They looked each other over with smug expressions. “We think so,” Kyle joked. “Man. This place is great. Congratulations.”
I dipped my head. “Thank ya kindly. And Zoe did a helluva job on the logo.”
Tucker jerked his thumb toward the front. “Is that it on the window?”
“The very same.” She’d designed a complicated Celtic knot with Pint Well-Taken below it in Celtic letters, only the “I” was a pint glass.
“Well, I don’t want to brag or anything, but I have to agree with you. That’s sharp.”
Kyle pretended to shine a star on his chest. “I taught her everything I know.”
Tucker slugged him. “Sure you did. Clearly she gets her talent from me.”
I cut in before Kyle could retort. “Do the ladies know you’re here? They didn’t mention you coming.”
They exchanged a grin. “Nope,” Kyle offered. “We’re surprising them.”
“But isn’t it ladies’ night out?”
“Yep.”
“Yeah,” they said at the same time.
“Well, then. I hope you two know what you’re doing. Let me come around and show you to the VIP area.”
“Ooh. Nice.”
When I got to them, they introduced me to a fella named Peter, who was the girls’ boss, Tara’s, husband. Seemed like a nice enough fella. They followed me to the vault room we’d named The Pint of Honor. Dani, Sam, and Tara were having a roaring good time there.
“Ladies, these three hooligans appeared on me doorstep.”
“Oh, you all are here?” Tucker said in an exaggerated fashion. “What a coincidence.”
Dani sat forward. “I told you where we were going.”
He looked at Kyle, the picture of innocence. “Did you?”
Kyle sat on the arm of the chair Sam had sunk into. “I didn’t hear them.”
“You are so full of shit.” She hauled him in by his vest. “But I do like this outfit.” They kissed, and after a few minutes, I snuck out.
I stopped by Quinn’s stool as I passed, leaning in. “You ready, old man?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I’ll give you the signal.”
Quinn insisted on having a prominent role to play in me plans for the evenin.’ It almost caused bad blood between he and Mick when Mick found out, but they arm wrestled for the privilege fair and square and Quinn—who was near ten years Mick’s senior—came out on top, sealing his right to the part he was about to play.
I swung behind the bar and got things in place. Then I noticed my sandwich on the back bar and dug in.
What a woman.
I was so busy chowin,’ I almost missed giving Quinn the high sign when she came near.
“Josie, m’dear?”
She whirled around. “What can I do for you, Quinn?”
“I’d fancy another pint, if you have the time.”
Her voice was tender in response. “For you, my friend, I will always have the time.”
I watched on from the corner, holding my breath. She poured the first part of the Guinness exactly as I’d shown her then left it to settle. But she wasn’t paying attention to it as she was talking to Quinn. I was on tenterhooks and my palms began to sweat.
“So what do you think of the place?”
His rheumy eyes scanned the back bar. “I think…” he leaned in “I’ve found me new favorite stool.”
She nodded her head sharply as she wiped the bar in front of him. “Good. We’ll have your name carved into the seat back.” He thought she was kidding, but I knew her well enough to know it would be done within the month, if not sooner. I snuck through an opening to the opposite side of the bar so I could watch her face. She went to top off his pint and froze.
Thank, Gawd.
I waved my hand and the band stopped playing. Our friends snuck in from the Pint of Honor. She stood and stared at it for such a long time, I thought something was wrong. Then she looked at Quinn with her eyebrows furrowed.
“I think someone has a question to ask you.” He swiveled on his stool in my direction.
She turned to me, her lips parted, eyes questioning. My heart swelled, and all my worries left me. Without saying anything, I reached over the bar for her hand and led her to the opening, then out onto the floor with me. Out of the corner of my eye I detected Quinn lunging over the bar to untie the green silk ribbon on the tap. I got on one knee and she drew in a deep breath and placed her free hand, fingers splayed, on her collar bone.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Make an honest woman out of her, Killian!” me Uncle Seamus shouted.
“Stick a pipe in it, Seamus,” Mick demanded.
Quinn handed me the ribbon, and I slipped the ring from it.
“Oh, my God,” Josie said with such awe, it melted my heart.
“Josephine. I knew something was different about you the first moment my eyes landed on you at that kip I used to work at—no, offense Jack.”
“None taken,” replied the owner of Paddy’s, to a murmur of laughter.
“Over the last six months, I’ve come to understand the difference and fall madly, crazily in love with you.” My throat tightened. “You believed in me when I did not dare believe in myself. You poured your own sweat and blood—Sam can attest to that—” Sam took her to the hospital to get stitches when she cut her finger open on some tile.
“Yep,” Sam called out.
“You worked by my side, to make this,” I looked around the room, “my dream of dreams, come true. Your selflessness makes me want to be a better man. Josie, pulse of me heart, I’m on my knees askin’—no, I’m beggin’—for the opportunity to spend the rest of my life trying to become the man you deserve. I love you, my sweet, with every ounce of this Irishman’s heart.” I swallowed.
