Chapter 4
Chapter Four
YURI
“The color is right.” Easy holds the glass up to the light to inspect it, then brings it to his nose for a sniff. “It smells okay too.”
“Are you going to drink it?” I ask.
“I’m getting to that,” he assures me. “I’m just preparing myself in case you’re as bad as Boston’s last bartender.”
“Lyric tried his hardest,” Goose says, sliding onto the stool on Easy’s other side, the one that isn’t already occupied by all seven feet and two hundred some pounds of Easy’s shadow, also known as Lux.
It’s only taken me two weeks to feel more settled here on the island. I haven’t met every single resident yet, but putting faces to the names Boston threw at me on the first day has helped a lot.
My pulse spikes at the mention of Lyric… Cooper. I’ve only seen him in passing since the night he helped me carry the bags back to my house, and I wish I knew whether he’s purposely avoiding me or if it’s just worked out that way.
“Lyric bartended here?” I ask, doing my best to sound casual.
“Briefly,” Lux says.
“Not briefly enough,” Easy adds, and all three of them laugh.
“We love him, but let’s just say mixing drinks wasn’t his calling,” Goose says.
“Making donuts wasn’t either,” Easy chimes in again. “Poor guy has worked at just about every business in Palm Island and none of them have stuck.”
“You ever wonder what he does for money? He refuses to charge anyone for the weed he grows, so that’s not it,” Goose muses.
“With Lyric, nothing would surprise me.” Easy laughs and finally takes a sip of his drink.
I watch his reaction while half my thoughts are still on Cooper, just like they have been every day since I got here.
What does he do for money? It would be just like him not to think about it at all and somehow manage to get by.
Back when we dated, he was always scraping it together here and there, picking up small gigs playing at dive bars or taking odd jobs that never lasted long.
It always made me itchy that he never knew where his rent money would come from.
Easy smiles, licks his lips, and sets the glass on the bar.
“Tangy, sweet, and just the right amount of booze. Excellent Sex on the Beach,” he declares, and my shoulders sag with relief. I don’t know why I let him worry me; I followed the recipe exactly.
“And if anyone knows about sex on the beach…” Boston jokes, sidling up beside me.
“It’s true, I’m the expert,” Easy says, taking another sip from his drink and then passing it to Lux to share.
“I’ll take one too,” Goose says. “And a Vodka Sprite for Pete.”
“Coming right up.” I take the cash Easy set down on the bar then turn around to start working on Goose’s order.
“You doing alright?” Boston asks.
It’s the first night there’ve been more than a handful of guys in the bar, so it’s a fair question.
We opened the door an hour ago for a Valentine’s Day event catered by Chef Storm, and it’s been packed since minute one.
I’m sure it’ll be a long, busy night, but there’s something about the simplicity of the work that’s soothing.
Read the recipe, mix the drink, take the money, repeat.
There’s an immediate sense of accomplishment, the stakes are low, and the tips are good, so I really can’t complain.
“No problems here,” I assure him.
“Good man.” He pats my shoulder before walking away.
I give Goose his drinks and he takes them over to the table he’s sharing with Pete and occasionally Hennessey when he slips away from helping with the food for a few minutes at a time.
Boston’s partner, Trick, joins Easy and Lux, and I get him his usual rum and Coke.
Bird is circulating, picking up empty glasses and taking orders to bring to me, and I just keep moving, finding order in the chaos of tonight’s celebration.
Valentine’s day has always seemed really cheesy to me, and all of the hearts and naked angels taped up on the walls of the bar tonight haven’t changed my opinion.
I can see the fun of having a reason to get together like this in the middle of the winter though, just to break up the otherwise uneventful off-season.
The jukebox is playing some beachy love song I’ve never heard before and some of the locals whose names I haven’t learned yet are dancing to it.
I pass a martini and a beer across the bar to Bird to take to Angel and Devil’s table, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the door swing open.
It should be too crowded for me to tell who’s coming in, but the blond hair catches my attention immediately, spiking my pulse and making my hands shake as I pull them back across the bar and dry them off on the front of my apron.
It’s not like he’s the only blond guy on Palm Island, but it’s him, I know it is.
