6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Mims didn’t roll out of bed before eleven, ever. It was later on the weekends, when he worked and inevitably went on a date once the bar closed at two.
Murphy sent a message to call when he was up, and sure enough, it was eleven-thirty before the phone rang. “Mims, I need you downstairs in the computer room.”
“Now? Before coffee?”
Murphy shook his head as he laughed. “Grab a coffee and head down. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
“Fine. I won’t be showered so if I stink I don’t want to hear one complaint!”
“Lord,” he said as he ended the call. “Fucking princess.”
He kissed his sister as she entered the kitchen with bags in her hand. “What did you buy now?”
“Don’t bitch. I was going to the mall and Eazy wanted me to get the kids some light jackets and galoshes. Theirs are too small. You realize your children grow an inch every three minutes, right?”
“Duh.”
“Then stop bitching when they get new clothes.”
Murphy thought for a moment to take Tally to each of the kids’ rooms and show her the overly full closets and dressers, but he knew that would be fruitless. “Fine, whatever. Do you want to come down with me and find out about your pet project?”
“My pet project?”
His sister was so…classy. He had no clue how they were raised in the same home. Unable to count the times he got scathing looks from Eazy as he farted in front of the kids, Murphy just knew either he or his sister were switched at birth.
Getting her goat was his favorite pastime, however. “Your little Irish lad, the same one Dad is already fawning over for being fucking Irish.”
“Oh! Liam, sorry, Cosmo. He’s a sweet kid under all that damage.”
“How do you know there is damage? Because he was in prison? Lots of guys from happy homes are in there because of their own choices.”
Tally rolled her eyes and goaded him right back, “So you’re only after him for his special skills? You don’t find him endearing in the least?”
“Shut up. Are you coming or not?”
“Of course I am.”
After she placed the bags in the kids’ rooms, she and Murphy walked down the three flights of stairs to the basement, where Mims was surprisingly waiting. “I grabbed a coffee from the place across the street. Where have you been?”
“Mims, I’ll—”
Mims had the cutest little giggle, and he used it then to quell Murphy’s ire. “Sorry, Paps.”
“Open the damn door, and Tally, can you lock up in case Liam…fuck! Cosmo, if Cosmo comes down.”
“Yes, big brother.”
Mims went to the bookcase and pulled out The Fall of the House of Usher. Behind that classic novel was a small button that, when pressed, opened the door the bookcase really was and allowed it to swing open for them.
After the three of them walked through, Tally pushed the button inside the door for it to close and once they were secure, Murphy let his eyes scan the room.
Only the adults in the family and the current bartenders knew about these rooms. There were two, one a meeting room with white boards, chalkboards, tablets, and a table with ten chairs.
The other room was all about the computers and the huge monitor they had on the wall, so everyone could view what they needed to see.
Mims was their computer wizard. He could do just about anything, and had in the past, only once getting caught and doing a short stint in prison for internet scams.
He got behind the keyboard at the long table that served as a computer desk and started logging into the thing. He had ways of doing shit that Murphy would never understand, but he figured that was why he’d hired the best.
“Okay, what are we looking for?”
Tally stepped over and sat in the metal chair near him. “I know it seems terrible, but we need to know about Cosmo. Everything about his past.”
“Do you think this is the first time I’ve done this, Mama?”
Murphy hid a smile by turning to the opposite wall.
“I know, honey, but I don’t enjoy having to do this, and I know you don’t. Not really. You only like stretching your brain muscles.”
“Well, he’s living with us, working with us. I suspect if he’s not a good guy, we’d want to know, right?”
“Right,” she said as Murphy turned back and saw Tally’s hand laying over Mims’s arm.
Mims started, his fingers moving like lightning. Murphy had seen no one, ever, type so quickly.
Tally glanced over, giving him that motherly smile. It was no wonder they’d asked her to carry their children. She was a mother to all she knew.
“Okay, I’m into the site. What’s his full name and all that?”
Murphy spoke then. “Liam Lee MacManus, born July seventh, two thousand three in Adam’s County General Hospital.”
“Parents?”
“That’s one thing we need to know. We have no idea.”
“Gotcha.”
