12. Jess
Jess:
Hey, everyone! Please join me in welcoming Connor to the group!
Maman:
Bienvenu, Connor!
Dad:
Does this mean I’ll finally have someone to talk to about cars?
Scott:
How about that’s a separate, super boring thread with just you and Connor, Dad?
Dad:
What did I do to you, Scott? Did I hurt you? Was I not there for you enough?
Joe:
Just catching up here, did you say Connor is on this chat? Connor as in my son, Connor?
Chris:
Holy shit, baby brother’s emerged from his work cave!
Scott:
Watch your language, asshole, my mom’s in this group.
Maman:
Son, please, I can curse in two different languages.
Connor:
Uh, hi, everybody. Glad to be included…I think…
Dad:
Connor, did you see the new Mustang they’re rolling out this year?
Jess:
Seriously, Dad, not here.
Alyssa:
Hey, Connor, welcome to the circus. Do me a favor and make sure my husband doesn’t overindulge at the bar tonight, all right? I don’t trust your brother or Jess to keep him sober.
Jess:
Um, that’s uncalled for. I’m very responsible.
Alyssa:
Don’t make me post photos from St Patrick’s Day.
Jess:
What? Mom is that you calling? I gotta go, guys.
Chris:
No sweat, Lyss, Connor and I will be on Berringer Patrol. Connor, you take Scott and I’ll make sure that sweet, sweet Jessica stays in line.
Scott:
STOP HITTING ON MY SISTER!
Chris:
DON’T USE YOUR SHOUTY CAPS AT ME!
Connor:
I don’t know what’s going on but I’ll do my best, Alyssa.
Even though it’s a neighborhood joint, The Draft is surprisingly large when you get inside. Part family restaurant, part sports bar, it’s split into a few different sections and all of them are packed at 9:00 PM when we walk in. The restaurant area is to our right, the bar and pool tables are in the very back, but off to the left is where we’re headed. The karaoke area. Immediately at the front we’re greeted by a perky hostess, who may or may not be old enough to even serve alcohol.
“Hey, boys!” she greets my brother and Chris appreciatively.
“Looking lovely tonight, Emmaline,” Chris calls over his shoulder as we walk past her.
“She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?” I tease him.
“Aw, don’t be jealous, sweet lips.”
Scott lets out a groan. “Connor, back me up on this. Please tell your brother to leave my sister alone. It’s ridiculous, right?”
Connor glances at Chris, and then his gaze lingers on me. “It’s a little weird,” he agrees. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Scott so happy.
“See?” he yells. “It’s not just me! It’s weird! Stop it!”
Chris and I just chuckle as we pick a four-top off to the side by the makeshift stage and pull out our chairs. Someone’s already regaling everyone with her heartfelt version of Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me.
“I’m going to go put our name on the song list now,” Chris announces.
“Let’s go with Sweet Emotions,” Connor says. I smile over at him, surprised he remembers my request. He just winks in response and it makes me feel like I’m Emmaline’s age again.
Chris welcomes the suggestion and nods. “Solid choice, I’ll throw it down.”
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” Scott taps the back of his chair and walks towards the bar where the restrooms are.
I turn to Connor, who, despite his outward demeanor, seems a little out of his element here. “Ask me to tell you something amazing,” I tell him.
He smiles and cocks his head. “What?”
“That’s how the game works. You start with ‘Tell me something’ and follow it up with what you want to know. And then the other person has to answer. So go ahead, ask me.”
“Uh, all right. Tell me something amazing.”
I lean in so I won’t have to yell over the crowd. “Your brother started flirting with me to help me feel comfortable taking a compliment after my divorce. Using it to drive Scott nuts is just a bonus. It was like a safe way for me to get used to positive attention because we would obviously never be a couple in real life.”
He looks skeptical and hesitantly asks, “You two never…not even once?”
I laugh. “No, definitely not.” I study Connor. “You seem surprised.”
“I just know how Chris is around beautiful women, and it seems highly unlikely that he wouldn’t have asked you out at some point.”
Oh man, did he just call me a beautiful woman? Fake flirting with Chris has not prepared me for this. I look at the table for a moment before looking back up at Connor, whose ridiculous handsomeness seems to smack me in the face every time I make eye contact with him. “I, um, no. No, we were never anything more than friends. Lots of reasons for that.”
“Lots of reasons for what?” Scott asks as he returns to the table.
Before I have time to worry about coming up with a lie or excuse not to answer, a deep voice bellows, “Hey I don’t want any trouble in here!” followed by Chris’ infectious laughter coming back from the karaoke area. We all turn to the source and Scott immediately joins in. He and Chris trade bro-claps with the tallest man I’ve ever seen in real life. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that showcases his tan, muscled arms, and the blue jeans he has on are doing wonders for his ass.
Not that I’m looking.
