looking from him to me. A few tip the necks of their bottles at me and several smile.
“More importantly, she puts up with my shit. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m pulling beers and Willow’s got one batch of Girly Beer left for tonight. That’s all that’s on the drink menu. So if you want mixed drinks, go home and make ’em yourself because she’s taking the night off to hang out with her friends.”
Mouth agape, I blink. Finally finding words, I mouth at him, “What?”
Unc smiles wider. “Take the night off, girl. You deserve it. Hell, take Olivia with you. She deserves it even more than you. Poor thing’s been putting up with my grumpy ass since the dawn of time.”
“I ain’t that old, old man!” Olivia calls out, but I see her coming toward the bar and taking her apron off. “And neither are you.” Kinder and quieter, she asks, “You sure, Hank?”
“Hell yeah, I’m sure. I used to run this place by myself and I can damn sure do it for a couple of hours.” Louder, to the crowd, he says, “In case you didn’t notice, your waitress is off duty and I don’t do that shit. If you want something to eat or drink, then you’d best get up and come to the bar and order it yourself, capiche?”
Heads nod, and from over by the pool table, a guy calls out sarcastically, “Yes sir, Hank.” His laughter can be heard across the bar and his buddies high-five him.
“Keep it up, Chuckles, and I’ll cut you off,” Unc threatens.
The table of guys sobers and eye their almost empty pitcher. I’m pretty sure they’ll be ordering another one any minute in case Unc decides not to serve them any more tonight.
“Glad we understand each other, gentlemen. As you were.”
Unc walks back to his perch, limping slightly, but he covers it by making it seem like he’s checking the stock along the bar. Lemons, limes, napkins, ice . . .
They’re all good, Unc. You know I got you covered.
Somehow, I find myself sitting at a table with all the Tannen and Bennett women, a frozen Girly Beer in front of me, Olivia at my side and apparently off work for the evening.
Still in shock, I ask Olivia, “Has he ever done anything like this?”
“Hell no. It’s like Ebenezer Scrooge woke up and understood the meaning of Christmas or something. But I’m not going to argue. Actually, what I’m going to do is shoot this beer, sneak out the back door, and go over to Hannah’s shop and surprise her. If I’m off tonight—no offense to you ladies—but I’d rather spend the evening with my lady.”
She’s challenging them too, the way she did me at first. But the whole group smiles, Shayanne encouraging her to ‘go getcha some.’
Rix tells Olivia, “If Hank says anything, you’re in the bathroom. If he questions it, we’ll say you got your period. Shuts men up every time.”
She’s an absolute evil genius and I love it.
Olivia shows her appreciation by swallowing her beer in one long gulp, waving goodbye, and skirting around the dance floor to disappear into the kitchen.
“You think she’s okay to drive?” I ask, suddenly realizing that though it was only one beer, she downed it quickly so it’ll hit her all at once.
Shayanne laughs. “One, she’s no lightweight. Two, Hannah’s shop is down the street so she’s probably walking over. And three, the way she opened up her throat and poured that beer down, that woman would probably give one mean blowjob.”
I blink in shock. So does everyone else. Silently.
“What? I’m just saying,” Shayanne replies with a shrug. “You know how long it took me to not choke? Maybe I can ask her how she learned to do that?” She looks off toward the kitchen, and Sophie lays a staying hand on her arm. “Right, not now. Probably not the best time. But later . . .” She trails off.
“Breathe through your nose,” Katelyn offers quietly, and all our heads swivel her way. She shrugs, but it starts another tidal wave of laughter.
“I cannot believe you just said that!” Allyson’s eyes are wide with shock.
Katelyn’s returning smile is coy and innocent.
“What about you?” Shayanne whirls on me, eyes boring into my soul.
I can feel the blood rush out of my face and know I must be as pale as a ghost. “Uh, what about me?”
She is not asking if I choke, surely not. Right? Because that is not a conversation