23
Josh
I’m confused, my eyes following Brynn’s to the stage. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”
Brynn doesn’t answer. She just stares, horrified, as Spencer takes the mic from the emcee, addressing the crowd with a seemingly humble smile.
“There’s someone very special here with me tonight.” Spencer runs his hand through his hair, dropping his eyes to the stage for a moment before acknowledging the crowd again. “And I haven’t quite found the right words to tell her how I feel.”
“No,” Brynn moans into her hands. “Anything but this.”
Spencer smiles. “But I think I’ve found the perfect way to tell her exactly what is going on in my heart…using the immortal words of James Blunt.”
The opening bars of a song tinkle through the speaker system, and Spencer begins to sing. His tone matches the falsetto of James Blunt almost perfectly. His eyes close with emotion as he sings about the beauty of the girl he’ll never have.
“Karaoke serenade, eh?” My jealousy of the situation is squelched only by the fact that Brynn looks like she’s going to vomit. “Why the face? I thought you loved grand gestures.”
Spencer begins to walk forward, and the crowd between him and Brynn parts almost perfectly down the middle. I grab for the keg to move it out of the way, but Brynn reaches for me, stopping just short of grabbing my wrist.
“Don’t leave me,” she says between clenched teeth. “Please.”
Spencer begins to sway in time to the music as the emotion in his voice intensifies.
“Hold on,” I tell her, an idea forming.
“Traitor,” she hisses back.
But her voice is drowned out by Spencer, who is now trying to harmonize with the track’s backup vocals as the song transitions to the instrumental interlude.
I duck under the bar as the song hits the final chorus, and Spencer begins to improvise his own vocals.
When he finally reaches Brynn, he stretches out his hand. It’s unclear if it’s his final pose until he flexes his fingers, beckoning her to place her hand in his.
I can see the pleading in her eyes as he hits a final high note, and the song comes to an end. “Sloan,” he says into the microphone. “I just wanted to tell you that I—”
I reach up and clang the bell above the bar, hard and fast.
The ding ding ding drowns out Spencer’s voice, and the curious eyes of the crowd suddenly shift to me.
“Evening, everyone.” My plan was half-baked up until this point. Now I’m improvising. “I…uh…just wanted to say thanks for making it out tonight despite the weather we’re having. And to show my appreciation, I’m buying a round of hurricanes—on the house.”
The tone in the bar shifts from pin-drop silence to a roar of whoops and cheers.
Spencer’s song is long forgotten as the crowd rushes the bar. Candid love declarations are no match for artificial passion fruit and rum.
Sherry presses in beside me, her arm reaching for a tall glass as she eyes the growing crowd. “She better be worth it,” she mutters under her breath.
I already know she is.
The next hour passes in a blur of tiny paper umbrellas.
We run low on rum, but every time we think we’re out, another bottle somehow appears. Another strange coincidence in a town that seems full of them.
As the karaoke wraps up, the emcee puts on a playlist, and the dance floor fills almost immediately. Brynn and Luce jump up onstage, and as they do, Brynn catches my eye. She smiles and takes a notable step away from the edge, as if to say, I’m good, I won’t be falling into your arms tonight, but it’s followed by a moment where she holds my gaze just a little too long as she raises her hands above her head, her body moving to the music, and it makes me think that maybe she wouldn’t mind too much if she did.
“You did that.” Sherry pulls my attention off Brynn and onto a group of men, arms around one another in a huddle, belting out the chorus of “Sweet Caroline” on the dance floor.
“I’m sorry about the free drinks. I’ll work it off.”
Sherry shakes her head. “I know you will. You’ve been working your butt off all week.”
She reaches into the fridge, pulls out two bottles of Bud, pops the cap off one, and hands it to me.
“Who is this for?” I glance around the empty bar, but there’s no one waiting for it. Everyone is dancing.
Sherry holds out the second Bud and clinks it with mine. “The beer is for you. We’re taking a break. The storm seems to have missed us, and that deserves a cheers.” She takes a sip that’s followed by a long, appreciative sigh. “And I wasn’t talking about the drinks before. I was talking about this place. It’s never quite been like…” She doesn’t finish the sentence.
“Like what?”
Her eyes scan the stage, the dance floor, the tables. “Like a community. Everyone together. Or at least it hasn’t for a while.”
That was the thing my dad loved most about Buddy’s. It didn’t matter who you were or what you did, you could come and be a part of something. God, I’ve missed that place. I thought the hole inside me these last couple of years was from losing him, but I think part of it was from losing Buddy’s too. My dad is gone, but Buddy’s is not—and I’m finally willing to admit that I want it back.
Sherry tosses her empty beer bottle into the trash can. “You should ring that.” She nods at the bell hanging above the bar. “It’s closing time, and we should take a break in the weather as a sign to send these bozos home.”
I wait until the end of the song to ring the bell.
There are a few disappointed faces when, instead of announcing another round of free drinks, I yell, “That’s all for tonight, folks. Get home to bed and then come back tomorrow. If you need a safe way home, come and talk to me. Otherwise, good night.” The crowd groans in protest but slowly makes its way out of the bar.
Brynn and Luce are the last of the dancers to jump from the stage. They walk, arms linked, back to their table, where they pull a slumped-over, brooding Spencer to his feet, and the three of them make their way toward the bathroom. As they pass, Spencer points a finger at me. “You, sir, ruined my big finale.”
