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“I have a question,” Sam asked with a stern glint. “How come you’ve worked years in a pub yet still, you can’t handle a few glasses of wine?” He chuckled through the end of his sentence.
Okay, I deserved that. This was his backfire. “Hey, I’m older now. I can’t even stand on my two feet for a whole hour nowadays.”
“Is this you hinting for me to pick up again?”
I elbowed him casually at his ribs. “Oh, shut up and keep that a secret too, will you?”
“Too? You didn’t tell me any other secrets.”
I gulped the sip that I had just taken from my drink. Shrugged a small shoulder. “I never told anyone I worked atthatclub. Not even Joe.”
“Why not?”
“Probably not to feel ashamed.”
“Or you didn’t tell Joe because it’sJoe. He wouldn’t have reacted as laid-back as I did. I know he could be a real snob sometimes.”
“When I met Joe, I was still kind of… rough. I had a swagger, cursed like a pirate. He always assumed it was because a single father raised me so I never corrected him. But he did help me become more lady-like. Forced me to keep a swear jar and took me on frequent shopping trips to revamp my wardrobe.”
“Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.”
I had no doubt about that. The more time I spent with Sam, the more I trusted him and the more I liked being around him.
“Let’s call a truce,” I suggested. “I’ll make you one mean cocktail and we’ll forget that wine fiasco ever happened.”
“Make it with whiskey and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
The one whiskey cocktail that came to mind was the Boulevardier – whiskey, sweet vermouth and bitter aperitif. A rich, smooth drink that I was sure Sam would like.
“Okay, so we’ve got the bar, we got the bartender, the cocktails but we’re missing some music.” Sam stood from his stool. “Any particular song requests?”
“I can listen to anything.”
“Great. I’ll hit the ‘surprise me’ button on the music app then.”
While Sam went to the speaker next to the TV to plug his phone, I started working on his drink. This time, did my best to mix the perfect cocktail. Even used a shot glass to measure precise parts of each ingredient.
Guitar chords began to sound from the speakers around the floor. I recognize it from the first two notes. The distinct guitar intro of Hotel California by Eagles.
“Oh, man. Is it nostalgia night tonight? First the pub and now this. This song was a favourite at Ben’s pub. We had this old stereo system – old enough that it only played cassette tapes – I must have pressed the rewind and play buttons a million times for this song.”
I can’t help but bob my head to the beat and hum to the tune. Wow, this reminiscing was definitely an unexpected turn to this friendly dinner. Made it even more… cosy.
Sam returned to the bar. “Want to dance? We got the dance floor too.”
“Dance? How do you dance to this song? Besides, if I’m at a pub and not working there, I’ll be the one sitting on the stools while everyone else dances. I don’t dance.”
“Now that’s surprising. And since we’re being all honest, I’d tell you I was hoping you’d decline my invitation. If I’m at a bar, I’ll be the one who will steal your stool if you dare move away. I don’t dance either.”
Samuel Webb couldn’t dance? Impossible. The man could do anything.
“Here.” I served the finished drink on the bar for him.
Sam picked up the glass and smelled the contents. “Hmm. Bourbon.” Then he tasted it. This time, his eyes closed to relish the taste.
Grabbing the Old Russian cocktail, I went around the bar beside him. “Did I earn plus points now?”
He nodded. “Double. Although I’m sure with my cooking, I’ve earned more.”
