Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
CALLUM
“ C an’t believe you didn’t bring me a lemon heaven bar back,” Donovan grumbled from the bar.
“Mine was lovely,” Maeve piped up. “That soft, lemony sponge cake with the shot of curd in the middle made my taste buds tingle. It was like a lemon explosion had a party in my mouth. Unfortunately, Donovan O’Shea, it was a party you weren’t invited to.”
I barked a laugh.
“You’re getting big for your boots, nerd girl,” my brother mumbled.
Maeve grinned. “Don’t cry, Donny. I’ll go back to Martha’s with you.”
He sniffed. “You better.”
I cocked my head and tapped my flip pad which was perched on the bar with my pointy stick. “Can we please get back to the manager’s meeting?”
“I’m bored,” Donny whined. “How the feck did Tadhg’s ass get away with not being here?”
“He’s keeping Ma occupied for me. I don’t want her to know how much debt the bar’s in; you know how she worries. Can we just get this part out of the way, and then we can bounce ideas around about how to fix it.”
“I could’ve kept Ma occupied,” my brother muttered. “T’s such a fucking pussy.”
“You’re gonna be involved in the bar, too,” I reminded him. “Tadhg’s leaving in a few days to train for his next race. I want you to organize security on the door for the weekends Dischordium play here.” My voice began to rise. “This bar belongs to all of us, but no fucker apart from me seems to take the fact we could lose it goddamned seriously!”
Donny threw a peanut in the air before catching it in his mouth with perfect timing. “Told ya, we should make our own beer. You’ve got all the equipment outside. There’s a fucking distillery out in the barn. You could make a fortune.”
“What’s he on about?” Maeve asked, jerking her thumb toward Donovan.
I rubbed my temple, trying not to lose my shit with my asshole brother. “Me and Da were gonna start brewing ale. It started to become all the rage a few years ago, so we brought all the equipment and set it up in one of the outbuildings out back. Then he got sick, and it fell by the wayside.”
“It’s a great idea,” she murmured. “All in all, the process takes about four weeks. If it takes off, you could cut down your costs but still add different beers to the drinks menu. You could even pair them with food and get the kitchen moving again. It’s a great selling point and an efficient way to test out what people like. Look at it like free market research.” She jumped down from the bar counter next to Donovan. “You said you wanted to change your reputation and start becoming known as a female-friendly establishment again after all the date rape assaults, so design a drink for the ladies. Those alcoholic fruit ciders do well in England and Ireland. All my friends and I drank them when I was over there last time, and they were delicious. You could even play up the Gaelic aspect of the bar and offer a signature Irish fruit cider that you market toward the ladies.” She moved toward me, and my eyes drifted lower, suddenly mesmerized by how her top pulled tight across her chest, showing off the outline of her pert little nipples through the thin, stretchy material.
My cock kicked in my jeans.
Dang.
“Show me,” Maeve demanded.
I had to clench my jaw to stop myself from demanding the same thing. Though my demands were all about the round, bouncy breasts that now I couldn’t stop myself from ogling.
“Callum,” she barked. “Focus.”
“Right,” I muttered, giving my head a little shake so I could indeed try to do that. “This way.”
I headed for the kitchen with Maeve right behind me, grabbing a set of keys from a hook close to the rear door that led to the yard and the outbuilding at the back of the bar.
Although we were right on Main Street, there wasn’t a road behind us, which allowed the stores and buildings at the back of the bar to sprawl out further than most. We had a courtyard containing a lean-to for us to park our vehicles under, a temperature-controlled cellar building for us to store all our beers, barrels, and drinks, and the barn that held the distillery that Da and I had built about three years before. It meant all our deliveries never had to hit the front of the building, and we could roll everything in and out easily from the access road at the back and through the rear corridor into the bar.
Still trying to get my mind off my wifey’s beautiful tits, and with a twitching cock, I unlocked the barn and pulled down the bolts in order to open the double doors leading inside. Flicking a switch on the wall, I watched Maeve’s eyes light up as the fluorescent beams brightened the cavernous room.
