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April felt the intensity of his gaze working into her brain and took a sip of her orange juice.
“Everything okay?” asked Max.
“Is it that obvious?” She thought she had been holding it together pretty well until that point, but at that moment, she could feel all her suppressed emotions threatening to break through the surface.
“It’s just that you aren’t wearing your engagement ring today. I thought…”
He trailed off as a stifled sob escaped from her. Max lifted the hatch of the bar and moved to stand next to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. The feel of his touch only made the emotion harder to keep down and with nowhere else to hide her face, she pressed it against his chest and cried.
Once she had gained some composure, April pulled away from the comforting warmth radiating from his muscled chest. He smelled of oak barrels and musky cologne.
“I’m sorry,” said April. “I don’t normally cry on the shoulders of strangers.”
“I don’t normally get cried on,” said Max, smiling warmly. “But it looks like you needed it. You know, sometimes it’s easier to open up to a stranger. Do you want to talk about it?”
“That depends,” said April. “On whether or not I can get that drink after all.”
5
Once April had finished her story, she knocked back the remainder of her whiskey. It burned the back of her throat and broiled in her belly, but after a moment it softened to just a warm glow. Deep down she relished the thought of what Brian might say if he saw her drinking whiskey at nine-thirty with a handsome stranger, but then scolded herself for her pettiness.
She felt lighter already for having unloaded her troubles, but now she was eager to change the subject. “So what about you?” she asked Max.
“What about me?”
“Well, the way you stepped in and tied Brian into knots last night…what are you? Some kind of superhero or something?”
Max laughed. “No, it just comes with the territory. I spent a couple years in the Marine Corp before this. I can’t say it was time wasted. It comes in handy when you’re dealing with angry drunks on a regular basis.”
“So, what, you’re the manager here?”
“Owner,” said Max. “This and a couple other restaurants and clubs around the city. It pays a little better than the Navy. Also, as it turns out, I’m not too good with authority.”
“Impressive,” said April. “Well, I guess I better go, leave you to your duties. Thanks again for finding my wallet and sorry about getting your shirt wet.”
Max smiled. “Hey, no problem. Listen, I’m almost done why don’t you wait for me, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh, I parked at the gas station about two blocks from here, I was just about to run out of juice when I realized I had lost my wallet.”
“Then I’ll drive you to your car.” Max made a quick estimate of the remaining three bottles on his stock list and said to the cleaner, “Hey Gary, lock up when you’re done, okay? And don’t forget to set the alarm.”
“Will do, boss,” said Gary who had been polite enough to move to the other side of the club, out of earshot when she and Max had started talking.
April followed Max out the back entrance of Club Veil to where his black Range Rover was parked in an empty lot. “Some machine,” said April. “It looks like the kind the CIA drive in the movies.”
Max smiled proudly. “I fell in love with the model while I was working on a support mission for homeland security in South Sudan. We’d be crammed into the back of these open air trucks baking under the African sun, rattling around on dirt roads while the security fellows were cruising around with aircon and smooth suspension. I made it a promise to myself that I would own one one day.”
“A marine turned nightclub owner,” said April. “That’s quite a transition.”
“The business needs a few good men, ma’am,” he said and tipped her a salute. “That’s just a joke. Actually I prefer the word restaurateur. The nightclub scene is something I’m just starting out with. There are a lot of scumbags running clubs around here and any business I can take away from them is business well taken care of.”
April studied his face as they climbed into the Rover. His jaw was set and in it she sensed no hint of kidding. He was a man of humor and kindness, but there was also something else. A deep sense of justice and integrity.
“So maybe you are kind of a superhero after all,” said April, smiling at him as she settled into the seat.
Max laughed. “I like that,” he said. “You can call me Nightclubman. No wait, even better…Barman.”
Max’s presence was both comforting and exciting. He seemed like a man with a lot of stories to tell. She felt a wave of regret at not being able to stay with him for the morning and listen to them. To take her mind off things.
