“You won’t be. I actually do have to hire someone soon, before the babies are born. You’d save me from interviewing people.”
I run my finger around the rim of the glass and shake my head. “How do you know I’d be any good at the job?”
Josh laughs. “Can you pour drinks? Take orders to the kitchen? I know you bartended before at swankier places than this. Most of our drink orders are beer and straight whiskey. It’s not that complicated.”
The kindness Josh always gives is welcome but unsettling. I’m not used to it, and I’m sure as shit not used to family doing favors for each other. Hell, my own mother started charging me rent the day I turned sixteen and could legally get a job.
I look around the bar. It’s seven o’clock on a Wednesday night, and it’s starting to fill with regulars. Located on the outskirts of Summer Hill, The Mill House is home to both locals and those coming from the neighboring towns and gets a fair deal of customers coming off the highway.
It’s definitely not as busy as the bars I worked along the boardwalk back home, but it’s busy enough to maintain a steady cash flow and give me something to do.
“There’s an apartment above the bar,” Josh starts. “It’s been empty since Melissa and I got married. She didn’t want to live above the bar.” He chuckles. “It’s yours if you take the job.”
“I can’t—”
“Yeah, you can.” Josh tosses the dishcloth into the sink and comes over, still on the opposite side of the bar, and grabs the bottle of whiskey. He pours more in my glass and then some for himself. “I don’t think I ever told you this,” he starts and downs his shot of whiskey. “When I was a kid, I begged Mom and Dad for a baby brother. And then when I found out I actually had one, I was elated. But it didn’t turn out the way I hoped, and I’ve always regretted that.”
I divert my eyes to the bar top, studying the many nicks and scratches in the wood. Total honesty and baring my emotions isn’t something I’m used to either.
“Dad was an asshole, I know,” Josh goes on. “But now that he’s gone, I feel we need to take what remains of this family and hold it together. Stay. Dakota is excited her uncle is finally here. She wants to get to know you.”
“Right. I suppose I could stay for a while.”
“Consider this a fresh start. I know you could use one.”
I meet Josh’s eyes again, wondering how the hell he knows that. And then I remember the last time I was arrested, someone paid my bail but I never knew who.
“That was you?”
Josh gives a half-smile and turns, washing out his glass. “I can’t let my little brother rot in jail, now, can I?”
“I’ll pay you back. I have the cash.”
He shakes his head. “No way. You can, however, work it off.”
I finish off the rest of the whiskey, smiling as I shake my head. “When do I start?”
I’ve always led a transient style of life, moving from place to place, never fully settling down. I’d go where the work took me, which usually required traveling anyway. It’s not that I never wanted to settle down, I did, but I never found a place that felt like home.
Some nights, after a long day full of chasing, running, and usually a side of breaking and entering, I’d lay alone in whatever motel bed I was staying in for the time being and think of life. Of the big picture. I’d wonder what it would be like to have visions of the future on the horizon, to get by on hopes and dreams, and not on a day-to-day basis.
I could easily convince myself that wasn’t true, that I went after the high-dollar jobs for the payout in the end, along with the thrill and the danger of course, but if I thought about it, there was nothing I was saving for. Hell, I blew through a decent amount of the cash I got paid. I lived for the moment, not wanting to accept the fact that there was a growing pit inside of me, one filled with darkness, resonating with the pain of never fitting in or feeling like I belong.
Sweat rolls down my brow, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. I take the last box down to the parking lot and head back up to the apartment above the bar. It’s been four years since anyone has lived in here, and while that doesn’t sound long, in theory, the place has its fair share of issues.
Starting with the non-working air conditioner. The morning after I agreed to stay, I flew to the place I was staying in New Jersey and drove back here, Mustang loaded with everything I own, minus the furniture. Not having a home of my own has resulted in a minimalist lifestyle, and I’ve always had the attitude that things are just things and can be replaced. But my car is my most prized possession. It was the first thing I bought when I got my first-ever large payout, and I’ve put in a lot of the under-the-hood work myself. The thing is badass if I do say so myself.
Not having a garage is killing me, and I just arrived back at The Mill House. There is an old barn behind the bar, but it’s full of junk. I plan to clear it out so my car can have shelter, but I’ll get to that later. I’ve been clearing crap out of the apartment all morning, moving my own few things, and have a big order from Amazon coming tomorrow.
I go back up the rickety stairs and into the apartment, and stop in the entrance. The building used to be a mill house back in the day, hence the name of the bar. It’s been a few things over the years before it became the bar my brother bought, but the history has remained despite the many renovations.
The apartment is a decent size for the age of the place and boasts a large floor-to-ceiling glass window in the living room overlooking the river that once powered the mill. It’s dried several feet since then, but the soft sound of running water in the distance is calming.
Through the living room is a kitchen with dark cabinets and stone countertops. A rustic farmhouse table sits in the center, and behind that is a door that leads to the only bedroom and bathroom. Nothing is fancy, but it’s a hell of a lot nicer than places I’ve stayed in the past.
The gentle sound of running water comes in through the open windows, and leaves rustle together with the breeze. The air comes in, welcome against my hot skin. I feel an odd lurch inside of me, almost like my heart skipping a beat the same time my stomach flip-flops. It’s because it’s hotter than hell up here and I haven’t eaten all day. Not because I think with a little TLC this place could become a home.
I spent a few more hours rearranging things until I like the layout, hook up my TV and gaming system, and then move on to the bedroom. Someone knocks on the door and immediately enters, calling my name.
“Uncle Chase!” Dakota’s little voice echoes off the brick walls. “We brought you food!”
Thank God. I ball the sheets I’d just stripped from the bed and leave the bedroom.
“Daddy, it’s hot in here,” Dakota says, making a face.
“Yeah, it is,” Josh agrees guiltily. “The electrician is coming tomorrow. Sorry about that.”
I shrug. “It’s okay.”
“Hungry?” Josh asks, holding up a white CorningWare dish. I can’t see what’s inside, but it smells amazing. “We can eat in the bar.” He looks at his four-year-old and laughs. “It’s closed now, so I suppose it’s okay. It’s better than being in this sauna.”