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“Okay fine, how about I’d like to spend time with my friend outside these walls? It’s been at least six months since I’ve coaxed you into an evening out. Meg’s already given me a hall pass until 10, so come on. Help a guy out.”
Adam’s hangdog expression had me laughing. “The pouting thing may work on Meg, but it won’t work on me, buddy,” I chastised, herding him out of my office.
Adam slung an arm around my shoulders and made kissy faces. “You know it works on you too.”
I grunted a monosyllabic response and pushed him away good-naturedly.
Adam laughed, pleased with himself as the two of us walked the two blocks to Sweet Lila’s, the only decent watering hole in town.
As usual, the place was busy. It had recently undergone new management and you could tell. Sweet Lila’s had always been a decent place, characterized by its old-world charm. Lila had modeled it after an old English pub, but the interior hadn’t aged well. One could forgive the less than appealing interior because the cocktails were decently priced, and the food was palatable.
When Lila decided to sell the bar that she had been running for the past forty years and move to Florida, I handled the transaction and title work. I hadn’t been the only one surprised when Brad Sawyer, the bartender, had ponied up the cash. He and his recently paroled brother, Sebastian had decided to pitch in and buy the place. Everyone in town had figured the brothers would run the place into the ground. After all, what could a college dropout and his ex-convict brother know about running a business?
The two had proven every single person wrong—and I, for one, was glad to see it. I liked Brad. He was a hard-working guy and Seb, his brother, while the scary silent type, was cut from the same cloth. They had turned the tired, worn Sweet Lila’s into a modern sports bar that had definite upmarket appeal. It was clean and brightly lit with flat screens on the wall and local microbrews on tap. The food had even gotten an upgrade thanks to the new chef they hired from Pittsburgh, who turned standard bar food into a classy affair. Even though you could still find wings and burgers on the menu, they were interspersed with tastier stuff if you were wanting a nice evening out.
And the citizens of Southport had rewarded the local boys by happily frequenting the newly renovated bar in droves.
Brad, the new owner, was behind the bar when we arrived. He waved in our direction and indicated a free booth in the back. There were definite perks to being the law firm responsible for most of the real estate transactions in Southport—you were everyone’s best friend.
Adam pulled out his phone once we were seated and tapped out a message. “Meg says hello. She’s putting Tyler to bed. I want to make sure I get to say goodnight before he goes down.” I waited while he spoke to his son. His entire demeanor changed when he talked to Tyler. His voice became softer, and he said things like “Daddy says goodnight to Billy the Brontosaurus too.”
I usually felt out of place when Adam and Jeremy started talking about wives and kids. What could a perpetually single guy offer to the conversation?
A woman appeared by our table wearing a Sweet Lila’s t-shirt tied into a knot at her waist, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. She put a hand on her hip and gave us a saucy smile that let us know she was very aware of how hot she was.
“Now what can I get two fine-looking men to drink?” She gave us a wink and Adam chuckled, shaking his head.
“I didn’t know you worked here, Hannah?”
Hannah, Lena’s friend, gave a dainty shrug. “Teachers are paid peanuts and I’m saving up for a fabulous all-inclusive vacation to Belize. Brad hired me part-time now that their business has picked up. The man could use the help.” She glanced over her shoulder at the heaving bar and the harried man behind it. I noticed the way her eyes lingered for a moment before quickly looking away.
“It’s a double bonus that I get to see such handsome faces and get paid for it.” She widened her eyes in my direction. Hannah was a huge flirt—to the point that it left me feeling more than a little awkward. She was like the female equivalent of Jeremy during his manwhore days. I had been on the receiving end of her attention on many occasions, though I never could tell if she meant the outlandish stuff that came out of her mouth, or if she was saying it for shock value.
“Two beers, whatever’s the hoppiest,” I interjected, cutting Hannah off at the pass. I wasn’t really in the mood to fend off her flirty banter.
