Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
“You better put on a show, honey, because they aren’t here to see me,” Laurel shouted into Iggy’s ear while Charlie Daniels beat the devil with his fiddle, and a crowd of folks on the dance floor tried to keep up with a fast-footed dance he’d never attempted, not even in his drunkest moments.
Put Iggy on a dance floor with good EDM and he could burn it up with the best of them, but those Coyote Ugly moves were beyond his booted feet’s comprehension.
“The show’s out there,” Iggy shouted back as he poured three Cosmos from his shaker, perfectly filling each glass without spilling a drop.
“Not the dancing, that magic you do with your bottles.” Laurel reached past him for a lime twist garnish. “There’s nothing this town likes better than gossip, and you and Howie are the hot topics right now. People wanna see what you did last night.”
“Yeah, we do,” someone said. Iggy had served the girl a chocolate martini a while ago, after digging up a somewhat dusty bottle of chocolate liqueur.
He’d figured out pretty fast last night that the Saddle Up was not known for serving fancy drinks, based on what was in the well, and what was collecting dust on high shelves.
Nothing was contaminated or discolored, but he still wanted to compare Uncle Howie’s purchase orders with the inventory to see what needed to be replaced with fresh stock.
So far tonight, a handful of people had asked Iggy to surprise them with a cocktail they’d maybe never heard of, and Iggy had enjoyed digging into his training.
He’d save his personal recipes for another time, if Uncle Howie allowed him to do the occasional special.
Right now, Iggy was filling in, keeping the money rolling in so they could afford whatever bills the hospital slapped them with.
He wasn’t here to change how the place was run.
Didn’t mean he couldn’t bring a little personal flair while he worked.
When a customer ordered a SoCo and lime, Iggy did a few flips with the quarter-full bottle, which earned him some cheers and a hearty tip. The flair always worked best with college students, whose brains were still cooking and absorbing, and who found aerodynamic alcohol the coolest thing ever.
This was not a college crowd, but it was a generally rural crowd, and he enjoyed showing them something new. Demonstrating that different didn’t mean scary or bad.
It was eight o’clock on a Friday night, and the dining area was still hopping, so Iggy took a turn on the service well, filling orders for folks still eating at tables on the other side of the flowing dance floor.
Charlie Daniels had been taken over by Hank Williams, and the dancing had changed a bit, as had some of the dancers.
As he placed a pitcher of Coors by its ticket for service, a familiar figure caught his eye.
Malcolm was out on the dance floor, spinning a woman with dark brown hair whose smile would have lit up the room if Malcolm’s wasn’t brighter.
Or maybe Iggy was biased.
The woman seemed familiar, and Malcolm wasn’t dancing intimately, so even if Iggy didn’t know Malcolm was gay, he wouldn’t have pegged them as together. Just dancing and having fun with everyone else out there.
Didn’t stop a flare of unwanted jealousy from burning in Iggy’s gut like too many Spicy Pickle shots.
Iggy didn’t like to dance while sober, had only ever done it once, under the stars with his Monte, but damn it all if Iggy didn’t want to be the one Malcolm was moving around the dance floor.
Spinning and bending and swaying his hips.
And then tripping and falling on my dumb face. Focus, Donohue.
Iggy went back to the next ticket for draft beers.
He also kept track of Malcolm and his companion, who eventually made their way to the bar and waited.
Near Iggy’s station, of course. The pair chatted and laughed and spoke with another couple who’d parked themselves at the bar over an hour ago, and who was on their second platter of nachos.
By the time it was their turn, Iggy figured out who the woman was before Malcolm introduced them. “You never got to meet my sister Melissa,” Malcolm said, head tilted toward the older woman. “Iggy Donohue, my sister, Melissa Ricardo.”
“It’s great to meet you,” Melissa said. “Monte hasn’t told me a whole lot about you but it’s all been positive. I’m glad to hear Howie’s on the mend.”
“Thank you.” Iggy reached across the bar to shake her outstretched hand. “Great to meet you, too. Mont—Malcolm talked about you a lot. Babysitter?”
“To drink?”
“No, to watch the kids.”
Melissa laughed, and she sounded a lot like her brother. “For the two youngest. The oldest are both at sleepovers. Monte insisted I take the night off and interact with people outside of my salon.”
