Shake Me Up

Chapter 1

“Hey, I’ll have another one,” a kid, wearing a Dickinson College sweatshirt and barely old enough to drink, said from his stool at the bar. The only reason Ronny Ledbetter knew he was legal was because he’d checked his ID—twice—just to be sure. Ronny got him another beer, wondering where these kids learned how to behave. Some of them acted like all they watched were spaghetti westerns. “Thanks,” the kid added in a show of manners before turning to the guy next to him.

Ronny nodded and went back to loading the washer with the ton of glasses that were coming back. The place was hopping tonight for some reason. Not that Ronny wasn’t grateful. Business being good meant he wasn’t going to have to worry about making ends meet, and he might be able to take a day or two off. He filled a few more orders, pulled glasses out of the machine, loaded it again, and took payment for outstanding tabs, all within the span of a few minutes.

“You need to get yourself some help, Ronny. You’re making me tired just watching you,” Ashley said from the very end of the bar, where he and his wife, Megan, sat having their usuals—Megan a white wine and Ashley a Moscow Mule. They were an interesting couple. She was an engineer, and Ashley drove big rigs in the area. Both were outgoing, great people, always ready with a quick smile when he needed one.

“It’s been busy all night,” Ronny told him, putting the glasses away during a break in the action. He was finally catching up. The crack of pool balls caught his attention as a group of guys took over one of the tables in the back and started a game. “Not that I’m complaining.” His father had opened this place as a local hangout thirty years ago, and The Gingerbread had gone through a number of ups and downs. The interior woodwork was all very darkly finished, almost black, with a heavily carved bar and decorations and a few stained-glass windows. When he inherited it, the place seemed run-down everywhere he looked. Parts of the ornate exterior had rotted away, and the inside still carried the scent of cigarettes years after smoking had been banned.

“The place is looking good,” Ashley told him. “Did you paint?”

Ronny nodded. “Yeah. I have just the back area to do.” The Gingerbread was closed on Mondays, so once a week for the last year, he’d spent the day cleaning all the woodwork, getting years of grime and tobacco off of all of it. Then he’d repaired the exterior, and now, finally, he was nearly done painting the inside. Next, he planned to renovate the bathrooms.

“I really like it.”

He leaned over the bar. “So do the others. I haven’t had a Wednesday this busy that I can ever remember.” The bar had been hopping, and the kitchen had been busy too. His menu was pretty basic American food, but he made sure that what came out of his kitchen was quality. People weren’t going to come back if he served food that wasn’t good, no matter how many coats of paint he added to the place. “The college students have always come here to a degree, but they seem to be telling their friends.”

“That’s great.”

“Game nights are even busier,” Ronny added. He’d replaced the old televisions with bigger, brighter ones, and that helped pack the place on game nights. “But it’s hard getting staff.”

“I suppose,” Ashley said.

Ronny held up a finger before going to the other end of the bar, where he refilled drinks and closed out a couple of tabs. He thanked them and watched as a pair of college kids left, only to be replaced by more who were coming in. He took orders and got them entered in the system before checking on the rest of the folks at the bar, then returned to Ashley and Megan. “I had employees stealing from me. I caught them and got the money back, or else I’d have jailed their asses, but still.” He sighed.

“I wish I knew someone to steer your way,” Megan said, turning to Ashley, the two of them not saying a thing, but Ronny knew they were communicating anyway. It was like they shared a mind.

“Are you really looking for someone?” a voice asked from behind him.

Ronny turned to a seat that had just filled. The kid looked about eighteen, but handed over his ID without hesitation when Ronny asked. Arden Thatcher, he read, then scanned it, and the ID came back authentic.

“I got experience,” the kid—Arden—said, flashing a bright, if crooked-toothed, smile. “My father has a bar back home, and I’ve helped out since I was eighteen.”

Ronny checked the ID once more. The kid was twenty-two, but he barely looked old enough to drive… or maybe Ronny was just feeling like an old man at thirty. “You really interested?” Ronny asked. He was getting too damned tired and desperately needed some help. Maybe if he could get someone he could trust, he could have a few hours away from this place. When the kid nodded, Ronny got an application and handed it over. His friend next to him asked for one as well, and Ronny got one for him too. “Do you have experience in a bar?”

“Lots. I’m a good drinker,” the friend answered, like he was being funny.

Ronny smiled and returned to work, making a note to file that application with the others he had no intention of following up on.

Over the next hour, he was run off his feet. A table tried to skip out without paying—no way in hell, not in his place. And he had to break up a fight by the pool tables. Ronny was a big guy, and he hauled both men out of the bar after making them settle their tabs and ensuring Mark and Rachel, the servers, got their tips before he let them go sleep it off.