“This is awesome,” she breathed, her eyes turning to me as she adjusted her glasses. “Does it work?”
“It had better,” I muttered, looking around the huge chrome barrels and vats. “We bought it all new and had it installed, but then Da got sick, and we never used it. It’ll need a quick service just to make sure it’s still running efficiently, but yeah, it should work fine.”
“There’s everything we need,” she declared excitedly, her eyes shining with interest. “You’ve even got a bottling machine.”
I smiled fondly at the memory of my dad buying all this stuff. “Da was thorough, to say the least.”
“Why didn’t you use it before now?” she asked curiously. “It’s such a great setup. You could’ve already been in production for years.”
An ache spread through my chest.
Da’s loss was still so fucking raw. Every memory had so much pain attached to it that I tried to avoid thinking about him. We had so many plans for this place; it gutted me that he’d never see them come to fruition.
I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the wave of grief that still took me by surprise. I’d find myself doing mundane, simple things, and suddenly, it would hit me out of nowhere that Da had gone, and I’d feel so fucking hollow and lost.
Something soft touched my hand, and a sweet, flowery scent hit my nostrils.
My eyes snapped open to see Maeve standing close, peering up at me.
“It’s beautiful what you two intended to do with this place, Callum,” she murmured. “Lorcan was larger than life, and I can just imagine you and him with your heads together, discussing all your big, fancy plans.”
The pain in my chest eased slightly as a memory pinged in the back of my mind. “We had huge plans, so we did. Dad wanted to make his own whiskey, too.”
Maeve raised a hand to my nape and squeezed. “He loved his Macallan. Hated the price tag, though. I remember when Lorcan used to tell Paddy he’d only drink the rare stuff on account of his delicate disposition. He’d give me a wink, and I knew he was winding Patrick up just to get to his Macallan reserves.”
“He’d gloat about it.” I smiled. “Thought it was hilarious that he’d gotten one over the big Mafia boss. He’d drink the cheaper stuff alright when he was financing it.”
“One of the canniest men I’ve ever known,” she whispered. “And so smart that some days he’d make me feel dumb.”
Our eyes locked, and I took in the pretty blue, green, and silver swirls. My heart clenched at the emotions coursing through me. There was sadness at losing Da, of course, but I still felt a sense of gratitude that I had Maeve to talk about him with. Ma was still so sad; I didn’t want to make her feel even worse. Tadhg seemed to shrug Da’s death off, and Donny carried so much residual anger that it worried me sometimes.
Admittedly, I was pissed with Da, too, except I was altogether more forgiving than Donovan.
The bar, Maeve, the deal, and the position he’d put me in made me wonder if I ever knew him at all. But now, I was starting to see the method in his madness, and I realized that maybe I needed to trust the process.
“Da loved you,” I stated. “And he would’ve loved this for us.”
Her lip trembled, but she smiled through it. “He loved you more. So much, Callum. I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. I was at the Vatican doing some research and couldn’t get back in time for the funeral, and I’m sad to have missed it. I wish I could’ve been there for you all.”
I lowered my forehead until it rested on Maeve’s, thinking it was funny how a heart could break and knit together at the same time. “You’re here now.”
She beamed up at me. “Yeah, and ready to work.” She pulled away from me and cast a critical eye around the place. “I’ll need a week to work out how to use the equipment. I also need to research recipes and what measures to use. Then we’ll need a month to brew and ferment.”
“That takes us up to the Christmas period,” I mused.
“I need to find supplies and ingredients,” she continued, beginning to pace excitedly. “I need apples and other fruits. I have to research recipes and suppliers and go on the forums to see what works for others and any pitfalls to look out for.” Her feet faltered, and her eyes slid back to mine. “We could keep the place open as it is now for the dinner and bistro service; then, the weekend before Christmas, plan a grand re-opening for the bar. I’ll talk to Carbine about postponing his band’s gig until that weekend, and we'll come back with a bang. We’ll market it as the hottest party in town. The new and improved Lucky Shamrock Bar. The only place in Wyoming to see and be seen.”
