Page 36 of Bountiful
“You guys want to run a tab?” the bartender asked, leaning on the bar in front of me. He looked a little familiar, but I didn’t think I’d met himbefore.
“Sure,” O’Doul said, pulling a credit card out of hiswallet.
“Ooh! The captain is springing for drinks. Somebody got a nice contract extension,”Castrosaid.
The bartender took the card but then paused. “It’s Vermont night, but you need to show a driver’s license to get thediscount.”
O’Doul shook his head. “We’re not local. Charge us the fullfreight.”
The bartender left us alone, and Castro gave a happy sigh. “All problems are more easily solved in a bar,” Castrodeclared.
“Not sure that’s true, man.” I took a sip of my beer. “But it’s good to be here with you guys,anyway.”
To their credit, neither O’Doul nor Castro had laughed or made a big fuss about my crazy news. They both hit me with one-armed man hugs, slapping me on the back and asking what they could dotohelp.
Maybe I was the world’s biggest asshole, but I had some awesomefriends.
“You’re right,” Leo said, tracing the condensation on the outside of his beer bottle. “Since this whole thing got started inabar.”
“So we’ve come full circle.” O’Doul chuckled. “Drinkup,men.”
Castro, O’Doul, and I tipped our shot glasses back and swallowed. Leo had appointed himself the designated driver, so there was no tequila for therookie.
The tequila burned my throat in a good way. And, damn. I hadn’t chosen the drink, but it sure as hell reminded me of Zara. Whatever poetic randomness had put tequila into O’Doul’s head when he’d ordered our shots, I wouldn’t question. But it made me nostalgic for that more carefree time. When Zara had thought I was a fun fling. Before I’d helped derailherlife.
Easy, I coached myself. She was going to be okay. I’d make sure of it. It couldn’t be easy being a single mother and a business owner, though. I wondered how she did itatall.
I wondered a lot ofthings.
“This is a great bar,” Doulie said, glancing around at the exposed brick walls. “Good vibe. And it’s nicer than that little place we hung out last time we came to Vermont. TheMountainLion.”
“The MountainGoat,” Icorrected.
The dark-haired man behind the bar grinned as he set a bottle of beer down in front of Doulie. “I’m definitely giving the Goat some competition.” He put a fresh beer in front of each of us. “You boys need anything elserightnow?”
“No thanks,”Isaid.
“Guess we can’t go to that other bar, anyway,” O’Doul offered. “It would be like returning to the scene of the crime, right, Beri?” The captain laughed at hisownjoke.
“She doesn’t work there anymore,” I said to shut down that particulardiscussion.
The bartender gave us the side-eye as he wiped down the counter. His mouth got weirdly tight, and he studied me in a way I really didn’t like. But I was probably just beingparanoid.
“Anyone want to shoot some pool?” I asked, hoping for a change ofsubject.
“The tables are busy,” Leo said, jumping off his stool. “I’ll put some quarters down to getinline.”
“Good rookie.” O’Doul chuckled. “He snaps to attention. You should be more like Leo,” he said, teasingCastro.
“Oh, please,” Castro said with an eye-roll. He was a fun kid. A party animal and witty in a way that women enjoyed. “Nobody can kiss ass like Leo. There’s no point intrying.”
“Thing is,” I said, taking a sip of my beer. “Leo isn’t an ass-kisser. He means all the shit he says. He’s reallythatnice.”
“Not all of us can jump over the bar if it’s set that high,” Castro argued. “Maybe you should try to lead byexample.”
“I’m nice,” I argued. “Niceish. I’m at least as nice asDoulie,here.”
“But I hit people for a living,” O’Doul pointed out. He was our team’s enforcer as well as the captain. “If I was too nice, they’dfireme.”