By the time he returned to the bar, Ronny had a ton of glasses to take care of, so he started right in and settled more tabs on top of it. Thankfully, the place began emptying out at about eleven and was almost a tomb just before midnight. On the weekends they closed at two, but during the week, official closing was midnight, and he was pleased he didn’t need to hustle anyone out tonight. He settled the last checks and said good night to his final patrons before locking the doors with a deep sigh. Then he got to work once more, doing the last of the cleaning and restocking the coolers before taking the evening’s money to the office, where he prepped the night’s deposit and locked it in the safe.

“Ronny,” Jake, his head cook, said from the doorway. “I think we got an issue.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’m hearing a lot of noise out by the dumpsters. I sent all the others home and was about to leave….”

Ronny closed up the office. “Let’s go take a look.” Anyone causing trouble was going to think twice before taking on two guys.

They went through the kitchen and then to the back door, letting it swing open with a bang.

“What are you doing?” Ronny boomed out into the alleyway. He listened and didn’t hear a thing. It was quiet—almost too quiet. He stepped out and looked around, checking the dumpsters, which were closed. He lifted the lid and let it bang shut once again. Whoever had been out here was gone now. “Go on home. I’ll lock up and head out myself.” He waited as Jake hurried across to the parking lot and got into his car. Then Ronny closed the door and locked it tightly from the inside.

Ronny shut off the lights as he went, leaving on a few in the main bar room. Then he went out the main door, double locking it before striding to his car.

A sound from the corner of the building pulled his attention just as a figure hurried away down the alley and into the night, holding something close. He couldn’t see what it was—the figure disappeared quickly—and Ronny was too tired to chase them down. Besides, they were gone, so he got in the car and drove home to the house on the south side of town where he’d grown up.

Pulling into the drive, he got out and closed the car door, listening for the familiar late-night sound of the stream at the end of the property, the water gurgling as it ran over the shallow rocks that covered the bottom. He stood still for a few seconds, letting the sound soothe him, before going inside, where he undressed and showered before falling into bed. He tossed and turned for a while, telling himself he needed to get some help or else he was going to run himself completely out. Finally, he settled into a deep sleep.

His phone woke him a little before six, and he grabbed it before answering. “Yeah?”

“Ronny, this is Yeardley, your tenant above The Gingerbread. There are lights, police cars, and firetrucks all over down here. You might want to come down and see what’s going on.”

“I will. You get out of the building just in case.” His heart raced as he pulled on fresh clothes, dashed out of the house, and jumped into his car. It took him less than five minutes to reach the bar, where he parked along Pomfret and hurried up to the cordon. “I’m Ronny Ledbetter, and I own The Gingerbread. What’s going on?”

The police officer turned around, and Ronny recognized him right away.

“Carter.”

“Hey, Ronny. It seems someone set fire to one of the dumpsters. The call came in about twenty minutes ago. The fire department was able to put it out quickly, and there doesn’t seem to be any real damage to the building. It’s mostly soot, which washed off.”

“That’s good.” He had already spent enough money fixing up the outside, and he didn’t relish having to do it again, though from what he could see, he was going to need to freshen up the paint in that area. But that seemed to be all. “Any idea what caused it?”

One of the firefighters joined them. “Everything is out. It looked like there were papers and cardboard that got set alight. It didn’t get very far because a lot of the other debris was wet, so there was a lot of smoke, but not much else. There doesn’t seem to be an accelerant, but we’re testing just to be sure.”

“So maybe a cigarette from someone passing by?” he offered, and Carter as well as the firefighter shrugged. Great, it seemed no one had any answers.

“We are aware that this area, particularly parts of the parking structure, is used by people as shelter, particularly during inclement weather,” Carter offered.

Ronny shook his head. “I haven’t seen any evidence of that lately. And last spring, when I did see the family who was here for a few days, I made sure they had food.” He’d be damned if he was going to let young kids go hungry if he could help it. “Folks like that don’t want to draw attention to themselves, so I don’t think that’s the answer.”

“No accelerants,” one of the other firemen said. At least someone wasn’t trying to burn him out. Or if they were, they weren’t very smart about it.

“Okay. Let’s get everything cleared up and put away.” The firefighter got the rest of the team back to work.

“Last night when I was closing up, I saw someone. They may have been coming from the dumpsters. I’m not sure. They were carrying something and heading down that way. I didn’t get a good look. That was hours ago, and I don’t think it has anything to do with this, but I thought I’d let you know.”

Carter made a note. “We’ve had a number of restaurants reporting cases of dumpster diving. There are folks without enough to eat, and when you’re hungry, you’ll do what you have to in order to survive.” Ronny understood that. He’d seen that kind of desperation more than once in his life. “I don’t know how much more we’re going to get, but keep an eye out. You might think about putting a camera up on the building. It’s not likely that anyone will be able to mess with them up there, and if something happens again, we’ll have more to go on.”