Maeve’s enthusiasm was contagious, but she also spoke a lot of sense. Da and I had done extensive market research into the real ale business, and it was definitely on the rise. The alcoholic cider was also proving popular in the States, especially amongst women.
After the roofie business a few years before and the subsequent discovery that the town’s mayor and his son were behind it all, the women had gotten spooked, and rightly so. They stopped going out partying, and if the ladies disappeared, it stood to reason the men did, too.
That was where our problems began.
Our takings were cut by at least half. We’d had to adapt, so we started concentrating on the early evening, stopping for a drink on the way home, single patrons, late-night shoppers, and the after-work crowds. We started offering food and snacks and made the place a stopgap so we could survive. It wasn’t as lucrative, but I thought it had kept us in the black. Maybe it would have if Da hadn’t gotten sick.
But I remembered the days before, the long, hot, sticky summer nights when the place was jumping, and people stood ten deep at the bar, baying for service. I remembered the Christmas parties, the music and dancing, the laughter, the fun, the electric atmosphere, and the shenanigans. But most of all, I remembered the cash registers ringing.
That was the Shamrock I missed. And that was the Shamrock I yearned for again.
“We’ll do some work to the bar,” I suggested. “Refinish the floors, paint the walls, redo the lighting, and build a stage. New chairs and tables, new couches, new furnishings.”
“It’ll be awesome ,” Maeve breathed, her cosmic eyes sparkling.
My heart filled to the brim. “It will,” I agreed. “But it’s gonna take a lotta work.”
She nodded toward the equipment, “I can do the science part. It’ll be fun.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, dipping my chin to catch her eyes. “Everything will ride on this. I’ll be spending every cent I have left to get the bar ready and pay for what you need.”
“I have money—” she began, but I shook my head decisively, effectively cutting her off. “No.”
“Callum—” she went to protest. I placed my index finger gently over her full, pink lips and firmly repeated, “No,” before dropping my hand.
“We’ll get it right,” she assured me. “We’ll research everything, and if the band’s as popular as you say it is, that’ll help. We’ll make opening night an extravaganza. Invite everyone who’s anyone. We’ll hire the best-looking bartenders and the sexiest waitresses and give the customers all the glamour they can take. We’ll sell them a lifestyle, Callum O’Shea.”
My lips quirked at Maeve’s use of my full name while wondering how I hadn’t noticed how pretty her skin was before. It was pale but clear—almost glass-like. The splatter of freckles across her nose reached across her bottom lip, and I felt the sudden urge to kiss every one of them.
Jerking myself from my stupor, I took a step back.
Maeve peered up at me through her thick glasses. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I replied, trying to gather my thoughts, but she was already turning toward the door, completely unaffected by me. “Where you going?” I called after her, forehead furrowing as she made for the door.
“Research,” she declared. “I have to start thinking about what we’re going to brew, how we’re going to do it, and what slant we can put on it to make it our own. Maybe we should keep it simple and stick to the Irish theme—people love that stuff. The sooner I hit the internet and familiarize myself with marketing strategies, the sooner we can get started.” She reached the door, and her steps faltered. “Are there any farms or orchards close by where we can get local produce? I think that could also be a huge selling point.”
“I’ll get a list together...” I went to tell her, but my voice trailed off as she swept through the door and past Donovan, who was about to step inside.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his neck swiveling as his eyes followed Maeve. “I had to take a call about the gym.” His thumb jerked after my wife. “What’s got her all fired up?”
I swept a hand around the room. “This place. Maeve wants to try her hand at making homebrew, craft ales, and boozy fruit ciders.”
Donovan slowly nodded his head, obviously impressed. “Good idea. They’re all the rage at the moment, especially amongst the ladies.”
“That’s what she said,” I concurred. “Maeve reckons it’s all she and her friends drank the last time she was across the pond. Reckons we can easily brew our own from local produce. Especially seeing as we have all this equipment gathering dust.”
“Well, it’s not like we don’t got a million farms and orchards around here. Your Mrs. could be onto something.” His eyes met mine. “She’s smart.”