“Probably good advice. To drink?”
“Coors Light. Monte?”
“Same,” Malcolm replied.
Iggy poured their drafts, unsure how he felt about someone still calling him Monte, a nickname that he thought he’d come up with back in high school, but…
no. No, Malcolm had told him his sister called him Monte, and Iggy had adored the nickname so he’d used it.
Used it so much he thought he’d invented it. Believed that true for years.
But he hadn’t invented it. How had he been so wrong about that?
Iggy had apparently been wrong about a lot of things from high school, but now wasn’t the time to dwell.
He’d made up his mind that he wanted to settle things, once and for all.
Stop nosing around the past and just put his foot right in the stink.
Not at work, though.
Melissa started a tab, and Iggy got the sense she was the one getting totaled tonight.
She proved him correct by downing the first beer quickly, and then ordering a second before dragging Malcolm off to dance.
Knowing they were siblings made the pair more fun to observe, which he did as he continued to pour, shake, and serve his guests, occasionally doing a bottle trick to keep the cash flowing.
Around nine-thirty, the metal dinner bell rang, which meant someone was attempting the mechanical bull riding challenge.
Since the entire challenge only lasted about ten seconds, it just needed someone who worked there to vend the riding tokens and supervise, so the hostess went over.
Just as well. Iggy didn’t like going near the damned thing, even when it wasn’t in use.
The music dimmed, and a good chunk of the guests tried to crowd their way to the far side of the big space, so they could watch the guy flail around for a few seconds.
Iggy concentrated on his orders, and he counted four seconds between the start bell and the gong of doom. Fail. Cheers and boos followed, and then the music went back up.
The next time Iggy really looked up from his work, Malcolm was seated at the bar. A quick scan of the dance floor located Melissa dancing with a younger guy in jeans and a black t-shirt. “Another beer?” Iggy asked.
“Yeah, just one more for me,” Malcolm replied. “I’m Melissa’s DD tonight, and even though we live close enough we could walk, I’d rather not have to come back for my truck in the morning.”
“I’m guessing she doesn’t get out much.” Iggy angled the beer glass and pulled the tap.
“Hardly ever, especially since Tomás died. I finally convinced her that dancing with another guy wasn’t cheating on her husband’s memory.”
“She thinking about dating again?”
“I think she’s flirting with thinking about it.”
Ouch. Iggy slid the beer over. “Think she’s ready to try something new? Risk her heart?”
“I hope so. She deserves it.” Malcolm held his gaze, and so much burned there that Iggy nearly fell into those depths and lost himself.
Malcolm never supposed himself to be the brightest crayon in the box, but if he knew one thing right then, it was that Iggy wasn’t just asking if Melissa was ready to risk her heart.
He was asking something else, something subtler but way bigger for them both.
Without saying it, they’d both spent half a lifetime chained down by events they’d never talked about.
It was time to talk about it and free each other to live. Truly live.
He picked up the fresh beer and sipped, enjoying the bitter bubbles and icy chill.
Dancing had burned off his earlier alcohol, and while part of him wanted to throw back a couple of shots to buoy his courage, he also wanted a clear head.
Iggy was speaking directly to him, smiling, not facing away, all signs that he was open to…
something. No emotional or physical wall between them, only interest.
Iggy reminded him so much of his teenage self that all Malcolm wanted to do was flirt.
“I wish I could help out Melissa on the dating thing,” Iggy said, “but I just got back to town and recognize, like, four people from high school.”
Malcolm chuckled. “The longer you hang out and spend time other places than the hospital and here, you’ll start to see familiar faces. Different but familiar. Gray hair, beer bellies, a few receding hairlines, that kind of thing.”
“Noted.” Iggy was still smiling when he moved down the bar to serve customers.
That smile left Malcolm warmer than the beer he drank, his attention shifting between watching Iggy charm other patrons and watching his sister enjoy herself.
He hadn’t seen her smile so big or laugh so hard since her wedding day—well, second wedding day.
Malcolm hadn’t gone to her first wedding to Lorne, and the marriage hadn’t produced anything except Amy and hurt feelings.
Melissa’s wedding to Tomás had been a fun, festive affair, despite the small attendance, and it had been the highlight of Malcolm’s post-Iggy young-adulthood.