Making It Right

by Kathy Altman

  “Rule number one.” Liz glared. “Don’t make fun of a customer’s drink choice.”

  “I’m so sorry. I promise I wasn’t laughing at your order. Earlier I told Snoozy we were low on pineapple juice, and he looked at me like I’d grown a second head. I should have enough for two of these, though.” Kerry scrounged for the professionalism that had once made her a passable barkeep. “Did you know the Blue Hawaiian is also called the swimming pool cocktail?”

  Liz’s expression cleared. “Snoozy always was surprised when we ran out of fruit juice and peach schnapps. You might want to go ahead and pick some up, and reimburse yourself from petty cash. That is...” She cocked her head. “Is he even trusting you with the petty cash?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  PARKER SUCKED IN a breath.

  “What the hell?” Allison whispered harshly.

  Even Liz looked startled by what she’d said.

  “He is trusting me with the petty cash,” Kerry said evenly. No need to point out Snoozy was trusting her with the whole damned bar. “I don’t intend to let him down. Excuse me while I find the curaçao.”

  She turned away and scanned the mirrored shelves. She knew exactly where Snoozy kept the blue curaçao, but she needed a moment to remember how to breathe. Liz’s words may have been unkind, but they weren’t unfair.

  She walked away from the furious whispers behind her, rolling her shoulders in a futile attempt to shake off her distress. Gratitude was what she should be feeling. For freedom. For second chances. For this job.

  She caught sight of Nerdy-Looking Dude’s reflection in the mirror as he stood and stretched. The hem of his short-sleeved shirt rose, and Kerry stilled. Holy Hannah. Absently she added manly stomach muscles to her mental gratitude journal. She barely stopped herself from turning to get an eyeful of the real thing.

  That was a surprise. Sitting behind his laptop, with his black-rimmed glasses and striped button-down shirt, he hadn’t looked quite so...toned.

  He chugged the remains of his beer. Good. She was glad he was leaving, because she’d wasted way too much time and brain power wondering what the heck he was up to over there in the corner.

  The woman with the Brass Monkey had been wondering, too. She sat two tables away, hunched over her drink, chin in hand as she watched Nerdy-Looking Dude’s every move. He hadn’t glanced her way once. Probably because she had a good ten years on him. He looked to be around thirty. Kerry’s age.

  The longing on the woman’s face made Kerry want to give her a hug.

  She grabbed the bottle of curaçao and turned back to her customers. While Parker, Allison and Liz stood in a huddle, continuing their confab while watching Kerry’s every move, Kerry grabbed a highball glass and two hurricanes and set them on the bar mat. As she reached for the shaker, she tipped over one of the hurricane glasses. Luckily she caught it before it rolled off the mat, but her rhythm was off. She’d never manage to mix these drinks without breaking something.

  She dumped crushed ice into the shaker and added blue curaçao, coconut cream, pineapple juice and white rum. Liquor dripped all over her hand and down the side of the bottle. The pourer was loose on the rum. With a slow inhale and exhale, she reseated it.

  The whispering intensified. She wiped her hands on her jeans, reached for the shaker lid and promptly dropped it. It thumped onto the floor and she wanted to drop down beside it.

  A distraction. She needed one. Desperately.

  Snoozy, where are you?

  A cheer erupted at the pool table, but it wasn’t enough to pull the trio’s focus from Kerry and the mess she was making of their drinks. For God’s sake, where was a fire when you needed one?

  Thunk. An empty beer mug appeared before her. She looked up and met the brown-eyed gaze of Nerdy-Looking Dude.

  “Maybe you ladies could wait for your drinks over there.” He nodded at the booth farthest from the bar, pulled a handful of coins from his pocket and let them clatter onto the counter. “I have some negotiating to do. I’d rather you not add to my humiliation by watching.”

  Kerry swallowed a sigh of relief as Allison led Parker and Liz over to the booth. She nodded her thanks, and wiped her hands on a towel. “Another beer?”

