Page 108 of The Holy Grail
“Can I get you something to drink?” Evan asked, ever the bartender.
“Macallan,” Malcom replied. “Neat, please.”
With efficient movements, Evan grabbed the bottle of Macallan and poured two fingers into a short glass, then set it down on the bar.
“I never knew your name, so I had no idea Jules knew you, or you were the guy she was working for,” Malcom said, after swirling the golden-brown liquid a few times and taking a sip, which went down like liquid heaven. “The bar name was different, too.”
It also looked different inside, he noted, taking in some modern upgrades and decor changes, which made the space more pleasing, along with better music emanating from overhead speakers. There was also a new, large flat-screen TV hanging on one wall, currently broadcasting a Chicago Cubs baseball game, with the sound muted.
“We changed it after my dad died,” Evan explained, then went on to add, “I didn’t know she knew you, or you were the shy guy she was seeing. She never told me your name, either, so I always referred to you as What’s-His-Name when we talked about you. Immature, maybe, but whatever.”
Overlooking the ‘What’s-His-Name’ moniker (even though he found it mildly amusing), Malcom asked, “Shy guy?”
“That’s how she described you.” Evan shrugged. “She said you weren’t her regular type, and you were shy. She also mentioned you two being a ‘good fit’, which I could have done without hearing.”
“Hmm.” Malcom paused, then murmured, “She said you were hot.”
“I am hot. Looks like she was on the money with both of us.” Evan couldn’t help but smirk, pleased to get the better description, before changing the subject and becoming business-like. “So, what are you doing here, Mal?”
“I thought we should talk.”
“Yeah? What about?”
Evan’s dry tone had Malcom raising his eyebrows. “Oh, I don’t know, the weather? I hear it’s supposed to be really nice next week.”
Instead of answering, Evan simply adopted a bland expressionand waited.
“Why don’t we start with what happened yesterday,” Malcom suggested.
“You mean the meet-and-greet at the Farmer’s Market?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well, I don’t know what there is to talk about. Sure, it was unexpected and awkward as hell, but—”
“I know, and I wanted to say I was sorry for that.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It was just … bad timing.” Evan shrugged. “The three of us would have crossed paths eventually, so at least we got it out of the way.”
“I’m still sorry it happened like that. It was … shitty.”
“It was shitty,” Evan agreed. “And I appreciate the apology, but like I said, it wasn’t your fault.”
Just then, they were interrupted by Amber, the new waitress hired to replace Mandy, who was now one of the head bartenders and kicking ass in her new position.
“I need a Guinness, two Fireball shots, and a Cosmo,” Amber recited from a small notepad.
“Fucking Cosmo,” Evan muttered, before getting to work.
While Evan was occupied, Malcom used the time to watch, accepting the fact he was still profoundly drawn to Evan, despite the eight years that had passed since seeing him. Back then, he’d been twenty-eight, and the only real change now was in his more serious demeanor—the easy-going, happy young man with the endless smiles and flirtatious charm had been replaced with someone who had sharper edges. However, despite the changes, Evan was as compelling as ever, his hold on Malcom still as strong.
Evan was also still fine as hell.
When he was done filling the order, he came back to Malcom and asked, “So, was that it?”
“No. We also need to talk about you and me,” Malcom replied.
“That’ll be a real short conversation, then, because there is no you and me. There never was, actually.”
