Unknown

by Kelly, Hazel

  "Don't want to lose it."

  "So you don't have it on you now?" I joked.

  "'I’m afraid not," he said, as if we were talking about something as tangible as a bus pass.

  "Can I get you another drink?" I asked, raising my hand to get Brian's attention to hide my disappointment that Finn had no intention of kissing me tonight.

  "Absolutely not," he said. "I'm annoyed you paid for that one."

  Brian braced himself against the other side of the bar and raised his brows.

  "We’ll take another round," Finn said. "And don't let me catch you charging this woman for another drink, or we're going to have words."

  Brian’s face twisted defensively. "She's a customer."

  "Her money's no good here," Finn said. "Put her drinks on my tab from now on.”

  Brian cocked his head. “But you never pay your tab."

  "That's a separate conversation," Finn said, scowling until his friend walked away.

  "I can pay for my own drinks," I said as soon as I could get a word in edgewise.

  He turned to me. "I know you can."

  "I don't want you to think I'm a mooch."

  "Are you always this difficult when people try to do nice things for you?"

  "I'm not being difficult,” I said. “I just don't want to take advantage."

  "You could just say thanks, you know. It's not always about you."

  “Please, Finn.” I pulled my wallet from my purse. “I don't want to contribute to your tab. Especially if it's a tab you never pay."

  "That's not the whole story,” he said. “I'm not some freeloader who’s taking advantage of his childhood friend's generosity."

  "That's what it looks like."

  Brian sat a cold glass of white down in front of me and another bottle of beer before Finn.

  I slid a crisp twenty across the bar. "I want to pay for these, Brian."

  He slid it back. "You've already paid."

  My brows furrowed.

  "By babysitting The Talent," he added, shooting Finn a smart look before walking away.

  "Do you like that?" I asked. "When he calls you The Talent?"

  Finn leaned towards me. "Don't tell him I said this, but it's literally my favorite thing."

  I laughed.

  He lifted his drink and chinked it against mine. "To my favorite mooch."

  "That's not fair."

  "Relax, Maeve. This is my bar."

  I studied his expression, but I couldn’t determine if he was speaking metaphorically. "What do you mean it's your bar?"

  "I mean I buy every drink in the place before it crosses this countertop."

  "I'm confused. You own this place?"

  "Not technically."

  Fucking great. Just what I needed. Another guy who liked the sound of his voice more than he liked telling the truth.

  "Technically, Brian owns it," he said. "But only because I agreed to give him an extra percent."

  "Seriously?"

  He narrowed his eyes at me. "What do you mean seriously? Are you asking if I made that up? Like I pay the rent here is my go-to pick-up line?"

  "Is it?"

  "You tell me," he said. "Do you like me better now that you know I own half a bar?"

  Kind of? Not that there was anything wrong with him being a full-time musician, but my attraction to him was slightly more defensible if he didn’t live in his parents’ basement.

  "Or did you like the idea that you were slumming it with a starving artist?"

  "I never thought you were a starving artist."

  "Oh good." He lifted his beer and took a swig. "That's the nicest thing you've said to me all night."

  “Not true. And for the record, I do feel less guilty about my free drink, so thanks for telling me."

  "You're welcome," he said. "Though I'd appreciate if you kept that between us. As far as the regulars here are concerned, I'm just The Talent."

  "And you like it that way?"

  He nodded. "Very much. Least of all because people don’t bother me every time there’s a clogged toilet."

  "So Brian works hard for his extra percent?"

  Finn laughed. "He sure does."

  "So you just play here whenever you want and drink for nothing?"

  "Why wouldn't I?” he asked. “What's the point of having a bar if you can't listen to the music you like while enjoying the beverage of your choice?"

  "Sounds like you’re living the dream."

  His bottom lip stuck out. "I don't know if it’s the dream, but it's an honest living doing what I love."

  "Seems as good a definition of success as any. No wonder you didn't make any resolutions."

  "I made one."

  "Oh, right.” My heart fluttered at the memory of his unexpected call. “But now that you've got my number, I guess you have everything you want."

  "Almost everything," he said, eyeing me as he took another sip of his beer.

  "What's missing?" I asked, fighting the urge to lean towards him.

  "Honestly? Earlier today I was worried I didn't know my life's purpose."

  I laughed. "That's a heavy thought for a Friday."

  "Tell me about it,” he said. “But thanks to you, I think I've finally figured it out."

  "Oh? Do tell." I leaned an elbow on the bar and propped my head up on one hand.

  He opened his mouth and closed it again before waving his unspoken words away. "No. You'll think I'm crazy."

  "Try me."

  He sighed and let his eyes find mine. "I think I was put on this earth to make sure you don't go your whole life without seeing Spinal Tap."

  "You're right," I said, fighting a wide smile. "I think you're crazy."

  E I G H T E E N

  - Finn -

  “If I didn’t know better,” Brian said, clearing Maeve’s empty glass and wiping down the bar. “I’d think you really like this woman.”