“I’ll do that.” Ronny shook Carter’s hand. Then he found Yeardley just around the corner, with a robe clutched firmly around her. “It’s okay. It seems it was more smoke than anything. If there is any damage inside, let me know, and I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”

“Everything is fine. I just wanted you to know what’s was going on.” She didn’t seem nervous or upset. “I was wondering…. They cut my hours over at the warehouse. Things are slow right now.”

“Do you want some hours at the bar?” he asked.

Yeardley smiled brightly. “Yes. I have done server work before, so I know the job. Do you need someone?”

“I do. Come in sometime today if you want. We can get you trained when it isn’t too busy, and you can work Friday and Saturday evenings. Does that work?” That would be a big help. After this, he had thought he might lose her as a tenant, but instead he was gaining a server.

“It will be perfect. They cut my Saturday hours, and I’ll have Sunday off from both jobs.” She seemed pleased. “I’ll stop in after I get off shift on Tuesday.” And with a smile, she went inside.

Ronny went to unlock the bar. He didn’t open until eleven, so he checked his list of projects, figuring he’d knock off another of them while he was here. There was always plenty of cleaning to do, but with this amount of time, he set up the ladder and got the paint and brush to spend a few hours finishing the repainting of the areas in back just below the ceiling, noting a few spots he had missed earlier. There was always more to be done.

Once he had finished that area and another that desperately needed freshening up, he put everything away, pleased with how it looked. He made his rounds, checking out the kitchen and cold storage to make sure everything was as it should be. Then, before the other staff arrived, he made his trip to the bank just around the corner.

With the previous day’s take safely deposited, he got the tills ready and opened the door, finding the young man from the night before as his first customer.

“Did you have a chance to look over my application? I wasn’t kidding when I said I knew how to work behind a bar.”

“All right,” Ronny said. “I want you to make me a Sazerac.” He sat down and waited while the kid stepped behind the bar. “I want you to take your time. I know you aren’t aware of where things are. Just make sure you get the right ingredients.”

“Okay.” He pulled open the chiller and got a rocks glass. “You start with absinthe.” He located the bottle and put a little in the bottom of the glass, then turned the glass to coat it and set it aside. In a tall glass, he added simple syrup, some bitters, and then paused. “I know that whiskey is the modern version, but cognac was originally used. Which do you prefer?”

Ronny settled back. “Rye is fine.” He smiled to himself as the kid added the rye and some ice and stirred the drink before using a strainer to pour it into the rocks glass.

“I’d add a lemon peel garnish, but I don’t know where those are,” he said, placing the drink in front of him.

Ronny took a sip and smiled. “Okay. That’s perfect.” He excused himself, went in back, got the application he’d set aside, and returned, sitting at one of the nearby tables. “Arden,” he said. “You said your family had a bar.”

“Yes. Up in Sunbury. I’ve worked there since I was eighteen. Mostly we sold beer and stuff. But I convinced my dad to try out specialty cocktails to liven things up. We’d have an old-fashioned night, or a Manhattan night. Cosmo night was always popular. It broke things up and brought in different customers.” He sounded like he might know what he was doing, but Arden looked so damned young, and that worried Ronny.

“Why aren’t you still there? Are you going to school here?” He was cute and had these huge blue eyes. The customers were going to love him. Ronny let his mind wander for a few seconds and then pushed away any thoughts of attraction. That was a nonstarter as far as he was concerned—a surefire way to mess up his personal and work life. Never again.

Arden shook his head. “I’m staying with my aunt and uncle. My dad found out that I had a boyfriend, and he… let’s just say that he didn’t want me around after that. Dad is one of those people who serves alcohol to anyone who wants it during the week, but on Sunday, he’s the first one to decry the wages of sin. And apparently that’s me.”

Ronny nodded. “I understand.” His own father had not judged. That wasn’t the kind of person he was. But Ronny was a bartender, and he’d heard plenty of stories across the bar over the years. Very little shocked him any longer. “What about your aunt and uncle? Do they feel any differently?”

“My aunt Louise is really nice. She’s my mom’s sister and thinks my father is an ass. My uncle is a bit of a dick. I live in the small back-alley apartment that used to be the garage. I have a place to live, but I have to take care of myself otherwise. My uncle insists that he isn’t going to go to any expense for me. At least the old skinflint doesn’t charge me rent, but I have to pay a portion of the utilities. So I need a job.” The yearning in his eyes tinged with desperation had Ronny sighing to himself.

“Okay. I’ll give you a chance.” He slipped off the stool as the first customers of the day came in. “Wait here until I can get you the forms you need to fill out.” He hurried away as people got seated. He returned to the front only to find that Arden had grabbed menus and had passed them out at each table before taking drink orders and bringing them to him at the bar.

Okay, maybe this had a chance of working out after all.