  “Boston lager,” he said, and settled on a stool as she fetched a mug. “Better make it half.” He gestured at the change on the bar and flashed a sweet pair of dimples. “Not enough coin, and all.”

  “And make myself look too cheap to spot you?” She set a full mug in front of him and went back to mixing cocktails. “Besides, I owe you. You probably saved me having to replace a good twenty dollars in glassware.”

  He shrugged. “All I know is I had a drink emergency.”

  “Your last drink sat in front of you for an hour before you finished it.”

  “Hence the emergency. I need something to wash away the taste of warm brew.”

  If only he’d stayed in the corner. The abs and the gallantry had been intriguing enough. Now she was getting an up-close-and-personal view of attractively rumpled blond hair and a strong, stubble-covered chin. The regret she’d brought into the bar was extending beyond money matters.

  Damn it.

  She finished up her orders as quickly as she could, the sound of the shaker precluding further conversation. As nice as the guy had been, the last thing she needed was to encourage anyone to take an interest in her. When she’d tended bar in college, she’d been instructed to develop a following. A bartender with fans meant higher sales numbers and bigger tips. Win-win.

  Only she didn’t want fans. Not now. Not here. Didn’t need them, either. What she needed was to keep her head down and do a good job and hopefully secure a solid reference for the next gig, whatever that might be.

  Eugenia had shown her a lot of undeserved faith. No way Kerry would let her down.

  She went overboard on the garnishes for all three cocktails. With a cheerful smile, she delivered the drinks, made recommendations for round two that involved neither mint nor pineapple juice, checked on her other customers and returned to the bar well to clean up.

  Nerdy-Looking Dude sat silently sipping his beer while she washed and dried her implements and wiped down the bar. Now she needed a distraction from her distraction.

  Said distraction was stacking up the coins he’d tossed on the bar. “You need a tip jar.”

  “I think that’s a little premature.”

  He gave her a half smile that could charm the stripes off a tiger. “I’m Gil. Gil Cooper.” He extended his hand across the bar.

  “Kerry.” His hand was hard and warm around hers. She refused to let it give her ideas.

  “I take it, Bartender Kerry, that this is your first night on the job?”

  “Hopefully not my last.”

  “So that—” he made an almost imperceptible motion with his head toward the newly occupied booth “—was just first-night jitters? Or did they say something to you?”

  “Jitters,” she said easily. He knew the three friends. She could tell. Even if their suspicions weren’t justified, she had no intention of stirring up trouble.

  He reached for the bowl of pretzels she’d set out and knocked over the stacks of coins. His hand jerked in a belated attempt to keep the towers intact, and pretzels scattered across the bar. Seemed they were two of a kind. He muttered under his breath and cleaned up after himself.

  She forced her gaze away from his hands. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “No,” he said, brightening. “I’m not married.”

  She fought a smile by pursing her lips. “I was going to ask if you’re a regular.”

  “I’m thinking we don’t know each other well enough to discuss my bathroom habits.”

  “Not irregular. A regular.” His sense of silliness sparked a wistfulness inside that she had no busin
ess feeling. “Do you come here often? To—” she used both hands to gesture from him to the laptop he’d abandoned at the corner table “—do whatever it is you do?”

  “I am a regular.” He dusted the salt from his hands. “Starting tonight. Is that your question?”

  No way she was responding to that, though in an absurd way, his declaration made her feel less lonely.

  “My question is, does she bother you?” She jerked her chin toward the pen. “Mitzi? Everyone seems to take her in stride.”

  “She bothers you.”

  “I don’t count.” When he raised an eyebrow, she added, “I mean, I won’t be here long. I’m only filling in while Snoozy’s on his honeymoon.”

  “He’ll be gone a couple of weeks, right?”

  “Three.”

  “Long time to be looking over your shoulder. You’re going to have to find a way to lighten up about the apple of Snoozy’s eye.”

  Kerry set a bowl of popcorn on the bar, eyed Gil’s elbow and moved the bowl farther away. “I’m open to suggestions,” she said. She caught the mischief on his face and added, “About getting used to Mitzi.”

