The Easy Way Out

22

The usual loud throng packed Booty's Sports Bar. While Lou restocked bottles on the shelf behind the bar, he watched Rachel working a cocktail shaker. "Be worth ordering one of those just to see you shake it again."

Seated on a nearby stool, a brawny jock wearing a Steelers baseball cap nodded in agreement.

Rachel was in no mood to play.

Lou raised his volume. "I'm thinkin' of goin' with bikini tops next summer."

"You prob'ly wanna shave your back first," Rachel shot back.

Her comeback elicited a raucous laugh from the guys at the bar. Lou withered and crept away, red-faced. Wearing a self-satisfied grin, she poured the cocktail into a martini glass then added a lime wedge. "Cosmo's up, Teagan," she called.

Rachel's stomach flipped when Uncle Geo weaved through the crowd and claimed an unoccupied bar stool. She welcomed him with a rehearsed smile and wiped the bar. "What can I get for you?"

"Campari and soda with a twist," Geo replied, surveying his surroundings.

The jock leaned closer to Rachel. "Bet you don't make a lot of those. Except for maybe when the bingo bus rolls up outside."

His buddy snickered. Rachel ignored the comment. The amusement ground to an abrupt halt when Alex muscled in beside Geo, towering over the jock and his buddy.

She'd seen men like him before. There was only one reason they existed, and that was to do damage. He sure as hell hadn't come to order a banana daiquiri.

The old man turned to the jock. "My friend, Alex, he enjoys a good joke. Go on. Say something funny."

The two men stared into their beers, neither saying a word.

Rachel set the Campari on the counter and twisted a lime peel.

Geo raised his glass in a toast. "Sas efcharisto."

"L'chaim," she responded.

He sipped his drink, his cold eyes following her.

Alex growled, "Let me know if they got anything else funny to say. I'm gonna get some wings."

The jock brought the beer to his lips and got drenched when Alex threw a stiff forearm into his back hoping to provoke a brief, violent confrontation. With visions of an ambulance ride in his future, the jock swallowed his pride, kept his head down, and his mouth shut.

"You say something?" Alex leaned closer.

Neither man moved a muscle.

Alex shoved him again, this time harder. "Come on. Get up."

"Hey, hey." Rachel leaned across the bar, interceding. "Let's calm down, guys."

Alex gave her a glare that read, "Or what?"

"He's sorry." She wiped up the puddles of beer on the bar. "Aren't you?"

The jock nodded.

"Tell him you're sorry."

He glanced at the old man out of the corner of his eye. "Sorry. I didn't mean nothing by it."

"See?" she said to Alex. "We're all good."

"You good, Geo?" he asked.

The old man shrugged, his wrinkled mouth turned downward.

Alex slowly back-pedaled. "Let me know if they got anything else funny to say. I'm gonna get some wings."

"A couple napkins for Mr. Comedy over here," Geo sneered.

Rachel handed a short stack of bar napkins to the jock and his companion who began blotting up the beer.