Page 10 of Wild Rush Of Love
No one knew why he’d gone or where he’d gone and, as far as Rush was concerned, good riddance. He was glad they’d seen the last of Lawrence George Farnham. He’d been an asshole as well as a pompous prick and couldn’t manage a business out of a wet paper bag.
With Cam in the GM role and Harry back on deck, things were going to improve. They had improved. And he knew it was only the beginning. Things would soon be back to those heady days of standing room only and nonstop work.
“Rush.”
His head snapped up. Cam stood in the entry to the bar. The look on the man’s face was enough to have Rush’s insides cramping, a heavy weight filling his chest. Whatever put that look on Cam’s face wasn’t good. He didn’t need words to know the world was about to shift.
Slowly he pushed upright, walked around the end of the bar.
“Harry’s dead.”
“What?” He stumbled. “Dead? How?”
“Accident. On the road in from the highway.” Cam placed a hand on the archway. “I… I just…” He shook his head. “Matilda. Lark.”
“But…” Rush glanced at the seat Harry had sat in yesterday afternoon. He’d come in to talk to Rush about the bar. About how they could pull in more customers. Not just those who stayed at the Lodge but locals. “He was just…”
“Kennedy called.” Cam staggered toward a seat, sank into it. “She was at Larissa’s House, with Jagger. Ren told her.”
“Jesus.” Rush dropped into a chair beside Cam. “I can’t… When?”
“Last night I think. Kennedy wasn’t sure. She and Ren are going over to Harry’s now. To see Lark. She’ll call me after she knows more.” He looked around the room. “I gave her the night off. I’ll work if you need waitstaff.”
Rush shook his head. “I doubt we’ll need it.” He leaned over; resting his elbows on his knees, he cradled his head in his hands. “Fuck. Harry.”
“I know.” Cam pushed to his feet. “I need to find Alice. I don’t know what to do about the rest of the staff.”
“I’ll tell Hank. Desi when she comes in. Jesus, Cam. What the fuck will happen with the Lodge?”
“I don’t know. Other than Matilda and Lark, and Ren, Harry doesn’t have any family.” He placed a hand on Rush’s shoulder. “Call if you need me to come back.”
“Yeah, okay.”
When Cam left, Rush sat trying to get his head around Harry being dead. It didn’t seem real but it had to be. He needed to go to the kitchen, tell Hank. The chef, like Rush and Alice, had been at the Lodge for years, had been friends with Harry as well as an employee.
Jesus, did Burt know? Rush hadn’t seen him today but Burt and Harry went back far longer than anyone else around here; they’d grown up together.
Detouring behind the bar, Rush grabbed a bottle of Harry’s favorite Macallan and two shot glasses. They’d need a splash to get them through this.
The big guy was at the stove stirring a big pot of what smelled like his famous beef stew. Over the years Rush had devoured many a bowl of Hank’s beef stew.
“Hey.” He put the glasses on the counter and cracked the bottle. Filling each glass to the rim he took a moment to cap the bottle and put it down. Blowing out a breath he said, “There ain’t no easy way to say this so I’ll just get it out there. Harry’s dead. Car accident. I don’t know details. Kennedy called Cam, Cam told me. Just now.”
He picked up the glass and held it out. Hank stared at him for a full minute before he walked over and picked up the other glass.
“Harry,” Rush murmured as he tapped his glass to Hank’s and sank the shot.
After a quiet moment Hank asked, “We got anyone out there?”
Rush shook his head.
“Maybe we should shut up for the night. It’s not like we get many in on a Tuesday.”
“Yeah, maybe we can take this bottle back into the bar and call Cam and Alice down.”
Hank nodded. “I’ll just…” He looked around. “Yeah, okay, let’s call Cam and Alice down.”
Rush picked up the bottle and his glass, left the other for Hank to bring out, and went back to the bar. He dragged a stool out and sank onto it. “Fuck.”
