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“I’m pretty sure they might end it too. The colon can only handle so much dairy at my age.” She took a sip of her wine spritzer and smoothed her inky black hair that was sprayed into a perfect dome of waves.
I’d been right the first time I saw Amaryllis at the BBQ. She was awesome. In her eighties, she had more life in her pinky finger than most twenty-year-olds had in their whole bodies.She’d already told us about spending her morning volunteering at the donkey rescue, hosting a ribbon cutting at a new dry cleaner’s, and having lunch with the Elmer librarians.
“I can’t believe not a single country music question.” Wanda crossed her arms over her rather impressive bosom and glared over the top of her rhinestone glasses at Sherman in disgust. Wanda, the final member of our team, had two trivia specialties: the aforementioned country music and world series statistics. Her being the mayor’s bestie also got her a seat at the table.
The Pub was exactly as my brother described it. He’d told me to imagine the TV show Cheers from back in the day but swap the Boston influence for Texas and add a dartboard and a foosball table. He’d not been wrong. Everyone did seem to know each other’s names.
“Time! Pens down. Shelia and Lara will be around to pick up the answer sheets from each team. Don’t run off after I announce the winner. We have The Sidewinders taking the stage. They will cover all your favorite country hits tonight. So, get your dancing shoes ready!” Sherman, leaning heavily on a cane, moved off the stage so the band could set up.
“He’s got to get a ramp. Or let me do the MC job.” Lara watched her father navigate the four steps that led down from the stage with a hand on her hip. It was obvious she wanted to rush over and ensure he didn’t fall.
“Lara, honey, at his age he’s doing great.” Amaryllis took Lara’s hand and gave it a fond squeeze.
“Ugh, he needs a knee replacement. But now they have the new condo in Florida to worry about, so he’s putting it off. Men are so frustrating!” She held out her hand for the answer sheet.
I waved the sheet of paper and waited for her to make her way around the table to take it. “Lara, seriously, I’m getting your number from Cameron. I want to pick your brain on the bar business.”
“This is nothing like a tasting room. We are so not that classy.”
As if to illustrate her point, a rough-looking tabby cat with gold eyes leaped onto our table. Lara jerked her chin at the feline, like ta-da, my point made fur.
“Your family has made a living in the hospitality business for three generations. I know nothing. Please come school me. You are a gold mine of valuable info. I’ll pay you in cash, wine, or Blue Star steaks.” I’d shocked the hell out of her by asking her to consult when we were first introduced, but I’d convince her.
“She is serious… it was all she talked about on the way over once we told her The Pub was a family business.” Gabriel draped an arm over my chair, his words garbled by a combination of lots of beer and his accent.
“Sure, no problem. I’ll help. But right now, I’ll take that answer sheet.” She plucked the paper from my hand. I could tell she didn’t think I’d call.Ye of little faith. I’d be calling.
“And Mayor, stop that,” Lara added as she stacked our appetizer baskets.
Amaryllis froze, one hand in a gold foil pouch that looked like something from a fancy chocolate shop, but based on the smell wafting over our table, it was anything but. No, the unmistakable odor of dead and decaying fish leached from the bag in disgusting waves. I threw up a little in my mouth at the stench.
The cat bumped the package with his head and purred loud enough to vibrate everything on the table. He made the cute kitten face at the mayor, waiting hopefully for a stinky treat.
“But Chuck loves them.” Amaryllis stroked his tattered ear.
“He’s gaining weight and his breath stinks.”
“Lara, hush, no body shaming in public. It’s embarrassing for him.” The cat took a treat from the mayor’s fingers, unconcerned about the extra calories. “Besides, it’s the junk other people feed him, like hot dogs and processed nacho cheese, that are makinghim plump. These are natural and organic. I order them from a cat bakery in Dallas.”
“That cat. He was Satan’s minion; now he’s a degenerate beggar debasing himself for organic treats. It’s all Wilson’s fault.” Lara shoved our answer sheet in her apron and started cleaning up empty glasses. “Hey, where is he?”
“Working. He had a call with LA. More importantly, does new-and-improved Chuck still bite my brother?” Cameron asked.
“Every time.” Lara and Cameron shared a smile of pure, wicked amusement.
“Give King Charles an extra treat, Grandma. He’s a good kitty.” Cameron patted Chuck fondly.
“Of course, dear.” Amaryllis extracted another stinky morsel from the pouch for the bar cat.
With a groan of defeat, Lara moved to the next table that was holding a score sheet aloft, waiting for pickup.
“Just like a man, letting you buy his affections with food. My meatloaf helped me land Melvin,” Wanda added.
“Huh, I thought the key to a man’s heart was sex,” Cameron shot back.
“Nope, I don’t want to know about my brother’s sex life.” Not when mine was so—lifeless. Hopeless.
A line graph showing the excitement factor of my sex life would be a gentle downward slope that bottomed out about five years ago, in the middle of my relationship with Matthew. Shockingly, about the time he’d given me the fax machine for Christmas. Then one night with Atley, that would shoot straight up off the top of the chart, then fall to zero. And damn it, I wanted more of that sex spike in my life. And not just any penis would do. I wanted Atley’s. Once you’ve had a dirty-talking, gruff cowboy who could dole out orgasms like candy on Halloween, why even bother with the rest?
