Two
Gavin
Grabbing a handful of bar peanuts, I shoveled them into my mouth. “This joint really needs to start making some damn food or something. I’m starving.” I chucked a peanut right at Sean’s ear, missing.
Damn it. At least I have better aim on the ice.
My best friend rolled his eyes at me. “One week left of singlehood. Man, are you ready?” Sean chuckled a little before taking another gulp from his three-fingers pour of Jameson.
I shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever fucking be.”
Sean slapped my shoulder harder than most would find friendly, but that was just how we were with each other. “It’s going to be great man. I’m really excited for you and Marsheila.”
“You fucking hate her. You’re not fooling anyone.”
He gasped dramatically, putting his hand to his chest. “When have I ever said anything of the sort?”
“Come on, dude, you know I’m right. How about every fucking time you’ve been drunk since the day I told you I was going to ask Marsheila to marry me? It’s been nonstop slurs of ‘You’re making a huge mistake, man. Don’t do it, dude. That old ball and chain is going to ruin your fucking life.’”
“Me? No, I would never.” Sean flashed a quick grin. “What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t question the biggest decision of your life?”
I shrugged. “A crappy one, I guess, but still, we’re a week away; I think we both know this is going to happen.”
Sean threw up his hands. “You’re right. I was only looking out for your best interest. If that’s marrying the Wicked Witch of the West, then by all means, be my guest.”
“You barely even know her.” I slammed my empty glass down in front of the bartender. “Bar temptress, another.”
She pushed her short black pixy-style hair away from her face with the back of her hand, giving me the stink eye. “You know I cannot stand it when you call me that, Gavin.”
She started to make my second Manhattan, giving me a coy smile. “Oh come on, Jordan, you know I’m just messing with you.”
Jordan smiled at me, setting the glass down on the coaster then putting two cherries in, just the way I liked. “You haven’t changed one bit since high school. You’re still the same pompous ass you’ve always been.”
I took a long swig. “Yes, and that’s why you love me.”
She grabbed her stomach as she let out a deep laugh, slapping her tiny hand onto the counter. “In your fucking dreams, Gavin. In your fucking dreams.”
Jordan would never admit it, but Sean and I were the only two people she even remotely tolerated from our graduating class. The three of us had been a little wolf pack since any of us could remember, growing up just a few houses apart in the old neighborhood.
It helped that we were some of the few that went different routes than the conventional college education after high school. Jordan Bates was one of the best bartenders in the city; she even went around the country helping bars train their new drink slingers. Sean was one of New York City’s finest; wearing that blue uniform suited him well and he burst with pride every time we talked about it. And me, I was the hooligan of the bunch, playing hockey for the New York Otters.
Even though hockey was my dream, it was a hard sell. Most people thought I had lucked into the role because of my old man. It didn’t help that I was drafted to the team he fucking coached—that fact actually made my life a living hell. Of course, I was proud to wear the red, white, and blue uniform—I had wanted to since I was a little kid, but that had been back when my dad was still my hero, not a washed-up jackass that treated me like the scum of the earth.
“Sean, how was work today?” Jordan started cleaning up the bar, our cue that it was getting close to time to get the heck out of Dodge.
Sean slouched back in his seat. “It was a fucking day of it to say the least.”
Usually, Sean was pretty forthcoming with stories from his day. He loved telling us about all the crazy shit people tried to pull, lies they thought would get them out of whatever charges were about to be brought against them, how stupid some people could really be, etc. When he kept quiet, we knew something seriously messed up had happened during his shift. Jordan poured him a few more fingers of whiskey as his eyes started to well up with tears. We both knew that meant they had lost someone that day, and we sure as shit weren’t going to press the issue. If Sean wanted to talk about it, he would.
He stared down at the amber liquid, his pointer finger tracing the rim of the glass. “It’s sad when a parent dies but their kid survives. It’s miserable when anyone dies, but a mother dying in front of her daughter is downright awful.” He slammed back the rest of his drink and grabbed his coat from the stool next to him. “I think it’s time to call it a night. See you guys at the rehearsal dinner?”
“Yeah, man. See you Friday.”
* * *
Shaking hands—check.
Sweat dripping down my ass crack—check.