Chapter 8
DUCK
We’ve decided that she’s going home tomorrow.
Mel will drive to the city early in the morning to return her rental and catch a flight back to Chicago.
She offered to cook supper as a thank you for me letting her stay for another night.
While I would normally never turn down one of her meals, tonight is for celebrating with friends.
The staff push a bunch of tables together; the twelve of us fill one side of the dining room of the Lonesome Grill.
Mason is shooting daggers at Mel. Kat and Wylie are killing themselves trying to keep their faces straight.
Everybody else looks confused, which I personally am enjoying the hell out of.
I always plan the fuck out of everything.
My announcement is going to send them all over the edge, but it’s important to keep my guys on their toes.
Once everyone is seated, I stand, holding my beer. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Melissa Prescott and Duck Clifford. Cheers,” I say, taking a swig.
Mason and Tolk choke on their drinks. The club’s prospects, Smitty and Joker, freeze, unsure of whether or not I’m joking. That’s fair; most people assume I don’t have a sense of humor. The three women at the table stare at Mel with wide eyes, measuring her up.
Mel, on the other hand, raises her wine to toast me back and then grins at them all.
Mason is the first to speak. “What the fuck, Duck?”
“You know that I was on an anniversary cruise, celebrating with an old navy buddy. Melissa was in the wedding party too. When they renewed their vows, we decided to join in on the fun.”
“Is she really the one who gave you your nickname?” Mason asks.
“Nope,” Mel says. “Like I told you, I’m the reason. But I’m not the instigator.”
“Does this mean we’re finally going to hear the story?” Tolk, the Lost Souls’ road captain, asks.
“No!” I yell, cutting my wife off from answering. “It’s one of those “you had to be there” things.” I can live with the nickname, but that story was embarrassing twenty years ago. I’m not resurrecting it now.
“We need to celebrate this. Champagne all around?” Tolk suggests.
“No!” I shout again. “I’m…allergic…to bubbly wine. Anyway, Mel’s staying with me for another day or two before she returns to Chicago and we formalize our plans. I know you’ll all welcome her to Lonesome.”
Kara shocks the hell out of me by getting up and giving me a hug. The guys eventually get off their asses for handshakes and back slaps. We put in our orders and conversation slowly resumes.
“Melissa, what do you do for a living?” Kara asks.
“I’m a chef in Chicago.”
“And you can take a vacation whenever you want? Must be nice,” Mason comments.
I glare at him, but Mel lays her hand on my arm. “I’m between contracts at the moment. I was already off for Josh and Joanie’s cruise, so now I'm just extending my honeymoon.”
“Are you saying that my brother’s supporting you?”
“Of course he is. Duck loves being my sugar-daddy, don’t you, baby?” She stands, wiggles her ass a little, and leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. Then she sits down, leaving that shit hanging out there like she’s serious.
Tolk looks like he’s about to blow a gasket.
Mason is pissed and white lipped as he fights to keep himself from jumping to my defence.
Kara is horrified that her innocent question led to this.
I’m fine with the first two reactions, but Kara is a good kid.
“Relax, people. Nobody’s taking advantage of anybody. ”
“Except sexually. Hopefully,” Kat adds. “Seriously, Melissa, don’t be stupid and pass up a chance to sleep with someone who knows how to handle a motorcycle between his legs. That’s some serious horsepower.”
“Word,” Kara adds, turning Mason’s face beet red.
“I’m definitely not stupid. Am I, sugar daddy?”
I can’t maintain my straight face. “You’re going straight to hell, Trouble.”
“But what a ride.”
Once everybody realizes that she is having fun with them at my expense, things around the table loosen up.
After supper, we move to the bar, where the women hit the tiny dance floor and the guys slam me with questions about Melissa.
They ease up on the questions when they realized that Wylie knows about her and that he’s not worried about it.
“Guys, they’re on their honeymoon. Cut them some slack,” he says.
He doesn’t have time to say more because Lucy Springfield, half of our husband and wife cooking team at the restaurant, bursts into the bar from the parking lot door. “Ricky collapsed when he was taking out the garbage!”
Everybody springs to action. Tolk, a certified state park ranger with a Search and Rescue specialization, and Picnic’s partner Lindsay, a veterinarian, rush outside.
As the two people in town with the most medical training, they’re the best ones to offer help.
Jules, one of our waitresses, and Kara take care of Lucy.
Kat and Melissa move to an empty table on the far side of the room.
“Do whatever you have to do. We’ll stay out of your way,” Melissa says.
Ricky’s conscious. Tolk and Lindsay decide to drive him the half-hour to the hospital in Minot rather than wait for an ambulance.
Picnic offers to follow with Lucy in her car.
Wylie takes over behind the bar, and I return to the restaurant to ensure the kitchen gets closed and locked.
I come back to check on Melissa a couple of times.
The first time, she’s having a discussion with Kat; she smiles at me across the room before she waves me away.
The second time, she’s involved with something on her phone.
An hour later, things have calmed down. We get a call from Tolk saying that Ricky’s been admitted and Lucy is spending the night. I finish in the restaurant and finally have a minute to talk to Mel.
She holds up her hand. “Two minutes,” she says. “What’s your email address?”
When I tell her, she signals me to wait again. “One second.” Then she smiles and puts her phone on the table. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to be here a while.
I need to talk to Mason about closing the restaurant for a few days.
We can transfer some of the waitstaff to the bar, but everyone else is going to be out of work for a while.
” I don’t mind the logistics of planning it, but the Lonesome Bar and Grill is a big employer in town.
We have over twenty people on staff. Shutting half of it is going to have an impact on a lot of families.
“Close the restaurant? Why?”
“Ricky’s our cook. We can’t ask Lucy to work double shifts while her husband is in the hospital. No cook, no restaurant.”
“I’m a cook, Duck.”
“In Chicago. And you’re flying back there tomorrow morning.”
“As of two minutes ago, I’m licensed in North Dakota with a valid state Food Handling Certificate. I sent it to your email. If you have a printer, I can start immediately.”
“What are you talking about, Trouble?”
“I’ll be your temporary chef until you find somebody else. It’s the least I can do while you’re helping me out.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. “I can’t ask you to do that, Mel.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Besides, what else am I going to do while I’m on vacation?
Watch talk shows and day drink?” She pats the chair beside her, so I sit.
“Obviously, I don’t know your menu and I’ll be on my own, so you’ll have reduced service for a few days, but we can do this.
It’ll keep things running till you find another replacement. ”
This is good. Really good. I call Mason over and explain Melissa’s offer. His eyes narrow. “This is a grill, not some fancy restaurant. Can she handle it?”
“Yes,” we say at the same time.
“Give me a couple days to at least try,” Melissa says.
“Show me around the restaurant tomorrow morning, and by noon, I’ll have a menu ready to go.
” When my brother hesitates, she looks him square in the eye.
“I’m not here to screw you or Duck, Mason.
This is literally what I do for a living. Give me a chance, brother-in-law.”
I shake my head. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Absolutely not, sugar daddy.”
“I give up. Mason, yes or no?”
He is not happy, but he carries the same responsibilities that I do. We can’t afford to turn down the help. “Fine. We’ll try it. One day,” he agrees.
After he leaves, Mel turns her stare on me. “Trust me, Duck.”
Like I said on the cruise ship, “I do.”