Gawd, I hope she says yes.
“Would you, Josephine Compton, do me the undeserved honor of becoming my Mrs. Murphey?”
She didn’t make me wait a breath. “Oh, yes. Yes! Yes!”
I don’t even remember rising. I only remember throwin’ me arms around the girl and squeezin’ the livin’ daylights out of her while a roar rose from the crowd. One solid sound of approval. I made them wait to congratulate us, and may have embarrassed my Uncle Seamus, because I couldn’t stop kissing her.
After a bit, though, Kyle started a cheer, “To Josie and Killian!” Then folks swarmed in on us, extending their congratulations.
Dani
We were applauding ourselves on outlasting Quinn and Seamus when Killian and Jo made their way to the back, looking tired but happy. The bar’s doors were locked and we were the last ones standing. But we were sitting.
“Here the happy couple are,” Tucker called out. We had purchased champagne, and he was handing the flutes out.
“Let me see that ring!” Sam hollered. She grabbed Jo’s hand. “I knew you guys would get together all along. That’s why I brought you into Paddy’s in the first place.”
“You, Mrs. Scofield, are a shameless liar. But a cute one,” Kyle corrected, laying a finger on her nose.
It was such a Sam thing to do, to grab credit where no credit was due. If someone brought treats into school and was complimented on them, Sam would immediately say. “Oh, I made those,” even though she was, in her words, “a piss poor cook.” Once, she put salad dressing into a cake instead of salad oil, thinking they were the same thing.
Jo showed off her ring, then found a seat in Killian’s lap, as he was in the last oversized armchair.
When everyone had their drink, Kyle raised his glass. “My turn this time Killian.” Our bar owner nodded. “May all your ups and downs…” he paused for dramatic effect “…be under the sheets.”
We all cracked up.
Sam squeezed his knee. “That was perfect, baby. I’m so glad you crashed lady’s night.”
“Thank you, sugar plum.” Kyle took another drink of champagne.
Tucker sat forward, resting his forearms on his k
nees, both hands on his flute. “Speaking of which, have you guys ever noticed there’s a certain dynamics to girls groups?”
Peter played along. “Yes. I saw a study done on it in the Harvard Review.”
“Ahh.” Tucker motioned at him with his glass. “Must have been the same article I read.” He continued. “It contended that in each friend group there’s a naughty girl….”
Sam did an elaborate bow.
Kyle beamed. “I’m so proud.”
“There’s a good girl who acts like a bad girl.”
“Dani,” all four guys said at once. We all laughed.
“And, finally, there’s the girl who actually is a good girl.”
Killian put a hand on Josie’s chin to tip it up. “My Josie.”
Tara piped in. “What am I, then?”
Sam swallowed her drink quickly so she could answer. “Mmm-mmm.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re the designated driver.”
“Gee, thanks,” Tara said wryly.
“No, wait.” Sam changed her mind. “You’re the extra friend who always gets killed off first in the horror movie.”
Tara laughed. “I think I preferred being the DD.”
We chuckled again.
I set my empty glass on the table. “No. Tara’s the Daphne of the group. Doesn’t add much intellectually. Just there for looks and odd moments of sexual tension.”
Tara sat forward and clapped her hands. “Ooh. I like that better.”
Sam waved her glass around. “No. No. No. You’re like the drummer. You keep the beat, but no one knows your name.”
Tara, who was used to Sam’s snark by this time, was not taken aback. “Oh, yeah. Well, I’m Ringo Starr, then. Everybody knows his name.”
Sam grimaced. “Do you really want to be Ringo Starr? He’s the conductor on some children’s train show.”
Tara tilted her head. “Conductor’s a respectable occupation. At least he doesn’t have dishpan hands.”
I leaned back into the cushioned embrace of my faux leather armchair, letting the champagne do its work. I tuned out the conversation, but listened to the music of their voices, and their laughter.
With these people’s help, I would put the nightmares about Thomas James behind me. I would tell them about my growing concern over Zack and Zoe’s relationship—even though they were back together at present—and they would listen. Sam and Kyle, and Tucker—their voices had brightened my days for a while. But these others—Tara and Peter, Josie and Killian, they were new additions to our circle. New additions I hoped would stay a long time. I looked around at each face in turn and felt that particular warmth and tug of love each individual brought me.
I came to Killian and Jo last. They, too, had faded out of the group conversation and were mostly kissing each other and sharing private words. What a sweet, loving couple. And to think we’d called her Satan at first. Sam still called out “Satan, line one,” whenever Jo called the kitchen. It had just become a thing, and it still amused us for some reason. Someone narced us out, though. Last week when Sam answered the kitchen phone, Jo said politely, “This is Satan. Can I please speak to Tara Devine?” As it turned out, we needed to look beyond the pitchfork to see the real person inside. The person Killian discovered without us.
