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Nine Lives Club Rule #11

“Every cat has a history. Every cat lover, too.”

1

Lynne (Now)

By the time Leo March swaggered into her bar in a holographic jumpsuit, Lynne O’Donnell was already over it. She didn’t believe in curses. But Leo showing up every Halloween was the closest thing she’d ever had to one.

The bell over the door barely rang above the noise. On a night like tonight, O’Donnell’s was packed with every adult in Autumn Ridge who didn’t want to pass out candy on Halloween. Lynne couldn’t help but notice, while the faces changed, it was always the same cast of characters—witches and devils and whatever pop culture served that year, inflatable T-Rexes and slutty everything. Except Leo. From the moment he started celebrating his birthdays at O’Donnell’s, he’d always managed to be the center of attention with something unique.

Leo’s disco suit caught the dim lights as he dragged Ethan and Cali—two of their friends from book club and the most in-love couple Lynne knew—through the crowd to sit at the bar. Ethan was dressed like Bob Ross with a halo of brown curls, pasted-on beard that kept falling off on one side, and a paintbrush in his hand. Cali was dressed as one of his “happy little trees,” with a crown of autumn-colored maple leaves around her face and a dress with a hand-stitched squirrel in a hollow across her stomach. She’d probably made the dress herself. She had a knack for that sort of thing.

Lynne wished she could say the couple was as eye-catching as Leo. But those chocolate-brown eyes, that scruffy, devilish grin and the gut-punching dimples that framed it already threatened to undo every woman at her bar. Like always. And the deep “V” of skin that plunged to his belly button, making it so everyone could count the packs in his six-pack, didn’t help either.

Lynne noted his entrance but rolled her eyes. Like always. Someone had to humble the guy. Everyone else was staring as he pulled up two bar stools for Cali and Ethan and found himself a third.

“You got this one, boss?” Ruby said with a wink, as she refilled two draft beers. “Or need a break?”

She knew the answer already. “I’ve got him, Ruby. And stop looking at me like that.” Ruby’s maroon lipstick pulled up at the corner into a smirk.

Lynne sauntered over to Leo. “The usual?” she asked him. “Birthday boy special?”

He smiled. “You know me too well.”

“And sometimes I really wish I didn’t.”

She let her stare trace down his exposed abdomen and back up to his eyes, like she was judging him for his costume choice. Poker face. No smile. But inside, her breath hitched a little. She could tell he was enjoying every second her eyes were on him, and she hated it. Hated that her body still hadn’t gotten the memo she was done with him. This was the one night each year she was at his mercy.

Cali chortled, and Lynne turned to her and Ethan. “What about you two? Drinks? Food?”

“I’m DD for us tonight,” Ethan said. “So just soda water for me. Keep ‘em coming.”

“Bitters and a squeeze of citrus with that water?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I’ve honestly never tried it that way. But sure.”

“You won’t regret it. And you, Cali?”

Cali scrunched her nose behind her glasses as she thought. “Do you have anything special for Halloween?”

“Of course,” Lynne said. “I can make you a spiced cider mule, a caramel apple martini, a lavender gin sour, a—”

“Ohh, that! And some chips, please.”

Lynne nodded and wiped the counter between them. “Good choice. Very spooky. It practically glows neon purple. I think you’ll love it.”

She turned, then she heard Leo’s voice calling after her. “Oh, and Lynne? You know which kind of cherries I like in my old fashioned, right?”

She offered a pained smile as she glanced back over her shoulder at Leo. “How could I forget? Every kid deserves candy on Halloween, especially if it’s their birthday,” she taunted.

Leo’s eyes glinted at her as the jukebox switched to “Thriller” again. At least once every hour until close someone was going to play “Thriller.” She cringed at the thought. Halloween at O’Donnell’s always felt like three nights crammed into one.

With a harrumph, she disappeared into the storage room. On an eye-level shelf were the jars of Amarena cherries with their deep, rich color and a single jar of maraschino cherries beside them. The bottle top was covered in dust. Lynne wiped it clean on her jeans and grabbed a puffy blue bow from a bag she kept near the cherries, then stuck the bow on top. To her it looked like a jar of bright red cough syrup. She’d have banned them from the bar—from Autumn Ridge entirely—if it weren’t for Leo. But this was the running gag, and each year she played along. One cute, presentable jar of maraschinos for his birthday, then free-and-clear of the disgusting things the rest of the year.

She made their drinks and plopped the jar of cherries onto the countertop beside Leo’s old fashioned. “Happy birthday,” she said dryly. “You know those things are basically bleached and dyed bright red again, right?”

Leo cracked open the jar and popped one into his mouth, stem and all. He chewed like he had something to prove. “And they’re delicious,” he said, mouth still full. He dropped two more into his old fashioned, and Lynne winced as the bright red syrup flooded the glass. “Thanks, Lynne.” He took a swig of the cocktail. “And thanks for bidding on me at the Nine Lives Club auction against Mrs. McAllister.”