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“An Irish bar? I should have guessed,” I said.
“Am I getting predictable?”
“No. Not in the least. I was actually thinking we were going to some Indian joint or a steakhouse with white tablecloths and waiters named Reginald.”
“Reginald, huh? I’ll have to remember that,” Mac said as he opened up the door.
I walked in to see a long bar in the middle of the room with barstools lined all along it. There were a few tables scattered around the room with the wall holding a long table that was attached to the wall with barstools underneath it. The place was busy with almost every table filled and there was a man standing on the stage in the back of the bar.
Mac stood right behind me, letting me take everything in. He was standing so close that I could feel his breath on my shoulders, and it caused a chill to run down my spine.
“I forgot it was quiz night. Let’s go grab some seats at the bar,” he said into my ear.
Mac reached down and took my hand and guided me to the bar. As he did the man behind it perked up and lifted his hands in the air greeting us with a huge smile on his face. Mac walked up to him and leaned into the bar so that the two could embrace.
“Good to see you, brother,” the bartender said as they hugged.
“You too, Matt,” Mac said.
They stepped away from each other and Matt eyed me and then Mac. “Who is this gorgeous creature you’ve brought with you? Please, tell me it’s a long-lost sister,” Matt said.
“Ha. No. One sister is more than enough. This is Hope,” Mac said.
Mac didn’t say Hope, my friend, or Hope, my girlfriend, and I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. Though maybe he was just introducing me as a person, not someone who needed to be labeled as anything.
“Hope. Nice to meet you. Matt. What can I get you?”
“A Stella if you have it,” I said as I sat down.
“This is an Irish bar, of course, we have Stella. You’re usual?” Matt asked Mac.
“Please,” Mac said.
Matt nodded and walked off to fill our order.
“Brother?” I teased Mac.
“Matt calls everyone brother. I think that’s what he says when he can’t remember someone's name.”
“I don’t think he would hug someone the way he did you, if he couldn’t remember their name,” I countered.
“You got me. I’ve been coming here for a few years, especially during quiz night or when The Raging Drunks play.”
“The Raging Drunks? That’s the name of a band?” I asked, laughing.
“It seemed the most appropriate name for them all things considered.”
“Are they all raging drunks?”
“They were. I think they might have mellowed with old age. They still can put on a good show and draw a large crowd.”
“I would love to see them play sometime.”
Mac smiled at me and looked like he was going to say something more when a tall, burly, bald man came up and slapped Mac on the shoulder.
“Where the hell have you been hiding yourself, son?” the man asked.
Or at least that was what I thought he said, his accent was so thick it was hard to understand him.