  “Except you do know better.”

  “Do I? I haven’t seen you flirt like that in years.”

  “I can’t help how charming I am,” I said, lifting my beer. “It wasn’t personal.”

  “You going to see her again?”

  I hated the smug look on his face, hated how well he knew me. I didn’t want anyone to know me that well. It gave people too much power. Made it too easy for them to push my buttons.

  “You are, aren’t you?” A slow smile reached his eyes. “Good man. She seems nice.”

  “She is nice,” I said, remembering how my heart raced in my chest as she watched me play. “But it’s only a bit of fun. She’d never really go for a guy like me.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  I glared at him. “Don’t be stupid. She’s pure class, head to toe. And picky as they come. We’ve talked about it.”

  “She seemed to enjoy your company.”

  “I’m a high school dropout, Brian. As soon as she realizes that, it’s game over.”

  “You got your GED.”

  I scoffed. “I’ll be sure to mention that when she tells me about her Ph.D.”

  His brows popped up. “She’s a doctor?”

  “No. I don’t know. Probably not. That’s not the point.”

  He scanned the bar to make sure no one was trying to get his attention. “What’s the point?”

  “The point is I’m not interested in dating, and even if I were, no amount of charm could ever make up for the fact that I don’t have a degree.”

  He squinted at me. “I’m sure I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t rather have a platinum album than a college degree.”

  “That’s two platinum albums, asshole.”

  “See. It’s not like you’re a deadbeat.”

  “Easy for you to say.” I rolled my shoulders back. “You went to college.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like I use my degree. If anything, it was a total waste of time and money.”

  I turned
an ear towards him. “You wouldn’t have met Maria if you hadn’t gone.”

  “True.” He hung his head and considered my words. “So much for thinking she was a cheap date. Cost me sixty grand just to meet her.”

  “She’s worth it.”

  He nodded. “Every penny.”

  I smiled.

  “So go back to school if it means that much to you.”

  “It doesn’t,” I lied. “I’m only thinking about it because I met someone who’s out of my league.”

  “No one’s out of your league, Finn. If you don’t want to date, say that. But don’t bore me with your bogus excuses for why you’re not going to try when you clearly like her.”

  I shrugged.

  “When are you going to see her again?” he asked, watching my face carefully.

  “Tomorrow.”

  His brows jumped. “Damn, bro. You’re more eager than I thought.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. And don’t call me bro.”

  He groaned. “Which leads me to my next question.”

  Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck.

  “Have you called Max back to see what he wants after all these years?”

  “Course not.”

  “Aren’t you curious?” he asked. “Safe to say he wasn’t calling to wish you a happy new year.”

  “I suspect he wants to meet up when he’s here on tour, whereas I definitely don’t.”

  “I heard,” he said, one side of his smile digging into his chubby cheek. “Shame you won’t be here.”

  My expression puzzled.

  “You know, with Everest on the horizon.”

  I cringed. “You saw that shit?”

  “Maria did. I assume I was right in telling her it wasn’t true?”

  “No truer than my alleged interest in marathon running.”

  He laughed. “I take it back. You are a deadbeat. No marathons. No Everest. Are you sure you have the stamina for this friendship?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Why does he do that?”

  “Who knows? Maybe he’s trying to fuck with me. Maybe he’s ashamed of me.”

  “Maybe both?”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “I’m not suggesting he’s right to be ashamed of you,” Brian explained. “But he might be embarrassed by how things soured between you guys.”

  “I’m the one who should be pissed,” I said. “I’m the dumbass who cleaned up his messes for years until I woke up one day and realized I was both his meal ticket and his fucking babysitter.”

  “Oh, come on,” he said. “Was it that bad? You guys had fun on the road, didn’t you? And you played some great shows.”

  “I know,” I said deadpan. “I was there.”

  “I know you didn’t care much for the crowds or the attention.”

  “Or the effect those things had on Max.”

  “People change,” he said, always the optimist. “Maybe he has.”

  “Or maybe he’s still a self-centered prick, and he’s just hungry for attention.”

  “That’s the spirit. Think positive.”

  I knew Brian was coming from a good place, but he didn’t know the half of it.

  “So where are you taking Miss Maeve on your third date?”

  “It’s hardly a third date.”

  He cocked his head and pretended to count on his fingers.

  “Tonight wasn’t a date,” I insisted, though I couldn’t remember the last time a woman made me laugh so much. “Nor was New Year’s Eve.”

  He lifted his palms. “My bad. Where I come from, when two people who want to sleep together meet up over alcohol, it's a date."

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Bit of advice—”

  “Didn’t ask.”

  “Take her somewhere nice,” he said. “Don’t test whether she can hang by taking her for chili dogs or some stupid shit like that.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Good,” he said. “’Cause it’s too soon to sabotage this. Plus, she deserves better after what the last guy put her through.”

  My brows piqued with interest. “What did she say?”

  “Wish I could tell you, but bartender code forbids it.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Don’t be sore. You know the rules.”