  “How about a joke?” He narrowed his eyes, then snapped his fingers. “What was Mitzi’s favorite subject in school?”

  Kerry raised the other eyebrow.

  “Hisstory.”

  She groaned and started to move away.

  He held up a finger. “One more. ’Cause everyone deserves a second chance. What’s Mitzi’s favorite TV show?”

  “I don’t know.” Glass clinked as Kerry rearranged her speed well, the thigh-high rack for a bartender’s most commonly used bottles. “When Animals Attack?”

  Gil chuckled, then made a sound like a buzzer. “Wrong. Monty Python.”

  She laughed, and looked up, and intercepted an appreciative glance. Did a decent job of ignoring it. “Your jokes are almost as bad as my dad’s.”

  The moment she said it, she regretted it.

  “His must be terrible, then.” Gil tossed a piece of pretzel into his mouth. “Give me an example.”

  Kerry caught the eye of Brass Monkey Woman and realized she was doing a rotten job of looking after her customers.

  “Yeah, well, it’s all fun and games until a reptile gets out of her pen,” she said. “Excuse me. I need to check on someone.”

  “You don’t need to worry,” Gil said to her back. “She got away from Snoozy once. No way he’ll let it happen again.”

  Kerry whirled around. “She got out? When was this?” When Gil lowered his head and pushed his glasses higher up his nose, hiding a smile, she slapped the bar. “Now that was mean.”

  Brass Monkey Woman came up beside Gil, carrying her empty glass. Kerry swallowed a sigh. Be dependable. That’s all Snoozy had asked and already she was sucking at it.

  She apologized to the woman and asked if she’d like another of the same. When the woman nodded, Kerry retrieved a fresh glass and gestured at Gil. “Don’t you think that was mean?”

  The woman nodded again, this time with a conspiratorial smile curving her lips. She never looked away from Gil’s face.

  “It’s the truth,” he said. “This was quite a few years back, before Snoozy set Mitzi up here in the bar. He was going through a divorce and his wife deliberately let Mitzi out of the house. Half a dozen years later, Allison found her coiled up in a wall at the motel. Mitzi, not Snoozy’s ex.”

  Kerry paused in the act of unscrewing the lid on the orange juice. “Wait, Allison found Mitzi? At the motel? I was just there.” Thank God for Eugenia and her dress shop apartment.

  Gil helped himself to a handful of popcorn. “I’m sure if she’d had any roommates, they’d have found them by now.”

  Brass Monkey Woman made a small noise of distress and shifted on the stool.

  Kerry sent her an empathetic glance and turned a glower on Gil. “You’re a real hoot.”

  “Relax. They had an exterminator out there and everything. Besides, it was a good thing. Mitzi brought Joe and Allison together.”

  Kerry stirred the cocktail, added two cherries and slid it across the bar. “I’m not big on reptiles.”

  “I can see that.”

  Brass Monkey Woman handed Kerry a credit card and reached for the bowl of popcorn. Gil offered her the pretzels, as well, and she beamed.

  “So, you’re staying at Joe’s,” Gil said casually. He didn’t notice Brass Monkey Woman’s sharp glance.

  “I was.”

  “You don’t have friends or family in Castle Creek?”

  “There wasn’t room for me.”

  “What happens when Snoozy gets back from his honeymoon? You plan to hang around?”

  Brass Monkey Woman sniffed, picked up her drink and made her way back to her table.

  Kerry winced. Gil seemed oblivious, his attention trained directly on Kerry. She had to admit, it made for a nice change.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” she said. “Snoozy won’t need me here, so I’d have to find another job.” Which would not be easy. She started to swipe her palms down the front of her shirt, remembered Allison’s sweater and swiped them on her hips instead. “I’d also forgotten how sticky I get by the end of the day.” She lifted first her left, then her right shoe, wincing at the sound her soles made as they separated from the tacky rubber mat. “Me and the floor.”

