out,” she offers.
“I’m stuffed, but I would totally pretend to sip a beer so I could stare at him for a while.” Her friend pats her belly.
They both laugh and I join in, although I sound like I’m choking on a squeaky toy, or like I’ve swallowed the Wicked Witch of the West. “Do you mind if I take one of these?”
“Go right ahead! I say you should treat yourself after you close up for the night and enjoy some eye candy.” She pushes one of the coupons toward me.
“I might do that.” I wink and slide the coupon into my apron pocket, then clear their empty plates and cups.
After I drop them in the bus bin, I sidle up to Daphne at the till and slap the coupon on the counter. “Looks like our neighbor wasn’t being quite so supportive.”
Daphne scans the coupon. “Where’d you get this?”
“He gave it to our customers on his way out. Invited them to his Grand Opening. So kind and thoughtful, huh?”
“But you said that place was a construction site last week. How could it be ready to open so soon?”
“Who the hell knows?” I glance at the tables and notice that there are several women holding the same damn coupon. That slimy bastard. “But I’m going over there to confront him. Hold down the fort.” I grab the coupon, stalk around the counter and head for the door, my anger gaining steam as I step outside and notice the giant GRAND OPENING banner plastered to his storefront and the sign that looks almost exactly like mine, but reads DONE WITH TEA AND CAKES? NEED A BREAK FROM WONDERLAND? HALF-PRICE BEER IS HERE!
“Sonofdouchecanoe!” I mutter and stomp my way up the front steps. I yank on the door, expecting the same suction vacuum as last time. However, the problem must have been fixed last week because it opens surprisingly easily, almost sending me flying backward. Again, but for the opposite reason.
I recover before I end up sprawled out over the sidewalk and step inside the low-lit pub. It’s the exact opposite of my bright, airy café. However, I can easily pick out at least six tables with familiar faces—because they were all recently patrons of mine before they defected here.
I loathe to admit that in the week since I stepped foot in this place, it’s come together quite nicely. Despite the dim lighting, I can see the tables are pale pine, and the décor, although lacking in sophistication, is cozy and comfortable. And, as I predicted, there’s a red-and-black plaid theme throughout.
Perfectly publike. It’s a great place to sit back, drink beers, eat wings and hang out with other hipsters while getting your axe throw on. Which is exactly what’s happening in the back half of the pub.
It’s even manned by a huge, ominous-looking bouncer who doesn’t let anyone through the door without first signing a waiver and passing a sobriety test.
I drag my attention away from the axe-throwing enclosure and search the bar for the backstabbing turd who owns the place. I find him behind the bar, a black towel thrown over his shoulder, matching his black-rimmed glasses.
I cross the hardwood floor, noting that it’s been freshly varnished, and step up to the bar as Ronan places a pint in front of one of his customers with a wink. She also happens to have recently been a customer of mine.
He grins when he sees me and props his thick, gloriously tattooed forearms on the bar. Gloriously tattooed? What is wrong with me? “You taking a break from Wonderland to join the madness, Alice?”
“I’d like to talk to you.”
“I’m a little busy.” He motions to the already crowded pub. “But you can pull up a stool and tell me all your woes over a pint.” He winks.
I want to poke him in the eye.
I ignore his semi-flirtatious behavior, aware that these are probably the lines he uses on every single woman who bats her lashes at him, which I don’t do. Instead, I slap the coupon on the bar. “Would you care to explain this?”
“It’s a coupon for half price beer and wings. Not sure you’re much of a wing eater since that would mean getting your fingers dirty.” And there’s that smile again. So condescending.
“I know it’s a coupon and I know what it’s for, thanks. I’m fully capable of reading. What I’d like to know is what the hell you think you’re doing coming into my café under the guise of being