  “No really.” I lifted my chin towards the far side of the bar. “Customer.”

  Brian smacked a hand against the counter in front of me and shoved off towards the gentleman with his cocked elbow on the bar.

  “Dick,” I mumbled under my breath. Did he really know something about her I didn’t? Or was he just toying with me for sport? Whatever. I’d take her somewhere nice because I wanted to, not because he told me to.

  And certainly not because it was a third date.

  Though the suggestion did thrill me a little since I was undeniably attracted to her. Whether the feeling was mutual, though, I couldn’t be sure. She was so different from women I’d liked in the past. So controlled. She hadn’t given up the game by getting touchy feely or tossing her hair around like a bird of paradise.

  She was classy, which was cool. And she was stunning. And funny. And probably wouldn’t be nearly as impressed by Spinal Tap as I was.

  And suddenly, I was nervous.

  N I N E T E E N

  - Maeve -

  Maddy stirred her Bloody Mary with the celery stalk sprouting from it. “Quinn and I are going to James’s tonight to play board games if you and Kurt want to come.”

  “I know,” I said. “He texted me last night.”

  She perked up as if someone had tugged a string attached to her head. “Are you going to come?”

  “No.”

  Her expression dimmed. “Why not?”

  I leaned back in my flimsy café chair. “Because it’s not a sincere invitation. Don’t you remember last time? When you accused me of trying to ‘Monica’ board games night?”

  Guilt washed over her face. “I apologized for that, and you were being a stickler about the directions.”

  “I wasn’t being a stickler,” I said. “I was just the only one who bothered reading them.”

  She shrugged. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

  “It’s still fun if you don’t give people pity points for effort.”

  “The boys are delicate. They need their egos stroked from time to time.”

  My face puckered like I’d licked a lemon. “No, they don’t. You think they stroke each other’s egos when they’re playing poker?”

  “No, but Brie and I want board games night to be a safe space. We don’t want it turning into the smack-talk-a-thon that poker night is.”

  “No offense, but I’d rather spend the evening talking smack than stroking your boyfriend’s ego.”

  “You’re in luck, then,” she said. “We’re playing Balderdash tonight, and everyone knows the rules.”

  “Balderdash,” I said cynically.

  “You’re not even going to consider it?”

  “Nope.”

  She feigned a pout, sticking her bottom lip out as far as it would go.

  “It’s nothing personal,” I said. “I just already have plans. Plus, Kurt and I broke up.”

  “What? When?”

  “Good question, but I’m not sure I know the answer.”

  Her eyes probed mine. “Go on.”

  “Promise to keep this between you and me?”

  “Sure.”

  I sighed, feeling a little guilty about unloading on my sister. But I craved the opinion of a woman who a) wasn’t a colleague b) wasn’t my mother and c) wasn’t my married best friend who’d never been dumped in her life because she married her childhood sweetheart. “I thought we broke up on New Year’s Eve.”

  Her face collapsed like a sad accordion. “Oh, Maeve.”

  “Stop making that woeful face or the story ends there.”

  �
��Before or after the party?” she asked, her features stuck in the same piteous shape.

  “At the party,” I said. “Over the phone.”

  “Bastard!” Her soft features hardened as her sympathy turned to anger. “Who fucking does that? I thought he was a grown-up?”

  “There are no grown-ups, apparently.”

  “Quinn told me that once,” she said, nodding at the memory. “Is that why you left?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t want to spoil everyone’s night.”

  “You should’ve stayed. And told us.”

  “I know, but that would’ve led to a much messier night than I wanted to have.”

  “Understandable,” she said. “His loss, by the way, in case that’s not utterly obvious to you.”

  “Thanks.” I took a sip of my drink as the waitress arrived to clear our plates. When she left, Maddy slid her cocktail where her poached eggs used to be, and I folded my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “The thing that’s troubling me most, though, is that everyone at work thinks Kurt broke up with me at the company Christmas party.”

  “I thought you spoke on Christmas Day?”

  “We did. But I guess he was all over some catering girl at the party after I left.”

  “Eww,” she said, leaning back. “That’s awful.”

  “So, long story short, I don’t know how big of an idiot I am.”

  “First of all, he’s the idiot. Not you. Second of all, as long as it’s public knowledge that he’s a weaseling sack of shit, I think you should take comfort in that and move on.”

  “I’m trying,” I said, displeased with the lack of conviction in my voice.

  “Good.”

  “I just wish I understood why I gave him a chance in the first place.”

  “His butt looked nice in khakis?” she guessed.

  I cocked my head.

  “Not helpful?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “So why do you think you gave him a chance?”

  I looked down at the table, which was covered in lacquered newsprint. “I think I got scared about the baby thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think, on some level, I was nervous about going through the whole sperm donor thing alone, so I lowered my standards to give one last guy a shot.”

  “Of course you were nervous,” she said. “But you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it. Giving Kurt a chance didn’t do any harm.”