More lightning typing, more chewing his cheek until he came up with some answers. “He was eight when he lost his mother. She has an obit here, but it’s really short. It tells the date of her death and when she was being cremated and buried. I didn’t know they buried ashes,” he commented as he read. “He was twelve when he did his first stint in juvie for tagging the side of a building, but…this is weird. He was already in a foster home.”
Tally asked, “Where was his father? He didn’t lose both, did he?”
“I haven’t found an obituary for him. This may take a while. Juvenile records, you guys know, are a tough nut to crack.”
Murphy had to open the bar, so he ducked out after telling Mims to do whatever he had to. They had to know the entire story about the guy he was letting live amongst his family. All his family, from his husband and kids, to his surrogate kids, all using nicknames he’d given them.
It was less than busy on that Friday morning, but that would change by the time night dropped. People started flooding the place as soon as the world darkened.
Murphy’s primary job on Fridays was to get ready for the evening. He made sure all the bottles were full, or had a spare behind them, sent Eazy or one of the guys out for plenty of change for those that still used cash. The paper for the receipts was stocked, and spares were in the drawer below.
After cutting fruit and vegetables for the drink garnishes and ingredients, he cleaned, made sure all the glasses were ready to go. They lined up beautifully under the top shelf bottles. Then he cleaned the spouts for the tops of the bottles, and did a hundred things on his checklist before even the first customer, Joe Brody, walked through the door, complaining, “It’s hot as ball sweat out there.”
“Global warming, Joe,” he called as he poured the man’s dark Irish beer.
“That’s bull crap straight from those goddamned liberals.”
“Sure thing, Joe. That’s why it’s as hot in October as it was in July. The liberals.”
Grumbling a little, the first thing Murphy could make out was Joe asking about Mick. “Where’s that Paddy McFucker, Mick?”
“He’ll be down soon.”
“Give me some of them peanuts.”
Joe was one that would eat five bowls. He ate them to save money for beer. Lunch and sometimes dinner were peanuts, so he could spend more on drinking. No wonder he was alone. “Sure thing, Joe.”
After setting the wooden bowl on the bar, he left Joe to finish his checklist. It seemed everything was set for the busy night, but that was when Cosmo walked in from the back. “Murphy, hey, I came to practice a little.”
“Good for you. You getting the hang of the recipes?”
“Yeah, a little. Goldie told me what was ordered the most, so I memorized them.”
“Good! That’s more than any of the rest of them did, right off.”
Cosmo stared at the floor, staring at it while he fidgeted. “They really throw the bottles around every night?”
After Murphy chuckled, he slung an arm around Cosmo’s muscled shoulders, leading him behind the long bar. “Yeah, but not exactly. Goldie and Haze can toss, gently toss, the bottles back and forth to each other from either end of the bar. Abs and Mims do it but a little closer together. They’re like circus performers, but you don’t have to worry about doing that right away.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that, but how long did it take the other guys?”
“Let’s just say, not overnight. I promise.”
After letting go of Cosmo, Murphy grabbed an empty bottle from under the bar where the empties were kept. He handed it to Cosmo and said, “Flip it end over end and catch the neck.”
That was an easy one. Just about anyone could flip it once, and with the crotchety old Joe watching, they both witnessed him flipping the bottle and easily catching it. “In the recycling can right over there are all the tops. Find one that fits that whiskey bottle. I think they’re all black for these. Fill it with water and get the top on nice and tight. Go out back, into the alley. No one goes down that alley except for the distributors for the food and booze. Take a broom with you, because you will eventually drop the bottle. Sweep up all the glass when you do but practice. Over and over, flip it, catch it, toss it in the air, catch it that way. Then tonight, you’ll be working with the others, and you’ll see what they do.” He leaned in, whispering, “Hippy holds the record for breaking bottles back there. It took him twenty before he stopped. The sweeping helps deter you from letting the thing slip out of your fingers.”
For once, he got a beautiful, if a little reluctant, smile from the sweet-faced young man. “Got it. Thanks, Murphy.”
“Then catch a nap. It’s a lot of work, whether or not it seems like it.”
“I’m not much of a napper. In fact, sleep and I don’t get along that great,” he said, then took the capped bottle of water and left to head to the back.
Murphy watched him, ready to pick up the phone and call Tally before he remembered cell phones didn’t work so well in the basement.
