Chapter 5 Noah
Noah
“That’s some bullshit!” Jeret gripped the dish towel that had been swung over his shoulder moments before.
Now, he was twisting the material between both hands as if it were somebody’s neck instead of an innocent towel.
“We’ve been waiting for those permits for months now.
They just don’t want a Juneteenth celebration taking away any of the shine from their week-long Fourth of July festivities. ”
Lance, who sat comfortably in what was now known as his favorite stool at the end of the bar closest to the kitchen, shook his head. “Nah, they just don’t want us spearheading a Juneteenth celebration. Or any other thing that might back up our commitment to working for the community.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you on that one,” Del added.
“Gayla acted like she was on our side during our meeting,” I interjected. “Said they had our applications and just needed to get the final approvals on them. I called her first thing this morning as a follow-up.”
“It’s damn near seven,” Jeret continued. “Way past time they get up out of the office, especially on a Friday. Her ass had no intention of calling you back.”
Just like Serra had no intention of meeting me at the bar last night. I held those words in, feeling the sting of disappointment that I’d battled with all night. Now, though, I was firmly in the realm of being pissed the fuck off. At Serra and the town council.
Which wasn’t a good thing since I wasn’t known to be one of the calmest of the Brothers.
There were the twins: Delano and Delancey Greer.
Del, the former DEA agent turned manager was the brooding and oftentimes solemn one.
At least he used to be before falling for Rylan, his sister’s best friend.
Lance was the former cop with music in his soul and women on his brain.
Lance loved a good laugh at any of their expense, but he was also loyal as hell.
Then, there was Ethan Henley, the former Secret Service agent who once upon a time had a hair-thin temper and was known to kick ass first and ask questions never.
That was the space me and Rock, Rochester Patterson, the professional wrestler turned accountant, lived in as well, so the three of us had instantly bonded at the Grace House for Boys.
Jeret, the former Army Ranger and the only one in the crew who gave Ethan’s green-eyed ass a run for the title of “pretty boy,” was the balance between us all.
He was the steady one, the negotiator, the calmer head.
At least that was the case until you pissed him off, which the council members and many of the others in this town had done a long time ago.
We weren’t related by blood, but since we’d all done something to get us kicked out of our family homes and placed in the Grace House for Boys when we were teenagers, we’d built an unbreakable bond and collectively called ourselves the Brothers.
It was that bond that had saved my life on more than one occasion, which was why I would forever be dedicated to any and everything this group of men decided to do.
“I’ll stay on them,” I said, trying to bring an end to a conversation that would only keep us all irritated.
A state that would undoubtedly jeopardize anyone daring to get out of hand tonight.
“We’re doing the celebration, even if it comes down to just operating inside of the bar and on our parking lot where no permits are required. We’ll make it work.”
“Fuck yeah, we will,” Del said and emptied the glass of whiskey he’d been nursing for the last half hour.
“You and I will probably need to put our heads together to go over a back-up plan. Logistics will need to be reconsidered for all the activities we’re planning.
Because downsizing isn’t an option.” Those last words were accompanied by a scowl that he seemed to wear more often lately.
Something was going on with him, but at Lance’s directive we’d all agreed to wait until he was ready to tell us what it was.
Unless, that something ended up being a situation they needed to help him handle.
Last year, Del and Mal Penning, former member of the town council and Del’s old rival, had gone toe-to-toe and that shit hadn’t ended well. Which was why I’d been the one talking to the council members on behalf of the bar now.
“I’m about to head out,” Del said. “Rylan should be finishing up at the shop, and I want to be home when she gets there.”
“Damn, man, y’all been together for almost six months now, the honeymoon phase should be over,” Rock said. “Tell ‘em, Ethan.”
Ethan shook his head. “Nah, I can’t co-sign that shit. Portia and I are still honeymooning. Well, that is when Dale’s not cockblocking with his spoiled ass.”