“She also suggested a grand reopening the week before the holidays. Market the bar as the up-and-coming place to be. Get Dischordium to play. Make it a full-on welcome back to the Lucky Shamrock.”
Donovan grinned. “Genius idea. Rebrand the bar alongside the new drinks and make it the hottest place in Wyoming.” He eyed my contemplative look and folded his arms across his chest. “Seems it’s an ideal way to get us back in the black. So why do you look like somebody ran over your new puppy?”
“It’s gonna take everything I’ve got,” I told him flatly. “At the moment, I have a nest egg I could use as a chunk toward Paddy’s loan. But if we do this, I’ve gotta buy supplies and ingredients, pay to refurb the bar, and cover our overheads. Even buying bottles for the drinks will run into the thousands. It’s a risk, bro, and a fucking huge one at that. If it doesn’t work, I’ll lose everything, including my life, no doubt. Everything I own, including the shirt on my back, will be riding on it.”
“Weigh up your options, Cal,” Donny urged. “The cake you’ve got isn’t enough anyway. There’s not much we can do to raise the kind of green you need, and you know what they say: you’ve gotta speculate to accumulate.”
I rubbed my temple, trying to ease the tension headache that was forming. “I wish Da were here.”
“Da’s the one who caused this,” Donovan muttered.
“I know,” I agreed dryly. “I could just do with his advice right about now.”
My dad may have screwed up, but he did it for the right reasons.
His mistakes didn’t negate the fact that he was an astute businessman or that, with just one word, he could instill enough confidence in me to make a decision and give me the inspiration to achieve my goals.
Ma was still grieving, as was Ash. Tadhg kept his cards close to his chest, and Donovan would rather ignore his negative emotions for Da by throwing himself into his new gym than dealing with them. Talking to Maeve a few moments before had been the first time since the funeral that anyone had acknowledged my grief, and it made me ache because I’d never needed my da more. His opinion had always meant everything to me; being without him felt like I was stranded on a desert island, out on a limb, and sharks like Patrick Doyle were circling.
Everything rested on my shoulders, and the pressure was starting to weigh me down. Add on the fact I had a new wife and a marriage I was trying to navigate when I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and my brain was close to exploding. All the new feelings and emotions Maeve was bringing to the surface were so damned confusing. I didn’t know if I should hold on and enjoy the ride or keep my distance from her.
My heavy sigh was so loud it echoed through the room.
This was exactly why I didn’t do serious.
It was a total head-fuck.
“Okay,” Donovan stated matter-of-factly. “Let’s look at the facts. You’ve got what? Thirty thousand in your back pocket?
“Forty,” I corrected. “Plus, a fifty-K line of credit with the bank, but that’s linked to the business.”
“You can sell up here and get what? One-ninety?”
I nodded.
“But still not enough to repay Patrick by a long shot,” Donny stated. “You’ve got no choice. You either make this shit work or lose everything; though you’d lose everything anyway, so you may as well work hard, invest what you have left and try to get a return on it. Sometimes, these small breweries produce something special that gets picked up by the big leagues. If that happens, you can negotiate enough to pay Patrick off. We can show our stuff off once Maeve’s perfected her recipe, and I tell ya something, brother, if anyone can hit on a winner, it’s her; she’s a perfectionist. In the meantime, we turn this place around and get it back to what it was. It’s been long enough since that business with the old mayor; the town needs this, the family fucking needs it,” his hand hit my shoulder, “and more to the point, you do. You think I haven’t noticed you pull away more since Da died? Ya think I’m not worried sick?”
The gut punch hit me outta nowhere like I’d been physically struck. The back of my throat heated, and I had to pull in a deep breath to stop myself from tearing up.
“You can feel it, bro,” Donovan urged. “It’s okay to show emotion. I’m furious with him, and I can’t hide it. I miss the old bastard every day, but our relationship was always more contentious than yours.”
