He also understood that he wanted to find romantic love again. To break down Iggy’s walls and see what they could have together. And the fact that Iggy hadn’t created an excuse to flee their bed after Malcolm dropped the l-word?
It gave him hope Iggy felt the same way.
“It isn’t just the bartender in me,” Iggy said. “I remember a foster home when I was…maybe nine? Eight? Something like that, and I’d go out with two other kids in the house to collect recyclables. Cans and bottles and scrap metal we could get a little money for, so we could buy bubble gum and comic books.” His gaze went distant, thoughtful. “I’d forgotten about that, actually.”
Malcolm ran his palm down Iggy’s upper arm to his elbow. “You told me once that you chose to forget a lot of your childhood, because it was safer that way.”
“I did. Guess that means I feel safe with you.”
“I’m glad. I want you to feel safe with me. I don’t wanna hurt you ever again, Iggs, not ever. Not hurt, not push, not scare, none of those things. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Malcolm’s. The kiss was brief but full of meaning, and it took all of Malcolm’s restraint not to topple Iggy onto his back and attack his mouth. Iggy might go with it in the moment, but Malcolm was positive he’d regret it afterward.
“I’d offer to go make us coffee, but I don’t know where Howie hides the machine,” Malcolm said after a few moments of comfortable silence.
Iggy wrinkled his nose. “He doesn’t have one. I found three jars of Sanka on a shelf, and since I already wanted to make a trip to Walmart for some cleaning supplies, I’m going to buy a small coffeepot. For now, you want to get dressed and go use the one Uncle Howie keeps in the saloon’s break room?”
“The saloon has a break room?”
Turned out, the staff’s break room and the green room where musical guests or other performers waited their turn, was one and the same. After they took turns showering, Iggy led him through the saloon’s back door. Going inside in the early morning, while everything around them was quiet, the town seemingly still asleep, felt as illicit as the one time they both sneaked in to steal booze.
The back door led into the building’s south side, past the office and straight into the kitchen area. They went out onto the dark main floor, which was eerie and echoed terribly when empty. Malcolm gazed around, eyes adjusting to light from the front windows and a few of the lit beer signs that never went off,amazed at how huge the space actually was. Upside-down stools lined the bar top.
Iggy led him down the length of the bar to a door on the far wall that Malcolm had gone through a handful of times, to access the utility rooms on the farthest side of the stage. This part of the building was like a rabbit warren, full of equipment, narrow passages, and miscellaneous wiring. He’d noticed the red door with the word Lounge painted in black, but he’d never been inside before. Iggy turned on an overhead florescent light, and Malcolm blinked against the intrusive glare.
The break/green room was maybe ten by twenty-five feet, with two makeup stations on one wall, a plush couch along another, and two sets of restaurant banquets. Plus, a small table with a coffeepot, an electric kettle, and a variety of drink condiments. The room even had a full-sized fridge next to a utility sink, which Iggy used to fill the coffee carafe with water.
“Why do I keep waiting for a burglar alarm to go off?” Malcolm asked.
“Because you’ve seen too many movies.” Iggy dug into a wooden cabinet by the table for the coffee and filters. “I’ve told Howie to invest in at least basic door alarms, but he insists that living behind the place scares off burglars. It’s not like anyone could make a fast getaway, anyhow, unless they jumped into a canoe and paddled downstream.”
“Good point.” Chance had its share of petty crimes and domestic disputes, like any small town, but folks tended to respect the businesses and business owners, and to look after their neighbors. Mostly.
Malcolm drifted to a wall near one of the mirrored makeup stations. It had once been painted white but was now covered in writing of all colors. Signatures and sayings and small sketches, many with dates that probably coincided with performances or line-dance calling gigs. History written all over the wall bythousands of hands, dating even further back than when Howie bought the place.
“Kinda too bad no one famous ever got their start here,” Malcolm said. “Would’ve been a cool selling point on social media.”
Iggy snorted. “One of these days, some idiot influencer is going to break their neck attempting the mechanical bull challenge for views.”
“Break their neck for views?”
“No, try the challenge for views.” He came up behind Malcolm and pinched his hip. “Dork. Thank God everyone signs a liability waiver before the settings go that high.”
“Yeah. After being rolled by a horse on accident, I can’t imagine wanting to be bucked off a bull on purpose, fake or not.”
“Hard same. I hate that thing.”
Malcolm turned to face Iggy, who had two foam cups in one hand, and the other hand planted firmly on one hip. “The mechanical bull? Why?”
“I’m honestly not sure. It’s a stupid, irrational fear. From the day I came here to live with Uncle Howie, the minute I saw that thing over in the corner, this hunk of metal and cowhide that looked like a rotting bull carcass…it freaked me out. Then my first day here cleaning tables before open? The fucking thing came to life.”
“It what?” Malcolm pulled Iggy over to the couch and sat them down. This was his first time hearing this story, and it deserved his full attention. “How did it come to life?”
Iggy leaned back into the saggy cushion and heaved a dramatic sigh. “You remember that scene inHome Alonewhen Kevin goes down into the basement, but he’s afraid of the furnace, and he imagines it coming to life and tormenting him?”
“Sure.” He’d just re-watchedHome Alonethis past Christmas with Melissa and the kids, because it was Nelo’s favorite movie.
“Well, I’m minding my own business, putting down chairs and scrubbing a table, when the fucking bull just roars to life, starts bucking all on its own. I swear, when I looked at it, its eyes were blazing red, and smoke was coming out of its nose area. I started screaming, threw my bottle of sanitizer at it, and ran straight to Howie’s office, a gibbering mess.”