“Another Murphy, and call that dad of yours, will ya?”
“Sure, Joe, on both counts,” he said, shaking the thoughts of Cosmo out of his head for the moment. After pouring the second beer and taking the sweaty money from Joe’s hand, he gave Mick a call and had him come to the bar.
Just then, Cosmo came in, glowing. “I did it!”
“The same one?”
Cosmo proudly held up the same bottle he’d taken outside with him. “Didn’t drop it once.”
Murphy spread his arms on the bar, leaning on them while grinning happily at his new bartender. “You’re a natural.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Almost lost it a couple times, but I’ve got this part down, and some of the drinks. I might not totally suck.”
Joe barked a laugh and said, “You’re one of ‘em, ain’t ya?”
“Joe, I swear, I’m two seconds from throwing your wrinkled ass out of here.”
Again mumbling under his breath, Joe went back to his beer.
Murphy jerked his chin to the end of the bar, and Cosmo came around to join him after throwing a nasty look Joe’s way. Murphy confided in a whisper, “He’s one of my dad’s best friends or he wouldn’t be here. He starts with any racist or homophobic shit on your shifts, then throw his ass out.”
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
“I’m sure you have.”
Murphy showed him some tricks and tips, working over the register and showing him how to use the tablets when he ran to the tables to take orders. “Sorry that you’re the new guy, and the new guy does the running.”
“It’s cool.”
“Good. Okay, now, when the guys all start their routines, watch them. They’ll start taking you downstairs to show you all they do on any weekend. They change things up, so don’t memorize the routines, just watch. Then you’ll know what things you can practice with the next couple of weeks.”
After Cosmo nodded, Murphy continued to introduce him to the many aspects of bartending, including the aftermath of heavy nights. “We do not put the bottles in the trash can,” he said, setting his hand on the rim of the big fifty-gallon trash can in the corner. “Not only do we recycle, but a bag filled with broken glass is no longer a useful bag. We will have a stack of empty boxes over here by the trash can for setting the empties into. Once they get full, you’ll also do that running. Outside, we have the big trash bin, and beside it there is another for just glass. We pay extra to have our trash and recycling picked up on Sunday mornings. After we close, all of us pitch in to make sure all the trash is out.”
“Got it.”
“We’ve got the veranda with the alley on the other side of the chain link, and let me tell you, on hot days, that chain-link fence doesn’t stop the smell.”
Cosmo laughed a little and remarked, “Gross.”
“Very.”
Cosmo looked nervous, so Murphy broke one of his own rules and poured the guy a double shot of Jameson. “I rarely okay any of you drinking before the night starts, but you could use this.”
Cosmo sat on the stool behind the bar and took the glass in both hands. “Thanks. I really needed this, and I’m not a drinker.”
“You’ll have people buying you drinks all night. A couple, I don’t worry about, but if you drank all the shots and drinks these horny assholes buy you, we’d be mopping you up off the floor by midnight.”
“So, we, what? Politely turn down the drinks?”
Murphy laughed as he slammed a double shot of his own. “Hell no. Never turn down money. There are three bottles behind the bar that are water, like for vodka shots, tea for whiskey and so on. You’ll notice the three slightly to the back, in the right hand corner.”
“Isn’t that…like…stealing?”
Murphy watched him to gauge exactly how offended he was about theft. “No. Whether or not you drink a shot, they’re paying for it. Most insist. It’s policy now. Why? Does that bother you?”
Cosmo took half of his drink and swallowed, blanching a little at the strength of it. “No. I mean, it seems a little skeevy, but you’re right. They’d feel worse if you just didn’t accept.”
“Skeevy, sure, but like I said, you’d be drunk off your ass if you really drank booze all night.”
Cosmo gazed heavily at all the liquor. “Fair point.”
“It’s a rough time, weekend nights. I will not lie, no matter if you jog, walk miles or workout hours a day, like Goldie, your feet are going to hurt. Under the sinks of all the bathrooms, you’ll find Epsom salts. I suggest you use it. Do a bath, soak your feet, whatever, and then you’ll feel it even harder the next night.”
Cosmo finished his drink after that revelation, but Murphy wouldn’t lie.
“Welcome to the pub, kid. It’s going to be good to have you.”