What You Need(23)

“So, how’d you find this place?” Nolan asked Walker.

“A buddy who works for me brought me here.”

“See any action?” Ash asked.

“Not really. It’s not that kind of a place. It’s an old-school neighborhood bar.” He grinned. “Before the neighborhood went to hell.”

I saw movement up by the bar. A couple of women dancing together. Nothing too dirty, but the night was still young. I set my elbows on the table and caught my brother looking at me. “What?”

“What happened that’s brought about this radical need for human companionship?” Walker asked.

“He needs the ritual,” Nolan said.

Before I could ask what the hell that meant, the waitress was back, setting the beer and the mugs in the center of the table. “Anything else?”

Nolan said, “Do you have an extra napkin I can write on?”

“Ooh, lemme guess . . . you’re writing down your phone number for me?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but we’re working on dry-rub barbecue recipes,” Nolan lied smoothly. “Our other buddy is going to Kansas City to compete in the annual men’s barbecue challenge. He’s kind of a dick, so secretive about his special recipe, that we’re trying to figure out the ingredients.”

I choked on my beer.

“Sure thing. But if he wants to win in Kansas City, he’d be better off with a thick, sweet sauce rather than a dry rub. They like it wet down there.”

The sexy way she’d said that and the knowing curve of her lips indicated she hadn’t been fooled by Nolan’s on-the-fly lie. At all.

Nolan grinned at her. “But we do have to make a list, so if you’ve got any kind of paper around, we’d be grateful for it.”

“I’ll see what I can do, slick.”

Ash held his fist up for a bump, which I met. Perfect nickname for our cousin. Ash had already started pouring. He slid the first glass to me. “You need the ritual, man. At first it pissed me off that my friends and family butted into my life.” Ash slid a mug to Walker. “But it turns out they were right. I needed to change.”

“Hence the ritual was born,” Nolan said.

“Jensen was here for it, when you were in Ireland,” Walker said.

Ireland reminded me of Siobhan and why these guys thought I needed this. “I was thinking we’d get hammered and find me a random hookup, not that I’d have to do some dumb ritual,” I said, downing half my beer in one gulp.

“I’ve been there, Brady. I didn’t want to do this dumbass ritual either. I didn’t believe it’d amount to anything.” Ash pointed a cigar at me. “But something will come out of this night that will make your life better. Trust me.”

“How will I know what it is?”

He grinned. “That’s the thing. You won’t know. So you’ve gotta be open to everything.”

I mumbled, “That sounds like a recipe for a night in the drunk tank with a maxed-out credit card.”

The waitress dropped off two sheets of paper and a pen.

“Thanks, doll.”

“Now, as Ash is refilling our mugs, let’s get down to it.” Nolan looked at me and held out a cigar.

I tried to decline the stogie, but Nolan shook his head and said, “Take it.”

Evidently lung cancer was part of my new persona.

I ripped off the cellophane. A rich, earthy scent drifted out and I lifted the cigar to my nose and inhaled.

“Attaboy,” Nolan said. He held out the cigar clipper and snipped off the end. Then he snapped open a Zippo lighter and sparked the tip. I drew in several puffs. It’d been so many years since I’d smoked, I’d forgotten how calming that first hit of sweet smoke was.

Nolan lit cigars all around—Walker was the only one who didn’t light up.

For a few moments we enjoyed our cigars and the icy cold beer as we soaked in our surroundings. I would’ve been content to stay like that for a while longer, but Nolan apparently had a schedule to keep.

“It’s time.”

I groaned.

“You have a choice,” Nolan said. “You can either write the list yourself or read it out loud to all of us.”

“So either way you’ll all . . . know,” I said with a tinge of horror.

Walker clapped me on the back. “Only way to do this. Rip off the fucking Band-Aid, rub some dirt in it and get back in the game.”

“Jesus, Walker. It’s almost like you’re channeling Jensen,” Ash complained.

My youngest brother did love his sports analogies.

I pointed at Ash. “You’ve done this before. You get to play secretary.” Secretary made me think of Lennox Greene.