“How ridiculous! Even I’m not that much of a pansy.” Strand opened the door and motioned her out into the hallway. “Next thing you know he’ll be proposing a city ordinance about the danger of citizens owning spoons.”
* * *
Alex paced from one end of the bar to the other. City hall was practically right down the street. How long could it possibly take to bail someone out when the charges were such obvious bullshit?
“Would you sit? I’m knackered just watching you.” Gabriel rearranged his boots on the table. “That cop knew the charges were dodgy. Her brother will get it sorted.”
“Gabriel?” Connor came into the bar from the direction of the office with Jessa trailing in his wake. “Go ahead and open the doors. If nothing else, it’ll give us something to do while we wait.”
“You’re the boss.” Gabriel grunted as he got to his feet and headed off to man the cage and check IDs.
“Can you handle the bar, Alex?” Jessa touched his arm.
Bartending was the last thing on his mind. Ignoring Jessa, he looked at Connor. Taller, broader, and downright scary looking on some days, Connor Archuleta was the brother Alex had never had. They’d worked together for years. They’d watched each other’s backs when the bar got rough. Hell, they’d even shared women before Connor had settled down with the one he couldn’t live without.
“I know you’re thinking it.” Connor crossed his arms, his default defensive position. “Just say it.”
“How the fuck could Captain Downtown make an offer for the bar and me not even know about it?” The words tumbled out as though he’d been waiting to say them. Which he had been.
“How many times have you told me that I’m the boss? How many times have you told me it was all up to me because it’s my bar? How often do you refuse to make a decision or take a stand or take responsibility because it’s my bar?”
Connor’s words hurt because they were true. Alex retreated behind the counter, but his friend wasn’t done.
“You want to be the shiftless player, remember?” Connor’s tone grew harsh. “No commitments, no promises, no responsibility, nothing but the moment.”
Alex splayed his hands on the counter. Was Connor really right? On the surface it would have seemed so. Alex did defer to Connor. He pushed off decisions, money issues, pretty much anything that resembled responsibility. Before Jessa, before Connor had that person who had truly invested in him, he had confided in Alex. But in reality, that was because Alex had been the only one around.
“Either grow up and be a man or continue to be left out. Your choice.” Connor’s already deep voice slid an octave lower, signaling the emotion his friend would never outwardly show.
Had he ever really stepped up and allowed himself to be responsible for anything? He’d drifted through school without direction, joined the military to make his father happy, resigned his commission because he didn’t like being tied down to someone else’s rules, and then wound up a womanizing bartender. What did he even have to offer someone like Emory?
The truth was staggering. For the first time he allowed himself to admit that he was tired of moving from lover to lover, always looking for the next thing. Not even the next best thing, just the next whatever. He’d enjoyed them. Some more than others, but he had enjoyed them. After it was all over though, he went home to a dark room in a house full of ghosts.
He stood up and walked away from the bar.
The thunder of Connor’s voice shook Alex to his bones. “Where the hell are you going?”
“I think I need to go home.”
Connor took a step toward him, regret etched on his features. “Alex, wait.”
“It’s okay, Connor. I’m not running.” Alex didn’t have words for what he needed to say. “I just need to go home. When Emory gets here, tell her where I am.”
Connor seemed to realize that Alex wasn’t walking out for good. He relaxed just a fraction and nodded. “I’ll tell her.”
“And Connor?” He met his friend’s stoic black gaze. “Thanks.”
A rare smile crossed Connor’s face. “Anytime.”
Chapter Fifteen
Emory approached the A-frame brick house as if there might possibly be a witch inside ready to try and shove unsuspecting children into the oven. The house resembled most of the others in the downtown area. It was long and narrow, sandwiched between its neighbors with no side yard to speak of, had a postage-stamp-sized front yard, and looked nothing like any of the others on the block. The street was old and quaint but also tidy. No garbage cans littering the sidewalks, junk cars parked on the street, or unkempt lawns in sight.