as long as I can remember. I don’t like to think about him living there by himself with no one to look after him.”
“He’s a grown man. I think he could probably handle it,” he says. He’s done counting the money and a large stack of bills sits on the counter as he washes out glasses.
“How much?” I ask, nodding to the cash.
That crooked smile breaks out on his face, and I have to look away.
“Five hundred sixty-two smackeroos,” he says.
My jaw drops. “Are you sure?”
“Counted it twice.”
I smile and shake my head. I can’t believe it. If that’s what we brought in from cash tips alone, I can’t wait to see what the bar tabs look like.
“Do you live by yourself?” I ask, going back to the previous subject. I know surprisingly little about Colton other than what nights of the week he works here. Is he going to college? Does he have a girlfriend? I never realized just how little he actually talks about himself.
“In a way,” he says. When I stare at him, he continues. “My family’s what you would call close, I guess.”
“Care to elaborate on that? Or are you just going to let my imagination run wild? Because I’m picturing you in a big barn with one giant family bed right now.”
He laughs so hard he has to lower his head and stop cleaning for a second. “It’s nothing like that,” he says. “Some people think we’re a bit strange, though, I’ll put it that way.”
“Aww, come on, you’ve got to give me more than that,” I say, honestly interested now in figuring out what he seems so hesitant to explain to me.
He pulls a couple fresh shot glasses from the pile and sets them out. “Come take a break for a minute and have a celebratory shot,” he says. “And I’ll tell you all about my crazy family.”
I was hoping to get this done and crawl into bed for the rest of my life, but my interest is piqued and I can’t resist. Besides, tonight’s success calls for a little celebration.
“Why not?” I say. I drop the mop and sit down across from him.
He looks shocked, but recovers quickly.
“Scotch,” I tell him, but he’s already got my favorite brand in his hand and is pouring it before I finish the word.
Someone’s been paying attention.
He pours a whiskey for himself and leans his forearms against the wood of the bartop.
“To the best night Rob’s has ever seen,” he says, holding his glass toward me.
I nod and clink mine against his before taking a long drink. I slam it down on the counter, enjoying the warmth as it trickles down my throat. My shoulders immediately relax, and I nod for him to fill it up one more time. “If I’m going to take a break, let’s make it worth my while,” I say.
“Hell yeah,” he says and fills my glass again.
“Okay, so tell me about this crazy family of yours,” I say. “You guys all live together?”
“Are you really interested?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “We’ve been working together for months, and I really don’t know that much about you.”
“Okay,” he says with a sigh. “My great-grandfather bought a nice piece of wooded land on the other side of the county line about a hundred years ago,” he says. “He had a lot of ideas about government control and wanting to stay as private and as off-the-grid as he could, so he set up what he called a sanctuary for all his kinfolk.”
I narrow my eyes. “So you live on a commune?”
“No, nothing like that,” he says with a laugh. “More like a trailer park owned and operated by my daddy.”
My eyebrows shoot up and I nearly spit out the scotch I’ve just sucked down. I cough and wipe my mouth. “Wait, what?”
“I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but my dad and his brothers still own the land and they let all of us live there,” he says, tossing back another shot. “If you’re family, all you have to do is pick out a lot and set up camp. No questions asked. No money exchanged.”
“So everyone just buys a trailer and finds a place to park it?” I’ve never heard of anything like this in my life.
“I guess you could put it that way,” he says.
“How many people are we talking about?” I ask.
He looks up toward the ceiling as if the answer’s written in the air. “Let’s see. Ten trailers at the moment,” he says. “Each