Spreadsheets will be the death of me. Isn’t this shit the reason I have a business partner? Luka may be in charge of the financials and that side of things, but the place's day-to-day running is my domain. Unfortunately, that leaves the ordering up to me, my absolute least favorite task. My grumbling must not have been as in my head as I intended because a wadded napkin pegs me in the forehead the next thing I know.
Looking up with an indignant sputter, I find our bar manager, Charlie, cackling as he dries a glass. The death glare I send his way falls flat when he doesn’t even look my way. Alfie is sitting across from him, animatedly telling some story involving too many wildly flailing arm gestures and facial expressions for my current level of patience.
In the month or so since the rainbow-haired nightmare blew into town, I haven’t known a single moment of peace. Between the usual headaches and insanity that come with the day-to-day running of the Brewstillery, I’ve had the added bonus of dealing with Luka grumbling about that damn dumpster and demanding that I “fix it” every chance he gets. To say nothing of the spell she seems to have cast over all the Larson boys. I can’t seem to get away from her.
Speak of the fucking devil. That animated story Alfie was telling his brother that I was trying too hard to ignore? Yeah, I swear it’s like I’ve turned into Scooby fucking Doo at the sound of her name. Alfie says her name, and I can’t help but zero in on it. Suddenly, I find his story fascinating. I refuse to examine the why behind that little obsession that I won’t even admit is an obsession. Nope. She is a thorn in my side right now, and that’s it. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it; thank you very much.
“Yeah, Ol is over there again tonight. Told her I would be over in the morning with breakfast and coffee to help with some of the wiring upstairs,” Alfie tells his brother.
“Oh, that explains why he blew me off earlier. I have that BBQ competition down in Owatonna this weekend and wanted to drag Ollie along to be my pit bitch. Fucker hung up on me before I could even get the question out!” Charlie all but whines.
“Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean the rest of us are here to be your slaves whenever you feel like it. You know that, right?” Alfie shoots back.
“Jesus, you fuckers make me glad I’m an only child,” I laugh, shutting my laptop and sliding over a couple of barstools to land in the seat next to Alfie, giving in and joining their conversation.
“There’s five of us, always someone to beat on and someone to cheer ya on,” Charlie says, whipping his rag toward his brother.
“Yeah, another one to tell Mom on ya, and two more to lock the tattle tale in the closet,” Alfie laughs.
“Let me guess, Charlie to beat up, Donnie to cheer on, Eddie got beat and tattled, then Alfie and Ollie locked Eddie in the closet?” I asked, laughing at the brother's antics.
“Sounds about right,” Charlie says, refilling my mug without me having to ask. After he sets it in front of me, I take a long swig, and an almost awkward silence falls between our little group. I let it linger for another moment before I can’t stand it any longer and give in.
“Okay, I cave. Fill me in. What’s up with the newest pain in the ass in town?” I ask, taking another drink and refusing to look up from my beer like the coward I am.
Beside me, Alfie lets out a loud, exasperated groan as I see him dig in his back pocket out of the corner of my eye. With an eye roll my way, Alfie pulls a fiver out of his wallet and slaps it on the bar. Charlie cackles and pockets it with a cocky, drawn-out “Thank you!”
“What the fuck was that?” I ask indignantly.
“This asshole bet you couldn’t resist asking about Sloan. Goddammit, man, I had more faith in you than that!” Alfie gripes.
“Yeah? How’s Anya?” I snipe back with a knowing grin.
“Annnnd I’m out.” Alfie pushes away from the bar and walks off without another glance at either of us as Charlie and I both double over the bar, laughing. When the two of us settle back down, I can’t help but ask again.
“Seriously, though, what’s the scoop on her? Your brothers seem to have gotten close to her. Any of you know what her plans are?”
“Why do you care so much, boss? I’ve never seen you this worked up over a piece of tail before,” Charlie asks, all pretense of working fleeing as he settles in across from me.
“Piece of tail? Really, Charles?” Luka asks in his cool, judgemental tone as he comes up behind me, leaning against the bar at my side.
“My apologies, Sir. I meant I hath never seen yon kind sir so out of sorts and in a tizzy over a member of the fairer sex in all mine days. The wee young lass doth have a tight grip on his manhood. His peacemaker, his silent flute, his Cyclops, his…” Charlie responds in a horrible, put-on posh British accent, but I cut him off before he can finish that inappropriate comment. Well, further finish it, at least.
“Asshole,” I cough into my mug, trying to cover my laugh with a drink.
“Speaking of yon fair maiden, something is going on over there, and I came down to grab reinforcements before heading over to see what is going on. Is your brother still here?” Luka asks Charlie as he rounds the bar, the three of us making our way out the open garage doors toward the patio and parking lot beyond.
Thankfully, Alfie is still in the lot, watching the scene next door as he texts furiously on his cell. Charlie jogs ahead to his brother, and I hear him say something about calling in reinforcements. Good.
From the look of the absolute knock-down drag-out fight going down out front of Sloan’s place, I think we will need them.