Chapter 23 #2
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Finn nodded toward the pink-haired guy who was now taking selfies with customers. “That’s Benji, our new bartender. He’s been here for six hours and has already started three trends, only one of them on TikTok.”
“The singing being one of them?”
“The singing, the synchronized bottle flipping, and something he’s calling ‘Gay History Happy Hour’ where he educates people about queer bartenders while making their drinks.”
“That’s . . . very specific.”
“That’s Benji.” Finn shrugged while making something blue and sparkly that looked like it could power a small city. “Want your usual booth?”
“Is it even available?”
“For you? I’ll make it available.” He finished the drink and handed it to someone. “Give me two minutes.”
He disappeared into the crowd. Two minutes later, a couple rose from my corner booth and Finn was gesturing me over.
“Your table, sir,” he said with mock formality.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to. Just had to offer them a free round or three.” I could feel his smile as I sat. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me, too.”
“Want anything? Food? Drink? Protection from whatever Benji’s planning next?”
“Surprise me.”
Finn’s eyebrows went up. “He’s a brave man.”
“I’m feeling spontaneous.”
Finn’s brow stayed that way. “A spontaneous family lawyer. That might be the oxymoron of all oxymorons.”
“What can I say? I’m complex.”
Finn’s smile returned, brighter than ever. Then his gaze drifted downward as I crawled into the booth.
“Nice jeans.”
I felt my face heat. “Too much?”
“Not even a little.” Finn leaned down, his voice low and raspy with a dose of mint and clover. “I bet they’d look better on the floor.”
I blinked, unable to reply, as he disappeared toward the bar.
Benji was behind the bar now, no longer directing his choir, making four drinks at once while also teaching someone how to pronounce “Aperol.” My booth was close enough to hear most of what he said.
The crowd was loud, happy, and engaged. Everyone was talking, laughing, and living. A few were still humming or singing. One couple in a darkened corner near the bathrooms was making out.
This was what I’d been missing.
This energy. This life.
This feeling of being part of something instead of just observing it from behind a desk or through a computer screen.
I sucked in a breath, drinking in the youthful vibe and endless laughter drifting through the place.
Finn returned with a drink that looked like liquid sunset. It was orange and pink and topped with something that might have been edible flowers.
“Benji made it,” Finn said, setting it down. “He calls it ‘The Gay Agenda.’ I have no idea what’s in it, but everyone who’s tried it has loved it.”
I took a sip.
It was citrusy and sweet, with a kick that suggested there was more alcohol in it than the pretty colors implied.
“This is dangerous,” I said.
“That’s what I said. Benji told me to ‘trust the process.’”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Probably, but he’s very good at his job, so I’m choosing to trust the chaos.” Finn glanced back at the bar where Benji was now juggling bottles again. “I should get back. But stay? Please?”
“I’m not going anywhere. I have a sunset to finish.
” I hefted my glass in salute as Finn’s hand reached down and squeezed my forearm.
The electricity in that touch shot up my arm and down my body before zapping the shit out of my toes.
Before I could think or speak or do anything, Finn had turned and vanished again.
I watched him move through the crowd, returning to his spot behind the bar beside Benji.
He made drinks, talked to customers, and occasionally laughed at something Benji said.
The pink-haired bartender was a force of nature, efficient chaos that somehow made it work, with more style and flair in his little finger than my whole body possessed.
Time passed.
It was measured in drinks.
I’d had two. And damn, they were strong.
The bar stayed packed. The energy never dipped. Benji started another sing-along around eleven-thirty—this time “Defying Gravity” from Wicked. Magically, the entire bar knew every word.
I was halfway through my third Gay Agenda when Finn reappeared at my table.
“So,” he said. “I did something possibly insane.”
“What?”
“I told Mark and Benji I’m taking the rest of the night off.”
I blinked. “You did what?”
“Actually, they kind of told me to leave. Benji pushed me toward your booth and said if I didn’t take you somewhere romantic he was going to ‘do it himself and not in a good way.’” Finn was smiling, but there was nervousness underneath. “So, counselor, want to get out of here?”
“Are you sure? It’s packed—”
“Benji and Mark have it covered. Jacks might die of exhaustion, but he’s young. He can recover from a little death.” He was fidgeting with his bar towel. “Unless you’d rather stay? Or go home? I don’t want to assume—”
“Yes,” I said too quickly. “I want to leave with you.”
Finn’s smile was blinding. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Good. Great.” He was still fidgeting. “I have no idea where we’re going. I didn’t plan this far ahead.”
“That’s okay.”
“Is it?”
“It’s perfect.”
Finn tossed his towel on the table, apparently not wanting to risk getting sucked back into his work.
I stood, and we navigated through the crowd toward the door.
Benji spotted us leaving and whooped, making several customers turn to look.
Mark gave Finn a double thumbs-up from behind the bar.
Before we stepped onto the sidewalk, the whole bar was applauding.
Finn’s face turned red, but he was smiling as he waved and shoved me outside.
The Tampa night hit us—humid and warm, with just a hint of the bay’s brine. The noise from Barbacks faded behind us as we strolled, replaced by the ambient sounds of Ybor on a Saturday night. I heard music from other bars, laughter, and the distant sound of someone’s car stereo.
A pair of roosters strutted by. They were a Ybor staple I knew too well from every sunrise.
We stopped walking and stood there for a moment, staring down the endless street of weekend revelers, neither of us quite sure what came next.
Then, for some ungodly reason, I reached down and took Finn’s hand.
His fingers were cool against my skin. They fit perfectly against mine.
“This way,” I said, pulling him gently.
“Where are we going?”
“No idea.”
“This is all very unlike you, Mr. Attorney Man.”
“I’m being spontaneous.”
Finn’s fingers tightened around mine. “I like it.”