Calm down, I tell myself, but I immediately ignore my own advice, fidgeting with the tie on my apron and ignoring the customer trying to get my attention a few seats down in favor of waiting for Cooper to make his way through the crowd.
Shit, I don’t want to just be standing here waiting for him when he notices me though.
I force myself to move, putting on a fake smile as I approach the customer who was waving.
He asks for a Seven and Seven and I nod, half listening, half searching for Cooper in the sea of bodies and dim lighting.
My brain is barely aware of what my body is doing as I turn, grab a glass, and fill it with beer from the tap.
When I turn back towards the customer, Cooper is there, sitting in the empty seat right next to him with his blond hair pulled back and a joint tucked behind his ear.
He flashes me a toothy smile and my hands shake involuntarily again, spilling a little bit of beer down the sides of the glass, running over my knuckles and leaving them damp and sticky.
“Here you go,” I set the drink down on the bar and the customer frowns.
“I asked for a Seven and Seven. That’s Seagram’s and—”
“This is for me,” Lyric says, grabbing the glass of beer and sliding it in front of himself. “Chill, Brad, he knows what a Seven and Seven is.”
“Yes, I do know,” I assure the customer, Brad I guess, and hurry over to mix the right drink this time, forcing myself to stop thinking about Cooper long enough to get it right this time.
As soon as I hand it over, Brad tosses cash down and slips into the crowd. I let my shoulders sag and shoot Cooper a grateful smile.
“Thanks for the save. For the record, that was my first screwup tonight. I was just distracted.”
He laughs and takes a sip of his beer. “You can’t be a worse bartender than me. Has anyone told you?”
I cringe. I’ve never been a good liar, but I also hate saying things that hurt people’s feelings, which makes this a tricky situation. He reads my expression in an instant though and laughs again.
“You don’t have to drink that.” I nod at the beer. “I can get you something else. There’s a Valentine’s Day special called Love Potion, or I can mix whatever else you want.”
He shrugs. “This is fine. I came down here for the company more than the booze.”
My stomach sinks, but I keep the smile plastered on.
The company. Right. I’m sure Valentine’s Day on Palm Island is a great night to hook up.
From what I can tell, there isn’t really a bad night for that around here, but a quick glance around the bar makes it easy to see that everyone is in an amorous mood.
Guys are dancing, kissing, flirting… Even Bird seems to be having a hard time making it between tables without getting his ass pinched, and it doesn’t look like he minds.
“Looking for a little naughty naughty?” I ask, then cringe again. “Gross, why did I ask that? And in literally the weirdest way possible. I don’t want to know.” I shake my head and we both laugh.
LYRIC
I forgot that Yuri was hired for the bar when I first walked in.
I actually forgot it was Valentine’s Day until I saw how crowded it was inside.
I didn’t have any plans for the night, so a drink or two and a little bit of chaos is as good as anything.
And if I get to watch Yuri blush like that and fidget with the strings on his apron, even better.
“Hey, Yuri, three rum and Cokes,” Bird shouts from the end of the bar, snapping Yuri out of the lingering look we’re sharing and the weird, fake smile he has plastered on his face.
“You got it,” he calls back, then pivots on his heel and gets to work making the drinks.
I sip my beer slowly and watch him scurry around, mixing the rum and Cokes for Bird before moving on to the next customer waving him down.
I still can’t make Yuri fit in Palm Island in my head.
It’s like a crossover episode of a TV show that doesn’t actually make sense and could never be accepted as canon.
He mixes drinks like he’s been doing it his whole life and is friendly with the customers when he hands them over.
That part isn’t surprising. He’s good at everything, so of course he could master bartending.
“Hey, Lyric.” A warm breath tickles the back of my neck, and I turn around to see who it is.
Wild, Chef Storm’s sous chef grins at me and holds up a paper bag… Wait, is it a soup chef? That doesn’t sound right. He shakes the bag with a grin and there’s a metallic jangling sound.
“Want to get in on the key party?” He waggles his eyebrows and holds the bag open so I can drop a set of keys in if I want. “If you lost your keys, toss in whatever you want, as long as you’ll remember what was yours when someone pulls it out.”
I think I did lose my keys now that he mentions it. But that’s not the reason I shake my head.
“I’m good. Thanks, man.”