“You gotta come meet my brother, man,” Chris says and gestures to our table.
“Oh God, there’s two of you?” the man laughs.
“Please, I’m one of a kind. This is Connor. Bro, this is Cruz, he runs the place.”
“Nope,” Cruz quickly corrects. “No running. Just the bartender.”
“Nice to meet you, man,” Connor shakes his hand as Chris mouths, He runs the place.
“And this is my sister, Jess,” Scott chimes in.
“Jess, how are you?”
“I’m great, how are you?” I do my best impression of a confident person and let his large hand engulf mine in a grip.
“Hanging in there,” he responds with a grin. “You know these clowns are always in here on game days during football season, why don’t they ever bring you?”
I look at Scott and my shoulders droop before I mumble the answer.
“What?” Cruz and Connor both ask.
I sigh and roll my eyes. “I’m not allowed to watch Broncos games in public anymore.”
Cruz’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is there a story there?”
“Several,” Scott helpfully supplies. “She’s a detriment to herself and others.”
I flip him off and stick my tongue out at him while he pretends not to notice.
“How’s your mom?” he turns back to Cruz. “The treatments helping?”
“Yeah, she’s good! Doctors think she’ll be back up and yelling at us all in no time. For now, both my sisters just do all the yelling instead.”
“Sounds about right.”
“How are your kids doing?” Cruz asks my brother. “Alyssa ready to have the next one?”
“Oh, she’s definitely ready. We all are,” Scott says without an ounce of humor. “The world’s a better place when Alyssa’s not pregnant.”
“Oooo, I am telliiiiing…” I taunt and grab my phone, ready to text.
“St. Patrick’s Day,” Scott points at me and I immediately put my phone back on the table and hold up my hands.
Connor leans in, “What the hell did you do on St. Patrick’s Day?”
I shake my head. “Not important. Disregard.”
He looks like he wants to ask more but timing is really in my favor tonight, and it’s at that moment that their names are called up for karaoke. I give him an exaggerated, toothy grin as he stands up and walks to the stage with Chris and Scott. Cruz lets me know he’ll bring some waters over for us and then returns to man his post at the bar. Then, the amazing psychedelic guitar intro from Sweet Emotions plays over the PA speakers.
I look on with pure, feel-good nostalgia washing over me to see all three of them standing up there together. Scott joins them in the opening chorus but knows enough about his terrible singing to stand away from the mic, Connor’s standing a little rigid at the one mic, while Chris is of course grabbing the other mic and playing the charismatic front man to a tee.
“Those guys are pretty good.” A wet, unwelcome breath is way too close to my ear and soon enough, an equally unwelcome man is sitting next to me at the table. “Are you friends with those guys?” he slurs.
His breath is only half as appalling as his attire. He’s dressed in a pink polo shirt with the collar popped, khaki golf shorts, and one of those old twine-and-seashell atrocities around his neck. “Yeah,” I politely reply. “That’s my brother and some friends.”
“Why arenchoo drinking? A beautiful girl should always have drink in ‘er hand.”
Oh boy. “I actually don’t?—”
“Hey, we should dance!” He’s officially standing (kind of) and in my personal space now. “D’you wanna dance?”
“No, I’m okay, thank you.”
His eyes are at half mast and bloodshot…he might actually be a little stoned on top of the alcohol. He smiles and nods, then moves his nose towards my neck. “C’mon, let’s dance.”
“No, seriously. Thanks but I think I’ll just?—”
“I’m a good guy, okay? I’ll getchu a drink n’everything. C’mon, let’s dance.”
He grabs my hand and tries to pull me out of my seat. I’m about ready to knee him in the juju beans before someone stops me.
“I’m pretty sure she made it clear she’s not interested in dancing with you.” Connor’s hand grabs Drunk Guy’s shoulder and spins him around. “So I think it’s in your best interest to leave her alone now.”
“I’m sorry, man, I’m sorry. Is she your girl?”
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
By now, Cruz has shown up to see what’s going on. I chance a peek at the stage; Chris is still singing, but staring over at our table and Scott isn’t even pretending to perform anymore, he just has that scary look in his eyes.
“Hey, buddy, why don’t we call you a ride home?” Cruz asks, moving his large body in front of Drunk Guy in a way that pushes him farther away from me. He deftly maneuvers the man towards the bar to get him a glass of water while he waits for his Uber.
“Are you okay?” Connor asks me. There’s something about the way he handled himself…Scott and Chris typically rely on brute intimidation and don’t get me wrong, it works and I’m grateful for it when I need it. But Connor almost treated it like a business transaction. Drunk Guy needed to leave, and “no” was not an option.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, sadly. Thank you.” Our brothers are approaching, their song over. They’re always there for me, I always feel safe when I’m out with them. But with Connor it’s different…I still feel safe, but it’s in a decidedly un-sisterly way.
I think I need that drink now.