Keep the change.”
I leaned against the back counter again right as Lyle finished the song. Darn it. It had been a new one, and I hoped he’d play it again. I was in need of a new song to dissect.
Brody used the break for applause to lay it on me. “Lucky Max didn’t see the way you treated that guy.”
“Come on. He deserved it.”
“Oh? Is there a sign that says don’t bug the moody bartender while she’s listening to her dream boyfriend sing?”
I crossed my arms, determined to enjoy the rest of the set.
Lyle started singing again, and thankfully this time no one interrupted.
“Oh my god, Maddy, you missed it.” Macon downed his water. I’d cut him off after two drinks since he was driving home.
“What?”
Macon leaned forward, his face stopping only a few inches from mine. “He took three sips.”
“Really?” He rarely took two sips—and three? It was a new record. I looked at Brody. He usually gave everything away.
He nodded.
“Hmm, I guess he does like whiskey.”
Yeah, I was pathetic.
Shaken Not Stirred is available now!
For more information about Alyssa Rose Ivy’s books, please visit her online at:
www.AlyssaRoseIvy.com
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As with all my previous novels, I have to give thanks first and foremost to my family. My husband, for coming up with the sex shop name of Pleasure Paradise. When I sent him a text while he was at work asking for a fictional name of a sex shop, he didn’t even hesitate to toss out ideas. To my kids, who are the light of my life and so incredibly proud of me and my writing accomplishments that they shout from the rooftops that their mom is an author. To my mother and sister, who read everything I write.
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