The End
* * *
Page ahead for an excerpt from
Pitchfork in the Road
Book 5 in The Devilish Divas Series
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Pitchfork In The Road
The Devilish Divas Series, Book Five
If I had thought, at all, even for the briefest second, I wouldn’t have done what I did. But, my gaze ping-ponged from her balcony to the one below it, to the next one down, all the way to the ground. I stood up, ran up the stairs to the building’s door, climbed up on the hand rail, and launched myself into space. Whatever hormone I may have had that promoted logical thinking was drowned out by pure adrenaline and the urgent desire to explain myself to Zoe. My hands and elbows hit the balcony’s rails at the same time sending a lightning bolt of pain through my arms. I cursed and my grip began to slip. My palms burned as I slid down, the friction causing a squeaking noise as I squeezed the metal, but I stopped my descent when the railings met the concrete base.
Okay, genius. Now what?
In my head, the climb had seemed like a piece of cake. But how did I physically manage to get onto this balcony to reach the next one? The condo’s owner opened up their slider and stepped out on the balcony. I held my breath, looking down and considering dropping to the ground. I wasn’t that far up yet.
“What the hell are you doing?”
A big, burly bald guy, wearing a black tank top and ripped jeans, leaned over, his arms casually folded on the top rail.
“Uhh….” My hands were pleading for mercy, but I couldn’t hear them over the screams from my arms. “My girlfriend locked me out.” Somewhat true?
“Hmm….” His forehead creased and he looked up the side of the building. I wondered how much longer I’d be able to hold on. “What floor?”
I grimaced. “The fifth.”
His eyebrows rose and he nodded his head. “You’ve got some kahunas, my friend.” He extended his arms and locked his meaty hands around my biceps, lifting me like a sack of groceries. I stuck my feet between the railings, taking the pressure off my arms. I almost cried out in relief. “You want I should let you in and you can use the elevator like regular people?”
I considered this, then surveyed my course up again. “I think I’ve got to go up on the outside of the building. She’s not gonna let me in the front door. She may take pity on me this way.”
He patted me on the back of my shoulder. “Glad to see you have a plan. Anything else I can do for yas?”
“Umm…not call the cops? I’ve already visited with them tonight and they made it pretty clear they didn’t want to see me again.”
“I ain’t about to call no cops. I’m not one of their favorites either. And besides,” he pulled a chair up and sat, “this is the most entertainment I’ve got since the damn cable’s out again.”
“Oh. Okay.” I wasn’t exactly wanting an audience, but what could I do. Nick was probably already up there sweet-talking Zoe and filling her head with lies. “Do you mind if I stand on your rail?”
“Nah,” he waved a hand. “Go ahead.”
A couple on the sidewalk below stopped and stared up at me.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” my new friend growled.
“Nothing,” the guy answered right away, nudging his girlfriend forward. They kept walking.
“Thanks. My name’s Zack, by the way.” I reached out to shake his hand.
“Jonny.” His clasp squeezed the blood out of my already mutilated hands. “You best get goin’ now. Before them cops show up.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
The rest of the climb went fairly smoothly as the balconies weren’t that far apart and I was jumping up a little, not straight out, like I had been when I leaped from the stairs. As I made my zigzag way up, I caught the lady on the second floor on the phone. Luckily she was engrossed. The condo was dark on the third floor. On the fourth, lights were on, but no one was in the room. Now, on the fifth floor, the room was, thankfully, dark.
Jonny’s voice drifted up. “Nice.” He was leaning over his railing watching my progress.
I smiled. “Thanks.”
I just needed to get a balcony over to be at Zoe’s. Bricks jutted out from the building forming a decorative diamond shape bet
ween balconies. I tentatively reached out with my foot. That’s when my gaze drifted down and I realized how far up I was.
“Shit.”
I looked over at the balcony I was aiming for. I could make it if I stepped out on those bricks.
“Zo-ee you’re making me cra-zy!” And the talking out loud was additional proof of that.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
PITCHFORK IN THE ROAD
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Also by M.J. Schiller
The Devilish Divas Series
To Hell in a Coach Bag
Damned If I Do
The Devil You Know
Satan, Line One
Pitchfork in the Road
About the Author
Bestselling author M.J. Schiller is a retired lunch lady/romance-romantic suspense writer. She enjoys writing novels whose characters include rock stars, desert princes, teachers, futuristic Knights, construction workers, cops, and a wide variety of others. In her mind everybody has a romance. She is the mother of a twenty-three-year-old and three twenty-one-year-olds. That’s right, triplets! So having recently taught four children to drive, she likes to escape from life on occasion by pretending to be a rock star at karaoke. However…you won’t be seeing her name on any record labels soon.
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