I dip my head, feeling a little bit of sympathy for the guy. “Sorry about that, man.”
He and Luce continue on to the bathroom, but Brynn changes directions, coming over to the bar, where she pulls out a stool and sits down.
“Good night?” I fill a pint glass with water and hand it to her.
She takes it and draws a long sip. “The best. I haven’t danced that much in my life. I don’t know if you were watching me out there, but I was pulling out some pretty sweet moves.”
“I might have caught a few.”
She nods at the stacks of glassware waiting to be put through the dishwasher. “You were busy.”
I stack another glass on the pile. “Turns out this town likes to drink.”
Brynn taps her temple with her index finger. “Yet another Carson’s Cove tidbit I can tuck away for some undetermined future purpose.” She leans forward over the bar. “When we get back, we should really look for one of those bar trivia nights. One that’s dedicated to Carson’s Cove. I was a force to be reckoned with before we got here, but now I think we could clean up.”
My face must reflect my gut’s sudden jolt of unease because Brynn’s smile disappears. She tilts her head, her eyes studying me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head in an attempt to dismiss the bad thoughts. “Just thinking about home.”
Brynn leans forward again and places her hand on top of mine. “We will get back, Josh. I promise.”
She squeezes my hand before letting go and sitting back in her seat. I load another tray of glassware and push it into the dishwasher. “Yeah, but not by Friday.”
Brynn stares down at her half-empty water glass. “I’ve been thinking about that too. What if we got home on Sunday? Or even Saturday? Is there any possibility that the bar will still be up for sale?”
I shake my head, having already considered every possible scenario. “Probably not. It’s an auction. They’ll price it low to guarantee a sale, and then it will go to the highest bidder. I guess there’s always a chance that person will sell to me later, or that they’ll try to open it and things won’t work out again, but that could take years, and as much as I want Buddy’s back, I wouldn’t want to wish that experience on anyone.”
Brynn opens her mouth, as if she’s about to say something else, but stops as Luce and Spencer reappear from the bathroom.
“Hey, you two.” Luce’s voice is slightly slurred as she slides onto the stool next to Brynn. “Looks like the rain’s let up. I’m going to see if I can sweet-talk someone into giving me a ride back to my farm so I can check on my babies.”
“I’ve got us a way home,” Spencer yells from across the bar. “We can drop you, Luce, if you come now.” He opens the front door and waits.
“You’re not taking your car, right?” I call after him.
Spencer waves me off. “Of course not. Let’s go, ladies.” He disappears out the front door.
Luce nudges Brynn with her arm. “You ready?”
Brynn looks from me to Luce. “Actually, I think I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow.”
Luce leans in close and whispers something into Brynn’s ear. Brynn, in return, turns a deep shade of red before swatting her away playfully.
“Night,” Luce calls to me before following Spencer out.
Brynn busies herself by taking a long drink of water.
“You two seem to be getting on pretty well for archnemeses.”
Brynn smiles into her cup. “I really like her.”
“And him?” I ask, the jealousy from before bubbling up.
Brynn avoids my eyes. “No. But that’s why I stayed to talk to—”
“Hey, Fletch.” Sherry appears from the storeroom. “I’m going to head out in a moment.” She bends down to pick up a knocked-over chair. “You’ll take care of the cleanup?” She grabs two empty glasses from a table and places them on the bar.
“I got it,” I tell her, knowing I’m still making up for my earlier free round. She nods, her eyes settling on Brynn.
“Tomorrow is fine if you’re not able to get to it tonight.” She winks, then bends down and picks up something from the floor.
“Jesus H,” she curses, setting the object down on the bar. “Free drinks, and they still sneak in their own hooch. What is wrong with this town?” The object is a small silver flask.
Brynn slides down the bar toward it. “I think that might belong to Spencer,” she says. “It’s his LA kombucha.”
Sherry picks up the flask, screws off the top, and sniffs. “Kombucha, huh? Is that what he’s calling it? In my day, we called it straight-up moonshine. From the smell of it, I’m guessing this is at least a hundred and fifty proof.” Sherry looks up at me. “He didn’t drive home, did he?”
“No. I asked.”
There’s a gasp from Brynn. I turn and watch as all of the color drains from her face.
“What’s wrong?”
She jumps out of her seat. “He didn’t drive his car here. We took the boat.” She looks directly at me, her eyes wide with panic. “Sheldon said things would get dark. But I didn’t think he’d—”
She doesn’t finish the sentence. She leaves it hanging as she turns and runs out the front door.
“Brynn, wait!” I call, hoisting myself up and over the bar to follow her.
“Fletcher!” Sherry calls out just as I reach the front door. “Be careful out there.” Her sharp tone fades to a waver. “I don’t want to see someone else get hurt again. But I especially don’t want it to be you.”
If she says anything else, I don’t hear it as I run out the door.
I catch Brynn just as she reaches the beach.
“What’s going on?”
“Out there!” She points to a speedboat that’s trying to navigate the still-choppy waters. The shadows of two figures are visible in the moonlight. “I didn’t think he’d take it this far. But now I’m not so sure. He won’t hurt Spencer, but I’m worried about…”
She doesn’t finish the sentence. She turns and cups her hands around her mouth.
“Luce! Spencer!” she screams into the night. But her voice is swallowed up by the waves—and a shriek as one of the bodies falls straight into the water.