Page 60 of Iron Hearts

The Iron Horse’s security was out front, checking ID’s, turning away anyone in colors to put those colors up, and stopping anyone coming in from the Broken Spoke from bringing in any alcohol with them.

The trash cans out front were filling up, and laminated printed signs were plastered everywhere out front with ‘no alcohol beyond this point – we look forward to serving you all the food you can eat.’

I was fucking starving, and posted up in line to grab a bite before heading up to look for Rarity.

She said she would be at her bar, slinging sodas, and floats.

Bar number two had been officially designated as an old-fashioned soda jerk fountain for the event. Rarity’s friend’s idea. The other waitress, Gemma, who’d worked at an ice cream parlor as a teen.

It’d been a good idea, and helped out parents that were excited to have their kids get a look at where they got to hang out as usually the Iron Horse was 21+.

I know Rarity was excited, because her mother and three brothers had reluctantly agreed to attend. She’d said it had taken her,andher mother’s parents a few days to convince them – and I was surprisingly nervous to meet them.

Didn’t take me long to figure out who her family was as three little boys were up on bar stools across from Rarity, each tow-headed and wearing glasses, all three in matching little outfits of olive drab long shorts, navy blue polos, and smart little high-top sneakers.

Nearby, there was an umbrella high-top table with an older couple and a woman with graying blonde hair that had to be Rarity’s mother.

I didn’t go there right away. I made for the bar and the last open bar stool left between one of Rarity’s brothers and a woman and her man.

I slid up onto the stool and set down my food on the bar.

“Hey, you!” Rarity called and asked, “What can I get you?”

“Root beer if you got it,” I said.

“Absolutely, a float or just the root beer?”

“Make it a float,” I said with a grin and her smile was a million watts.

“Boys,” she called out, scooping ice into a plastic cup. “I want you to meet my friend Striker.” Three little faces turned up to me.

“Striker, this is Caden next to you, Braden in the middle, and that’s Aden at the far end.”

“Nice to meet you, boys!” I said jovially, taking a bite of my garlic butter-soaked steak tips over mashed potatoes.

God that was good!

I was met with a chorus of timid “hi’s and a “hey” from her brothers.

“Nice to meet you, boys. You having fun?” I asked.

“Yeah,” they all said, and the middle one slurped a spoonful of his float.

Rarity set down a float in front of me and I winked at her and she winked at me.

She and I chatted while I ate, and we all listened to the band down below.

When her mom and grandparents came over to collect the boys to head to the beach, Rarity didn’t introduce me – not yet. I got that. Things were still new enough that I was just a guy she was talking to. Not enough of a thing yet to go that far. When the kids and her elders had disappeared down the steps, she turned to me and was a bright pink. I smiled from behind my float as I sipped it from the rim.

“Sorry,” she said. “I feel like an asshole now for not saying anything…”

“Don’t,” I told her. “We definitely aren’t serious enough for that yet. I get it,” I said.

She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and leaned on the bar from her side and pitching her voice low, for my ears only, said to me, “It sure feels like things are… you know… getting there.”

I smiled and nodded knowingly. “Glad we’re on the same page, but for real – I’m not offended and my feelings aren’t hurt.”

She nodded and sighed. “Thanks,” she said.

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