“I dunno how to grieve him, Donny,” I croaked. “I can’t lose my shit; I haven’t got time. Since Da passed, I’ve had so much on my plate, and in a way, I’m grateful for it ‘cause it’s kept my head together. Tadhg won’t talk about him. Mam’s walking around like a zombie. Ash was scared to leave her side, and I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her before she left. How’s she doing with everything?”
Donny shrugged. “She’s okay. I think we’re all in the mindset where we’re forcing ourselves to move on without taking the time to talk about it. Maybe we should make time for Mam tonight. See if Maeve will check in with us. We all lost him, but Mam will be feeling it the most.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “We’ll talk about our plans for the bar and try to get her involved. It may help her to have something to do to take her mind off him.”
“We can’t bury it all, though, bro. It’s not healthy.”
My gut clenched painfully. “I know. I hope it’ll happen organically, the healing process.”
Donovan snorted quietly. “Maybe we’re too fucked up.”
My lips twitched. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”
“All we can do is our best, Cal,” Donny murmured. “Life’s changed drastically in a short amount of time. If you’re not ready to cry and wail, then don’t. Maybe throwing yourself into a project like this is what you need to do for now. Maybe he even wanted it for ya. Who the fuck knew how Da’s mind worked half the time? I just worry it’ll eat you from the inside if you don’t let it out.”
I saw Donny’s point, especially since I also had the same concerns about him.
“How about we keep checking in on each other?” I suggested. “Make a point of talking once in a while. In the meantime, we’ll spend more time with Ma and give her shit to do for the grand reopening of the bar.”
“So, you’re going ahead with it then?” he asked.
Slowly, I nodded. “I don’t think I’ve got much choice. You know what Ma says. In for a penny, in for a pound.”
“Or, in this case, in with your last cent and the shirt off your back for good measure, or else our friendly family of mobsters will blow your kneecaps off.”
“Yeah.” I barked a laugh. “That too.”
Donovan jerked his thumb in the direction of the bar. “You’ve got an asset in Maeve, though, Callum. She’ll see you right. You could’ve done a lot worse there, especially when it comes to researching all this shit. I bet ya by tomorrow lunchtime, that girl knows exactly what she’s brewing, how she’ll do it, and she’ll have all our suppliers lined up and the pants charmed off ‘em for good measure.”
Our stares locked, and I shook my head disbelievingly. “Can you believe I’m a married man?”
Donovan chuckled. “Da and Patrick got you over the proverbial barrel, didn’t they?”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with a wife?” I asked wryly.
Donovan’s eyes bugged out. “Right? And Maeve Monroe, of all people? Though Dad saw something in her that he wanted for you, and I’m starting to think he may have known what he was doing. She’s great. Just make sure you don’t fuck it up like you always do.”
My gut tightened at his words, especially since it was pretty much a given that I would invariably do what he warned me about and indeed fuck it up. Why were we saying everything except the truth?
I liked Maeve, and it was fast becoming obvious that she was among the very few women I could be in the company of for more than five minutes without wanting to rip my own head off.
However, that didn’t mean shit; it certainly didn’t mean I’d ever love her. I wasn’t built that way, and Donovan got it because he wasn’t either. We always got bored. We were the same way as kids, whether it was toys, friends, video games, or even each other. There was a reason he fucked off to the military. The same reason I’d never had a girlfriend and why Tadhg couldn’t stop risking his life by racing cars. Even why Dad had to move away from the family in New York to ensure he wasn’t forced into a life he couldn’t escape from.
The O’Shea men had an inbuilt restlessness that we’d never been able to shake. My dad used to say we had the Devil in us, and he was right. We always thought the next best thing was just around the corner and believed the grass was always greener.
It was our curse and our salvation, and not something I’d ever really thought about before, purely because I’d never had to be responsible for anybody but myself. Except that had changed, and for the life of me, I couldn’t help wondering what the fuck my da had been thinking when he saddled me with a wife and, more to the point, saddled Maeve with me.
I’d avoided this shit all my life because I never wanted to hurt anyone.
And now, my chest ached with the knowledge that, eventually, I may not have a choice.