He pulled it open and was blasted by a wall of testosterone. Men, many of them big and in worn jeans, leaned on the bar and tipped beer to their lips. There were a few women, mostly at the tables, but this collection clearly had nothing to do with Hank Martinsburg.
A blonde waitress sailed by. “You looking for the bachelor party, sweetie?”
He nodded.
“Thought so.” She smiled. “It’s in the private room in the back. Just go straight through until you bump into a wall.”
“Thanks. I bet I’m up to that.” He flashed the pearlies.
She grinned. “You’re so adorable. Oh damn, why do all the cute ones have to be gay?”
“Well, darling, I’m not sure if all the cute ones are, but this cute one sure is.”
“Oh, baby, I could eat you for dessert. Have fun.” She hurried to one of the busy tables.
Jimothy made his way through a mass of bodies, getting all kinds of glances, to the back wall as she’d said to. Sure enough, there was a door standing slightly ajar and the sound of voices and music coming from inside. He walked in.
Unlike the beer and brawn scene outside, the private room held a far more varied group and a lot better dressed. There was an older contingent that might be Hank’s father’s associates and friends, a lot of intellectual-looking white-collar types, and a number of younger guys like Hank clustered near the small bar. Notably, there was no Rick Ronconi in the crowd, so Jimothy took a breath and made his way toward Hank.
As he got close, Hank looked over and his face lit up. “Jimothy, hi. So glad you made it. Come meet everyone.”
“Everyone” turned out to be more guys than Jimothy could keep track of on a single introduction, but Hank took hold of one guy’s arm and thrust him forward. “And this is Mark, who’s a good friend of Alice’s and mine. Mark works with Alice at the university.”
Jimothy shook Mark’s hand. He was a big, good-looking, blond guy with what seemed like a diffident gentle manner since he glanced at his sneakers before meeting Jimothy’s gaze.
He said, “Hi.”
Jimothy smiled. “You must be a physicist like Alice.”
“Uh, yes. And you cut hair.”
Jimothy struck a pose with a hand behind his head. “Another profession upon which the future of humanity rests.”
Mark blurted out a laugh. “Exactly. I don’t see people standing in line to make appointments with me.”
The comment was cute and kind, and Jimothy gave Mark a genuine smile.
An arm holding a glass of what looked like dry vermouth on the rocks thrust into Jimothy’s line of sight, and he looked at Hank who said, “I seem to remember dry vermouth is your favorite.”
“Why thank you, kind sir.” He accepted the glass and took a sip. “Are you all rehearsed and ready to go?”
“Yep, it went smoothly with only one temper tantrum from the flower girl.”
Mark said, “Excuse me. I’ll be back.”
As casually as he could manage, Jimothy asked Hank, “Did Alice’s father show up?”
Hank nodded. “He sure did. But didn’t you already know that? Alice said you had to have been responsible for his clothes and hair.”
“Um-hm, but when last I saw him, he didn’t commit to attending, although I thought he might. This isn’t a man who spends money easily, and I cost a lot.” Jimothy laughed.
“Amazingly, he went from being kind of tentative to full-on life of the party. He told stories and charmed everyone. My parents had always heard from Alice and me that he was a reclusive and difficult man. They must have figured we were lying to them. Alice was pretty astounded the whole evening.”
Jimothy raised his eyebrows and sipped his vermouth. “I imagine the truth lies somewhere in between difficult and charming.” He glanced at Hank and then back to his glass. “I’ll bet Rick was surprised too.”
“Yeah, he was surprised his dad showed up, but Rick didn’t stay for dinner, so he missed the real floor show.”
Jimothy tried not to frown but didn’t totally succeed. “I’m surprised he didn’t stay.”
“Yeah, me too. I wonder if he was disappointed not to get to walk Alice down the aisle.”
Jimothy sipped thoughtfully and said, “It’d make sense, wouldn’t it? I mean, I know he really wanted his father to be there and played a role in talking him into it, but since he’s been the one to do everything for Alice, he must have felt some let down too.”
“Probably. But I’ll tell you, Alice about passed out when her father cornered my father and insisted that he pay for half the reception. My dad told him Rick had already done that and Rich, uh, Mr. Ronconi insisted he wanted to do it and wrote a check on the spot.” Hank shook his head. “Alice didn’t know how to react. She’s so used to being pissed at her father, she could barely figure out how to thank him. She finally did though.”
Suddenly, Mark appeared beside Jimothy holding a three-quarters full bottle of dry vermouth.
Jimothy glanced and laughed. “Wow, are you planning on some serious drinking this evening?”
Mark blushed and stammered, “Uh no, I mean, I got it for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, I heard Hank say it’s your favorite, and the bartender didn’t have a lot, so I commandeered what he did have.”
Jimothy pressed a hand to his chest. “Aren’t you sweet. Thank you so much.” He held out his glass for a refill.
Mark poured the golden liquid into his glass with a shy smile. He really is cute.
Jimothy cocked his head. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
Mark shook his head. “I’m just as happy with white wine and I don’t want to take any away from you.” He held up his other hand that held his wineglass, and Jimothy clicked against it. Just as he raised the glass to his lips, he glanced across the crowded room and locked eyes with Rick who stood just inside the door of the private room.
Jimothy’s lips turned up in an instant smile, but then his brain registered how the tableau must look, complete with cozy toasts, and heat crept across his cheeks, followed by anger at his own stupid reaction, which turned the heat in his cheeks to two dots of flame, all in a matter of seconds.
Mark looked confused and glanced over his shoulder just as Hank broke out in a big smile and rushed across the room. “Rick!”
Mark said, “Who’s that?”
“Uh, Alice’s brother.”
“Oh right. Alice has told me a lot about her brother. He sounds like a great guy.” He cocked his head. “But she’s always joking about him coming off like Sasquatch with his overgrown hair. This guy looks great. Hell, he’s downright handsome.”
Another cascade of emotion washed through Jimothy, starting with blazing jealousy that some other guy was admiring Rick, followed by more fury because he didn’t want to react that way and didn’t seem to have any control over it. “I cut his hair.”
“Jesus, you weren’t kidding about being essential to the future of humanity.”
“What? Oh, thanks.” He couldn’t pry his gaze off of Rick’s face. Mark was right. Rick looked delicious. His hair and beard styling not only made the admirer appreciate his high cheekbones and strong jaw, they let the eye travel down over his tall, powerful, but lean body—the shoulders, the waist, the lovely bulge that the slim-fitting black jeans showed off.