Dale was the annoying ankle-biting dog Ethan had used to win his way back into Portia’s good graces after he’d fucked around and let her walk out of his life again.
He and Portia had gotten married on New Year’s Day and were still blissfully happy.
I liked seeing my brothers happy. They deserved that shit.
Me, on the other hand…well, I was just thankful to still be breathing.
“And with that said,” Ethan continued after Rock shook his head, “I’ll walk out with you.”
“You two lucky bastards better be back here bright and early tomorrow to open up. We’ve got two parties on the books,” Lance said.
“I’m in charge of the books, fool.” Del got off his stool and came up behind Lance to put him in a loose headlock. “I know exactly what we have going on tomorrow.”
“Get off of me, punk.” Lance chuckled and easily pulled out of Del’s grip.
Except for their deep sepia complexions, height, and toned builds, the pair looked nothing alike.
But their twin bond was undeniable. I envied it on more than one occasion, hating that I’d been an only child who now had no living relatives that I knew of, to joke around or bond with.
All I had was these guys right here, and lucky for me, they were enough.
They would have to be since the space I’d once upon a time reserved for another type of love had been closed off long ago. Seeing Serra again hadn’t changed that.
A loud crash came from the kitchen and Jeret cursed before going to see what it was.
Del and Ethan headed out the side door to the parking lot where their trucks were, and Lance, Rock and I remained at the bar.
Since Ethan was gone, Rock was taking drink orders.
That left me to help upstairs in the area we called the Skybox Lounge which featured a cigar bar.
As a part of my strategy to diversify our customer base by offering multiple entertainment options, after only a modicum of bitchin’ from Del and Ethan mostly, I’d created a schedule that had started to pay off.
Sunday, Monday, and Thursday nights were reserved for NFL games and hosting all the Fantasy Leagues in the area.
NBA games were on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
College football and basketball, NASCAR, Formula One, and the like on Saturdays.
Wednesdays and Fridays used to have a gap, but last Thanksgiving we’d implemented karaoke on Fridays and that was doing really well.
Lance had unofficially taken Wednesday nights to get up on stage and play his guitar until multiple women were about to toss their panties at him.
But I didn’t care what his Cassanova ass said, we weren’t paying him extra for that shit.
“Hey, you find out what’s bugging him yet?” I asked Lance when Rock had moved down the bar to take orders from the group of women who’d just come in.
He stretched one long arm down the bar top until his finger hooked on the bowl of honey-roasted peanuts and pulled it closer to him. “Nah. You know Del can hold shit for eternity if that’s what he wants to do.”
I nodded and glanced toward two of our servers, who had taken orders and were heading this way to deliver them to Jeret and his staff in the kitchen.
Maxie, Joy and Kasey were working tonight with Shandy and the new girl, Kiko, upstairs.
I had some reports I needed to review in the back but since I’d come out here to chop it up with the guys real quick, I’d probably end up staying out here to lend a hand wherever it was needed.
“He shouldn’t though,” I said. “He knows we’re here and we’ve got his back. He can tell us whatever it is.”
“True. True.” Lance bobbed his head to the beat of whatever song a gorgeous woman, who looked like she should be on a WNBA team, was preparing to sing. “Unless it’s about Rylan. I swear I don’t wanna hear any more about how great it feels to be in love. Him and Ethan can keep that shit.”
I chuckled because that had been a running conversation for those of us who remained single. “You right about that,” I said.
“Hey, Lance,” the woman said as she slid onto the stool Del had vacated moments before. “Hiiii, Noah. You got something special for me tonight?”
My gaze rested on Traneeka Ruckland, an implant to Providence by way of the rich dude who’d brought one of those big new houses by the lake and hired her to be the nanny for his triplets.
For the life of me I couldn’t understand why somebody would buy a family vacation home, then when they got here to use it, hired somebody else to take care of their kids.
People who didn’t want kids shouldn’t have them.
I’d been a believer in that rule for a long ass time, and everyday some other dumbass proved how right I was to do so.