  She wouldn’t miss much about bartending, that was for sure. So far she was managing, but ever since her arrest, she’d longed to do something that would allow her to spend more time in the sun.

  Allison appeared beside Gil, waving Kerry off when she apologized for not making it back to their table. “Two margaritas and a Shirley Temple, please.” She poked Gil in the shoulder. “We’re over there talking about you. Still running that online forum?”

  Gil hesitated, and Kerry could practically hear him turning red. He mumbled something about collaborative math projects, whatever those were.

  Allison watched Kerry mixing drinks. “Parker says Nat’s having a hard time with algebra. Maybe you could give her a call, see about signing the kid up for some tutoring?”

  “Sure,” Gil said.

  Aha.

  He was a nerd.

  Albeit a hot one.

  She followed Allison to her table to deliver the girls’ drinks and turned to find Gil had returned to his laptop. Ignoring a twinge of disappointment, she checked in with the pool table crowd and the couple too into each other to eat, then moved back behind the bar and got busy washing glasses. A hoot of masculine laughter sounded outside the door right before two men walked in. Kerry registered a cop’s uniform and dropped one of the hurricane glasses.

  Glass shattered, and the bar went silent.

  * * *

  THE CHILLY NIGHT air plucked at Eugenia’s skin, raising gooseflesh. Still, her temper burned hotter than the habaneros in Snoozy’s chili, which she’d done her darnedest to warn Kerry away from. As she glared at Harris’s front door, shrouded in shadow, a butter-colored moon peered through gauzy strips of clouds, casting enough light to reveal the small potted tree to her left. The two leaves that elevated it from stick status were brown. A sudden sadness gathered in her throat, and it hurt to swallow.

  This time when she pressed the doorbell she didn’t let go.

  “I know you’re in there, old man,” she called. “You might as well open up because I’m not going away.”

  The door swung wide. “Sure you will,” he said, his voice all gravel. “You did before.”

  Eugenia put her hands behind her back and gripped her own wrist. Otherwise she might find herself trying to smack the stubborn right out of the man. He must have recognized her urge to do violence because he eased back a step. She took the opportunity to trespass.

  “That thing is dying.”
She jabbed a finger toward the sickly tree. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Talk about the pot callin’ the kettle black.” He hesitated, then closed the door, shutting them both inside. He heaved a gusty sigh and with a hand to her back, guided her away from the foyer and into the living room. “I know why you’re here.”

  She pulled away and walked to the far end of the sofa, long faded from sitting beneath a front window with curtains Harris never bothered to draw.

  “Do you,” she said.

  “I do, and I’m too damned tired to deal with it. I appreciate the thought, but you best go on home now, Genie.”

  Eugenia ignored the traitorous tingle at the nickname he hadn’t called her in forever and focused instead on his jackass-ery. “Don’t you shoo me away, old man. What on earth is going on in that thick, naked noodle of yours?”

  “You were the one doin’ the shooin’.” He pounded his fist once on the back of his recliner, sending it rocking. “Damn it, I’m not an old man and I like my naked noodle.” His words lingered in the dusty plaid of his living room. When he realized what he’d said, he flushed.

  “Happy to hear it,” she said. She’d grown rather fond of it herself, until the weight of Harris’s stubbornness had pressed his personality flat.

  He grumbled under his breath. “You’re not here to tell me my daughter’s lookin’ to borrow money again?”

  “She told you why she’s here.”

  “She’s told me a lot of things over the years. I’ve learned to close one ear and stick my finger in the other. I know damned well she’s back for another handout.” He rubbed a palm over his head. “I, uh, apologize for callin’ you a traitor.”

  She lifted her chin, and the stiff wool collar of her pea-green jacket scuffed the nape of her neck. Now she remembered why she rarely wore the thing. “Harris Briggs, you’re a jackass.”

  He set his jaw. “That’s what you came to tell me?”

  “It is.”

  “I’m a jackass. ’Cause I’m smart enough not to let my ex-con daughter take advantage of me?”