Page 21 of Whiskey Wednesdays

I looked up at him. “You’re Zeke, the cynical bastard who doesn’t trust just one system.”

He looked down at me quizzically, then froze when I impulsively hugged him. Zeke held out his arms for a few seconds then awkwardly patted my back.

“You don’t know me, but thank you.” I stepped back. “And I’m sorry for mauling you.”

He winked. “I don’t know what the hell that was about, but I’ll take a good mauling from a beautiful woman any day.”

Damien pointed to me. “You gonna tell them the story, or should I?”

I turned to the kitchen bar. “You can tell it while we drink Connor McCoy’s whiskey. Which is both ironic and highly fitting.”

Harley chuckled. “Yeah, that is pretty ironic.”

Everyone looked at us quizzically.

Sebastian picked up the bottle again. “Are you sure your dad is okay with us drinking his expensive-as-fuck whiskey?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t like hard liquor, and I hear Connor is loaded.” I looked at the bottle and sighed. “Dad probably knew you guys would be here. It’s his way of saying thank you.”

Laurel pulled out some whiskey tumblers, and Sebastian poured the whiskey.

Zeke leaned against the counter. “I’m curious. How is Connor McCoy, aka The Hammer, and one of the greatest fucking professional hockey forwards in decades, related to me being a cynical bastard and you having a five hundred dollar bottle of whiskey?”

Damien told everyone what happened the weekend Noah robbed Connor and tried to frame me. I took a sip of my whiskey and choked a little. It tasted like turpentine to me. I slid my glass over to Jonathan, who grinned and held up his glass in thanks.

Harley shook her head. “What an asshole. Noah was so self-righteous until Damien told Connor about the secondary cameras.”

Damien grinned. “And then Noah looked like he was ready to shit a brick.”

Just remembering that night made my stomach tighten.

Laurel slid a prickly pear martini over to me. “Try this. I think you’ll like it better.” She turned to the group. “I’m getting this third hand, but Connor’s former assistant told my roommate, Martina, that Noah hit on her. And when she shot him down he got nasty and manhandled her.”

“It doesn’t surprise me.” I looked at Damien. “He was the one who damaged Connor’s front gate on Christmas Eve, wasn’t he?”

Damien studied me. “Yeah. I got the impression you had a run-in with him too. What happened?”

“I actually had two run-ins with him.”

I told them about Noah demanding my dad wash his car. And for some reason, I also told them about Noah grabbing me after my hike.

Zeke shook his head in disgust. “That fucker. What did Connor say when you told him?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t tell him. Connor’s not my favorite person either.”

I was surprised when Sebastian answered. “Isabella,eso es estupido.You need to tell him. He can’t help keep you safe if he doesn’t know.”

Everyone paused. I felt a pregnant weight in the air, and Laurel looked guilt-stricken.

Ramone broke the awkward silence. “Well, if I had to drink whiskey instead of martinis, this is a fabulous one.”

Zeke studied me and took a sip. “It’s fucking smooth. McCoy does have great taste in whiskey.”

A few days later, I spent New Year's Eve with the same group at a bar called The Cockpit in downtown Palm Springs. I let Dad know where I’d be, and pulled out the cute little black dress I’d bought a few years ago and kept for these types of occasions. I also spent some extra time on my hair and makeup.

The Cockpit was just off Palm Canyon Drive and Arenas Road, not far from my apartment. Laurel mentioned it was a gay bar their friends owned.

When I walked in, I spotted Laurel and Sebastian at a large table with several other people I recognized from the Martini Monday party.

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