Sin & Salvation (Demigod of San Francisco #3)(9)

“I haven’t been here since I’ve known you,” I murmured, stopping behind my seat and putting my hand on the chair back. “Hey, Mick.”

“Well, how’s things?” he grunted, not looking over. I was the only person he ever said hi to. In his mind, I’d probably forced my friendship on him, and now he just had to roll with the punches.

“Jesus,” Bria said, staring at him. “What’s with the Irish Crypt Keeper?”

“He’s a pillar of the community, what do you mean?” I edged around my seat before pulling it out to sit.

“The whole bar is open, and we’re going to crowd into the corner?” Bria swung her gaze down the seats again before following my lead. An old man with a grizzly beard gave her the stink-eye before flickering and disappearing. “I find myself delighted and mystified by how odd you are, Alexis. Even here, in a place I should be infinitely more comfortable than you—since I’ve made dive bars my thing since I was twenty-two—you out-weird me. It’s shocking.”

I didn’t see how dive bars and out-weirding someone fit together, but let it go.

Liam, an older bartender without a fuck left to give, made his slow way down to us.

“Here’s what else I find shocking,” Bria went on, resting her forearms on the bar like Mick was doing. “You’re dressed in that expensive training gear Kieran bought you, with the glowing skin and shining eyes from all that fancy skin cream and good sex, and yet, you still fit into this place better than I do. I’m wearing a fucking dog collar. I should be the one who fits in here, not you.”

“First, I think you are taking this too personally. Fitting in here isn’t a good thing—”

“Fucking right it isn’t,” Mick muttered. “Shit hole.”

“Second…practice,” I said as Liam reached us. “Lots and lots of practice.” I half smiled at the bartender. “Guinness, please.”

He stopped, turning his gaze to Bria, and waited.

“Jack and Coke,” she supplied.

He started to turn, and guilt ate through me. I put up my finger. “I’ll… I got… I’ll pay,” I muttered. “I’ll pay for this, not Miles.”

“Eh?” Liam squinted one eye at me. “You don’t want to put this on Miles’s tab?”

Bria touched my arm and leaned farther over the bar. “Who is Miles?”

“No, I’ll…” I circled my finger in front of us before pointing at the Guinness tap down the bar. “I got it.”

“We want to put it on Miles’s tab,” Bria rushed to say. “Put it on the tab, just like…normal?” She shot me a questioning glance.

Liam moved his finger back and forth in front of us. “Both?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, I should—”

“Yes, both,” Bria chirped. “Both of us. Miles and I go way back. Just like”—I got another questioning glance— “you guys?”

Liam nodded and continued to turn, making his slow way back down the bar.

“We shouldn’t charge it,” I said quietly. “We should pay.”

Bria turned and rested her elbow on the bar, lowering her chin to her fist. Her eyes glittered with mirth. “Well now…that depends. Who is Miles?”

“She rode the boss,” Mick said in a series of grunts. “Liam, I’ll have a shot of Jameson.”

Bria’s eyebrows lifted. “Rode…as in…”

“Shifted. Fucked. Buggered,” Mick said. “Made a bad fuckin’ mistake, at any rate.”

“We dated,” I said, my face flaming. “He had just bought this place when we started dating.”

A slow smile curled Bria’s lips. “You get free drinks…whenever you want…because you screwed the owner? And you didn’t invite me here first thing?”

“He’s a fuckin’ coont,” Mick said in his thick brogue. “Not worth the free drinks.”

“Don’t mind him,” Liam said, reaching us with the Jack and Coke. The Guinness sat under the tap, resting. Liam hooked a thumb Mick’s way. “He’s a fan of the ol’ gargles.” He shook his thumb at his mouth and leaned back like he was drinking.

“I’m a fan of the ol’ fecking whiskey.” Mick spread his hands wide, growing surlier by the moment. “I’m dyin’ of thirst. Any day, man.”

Liam thinned his lips, the effect giving him a dimple on his right cheek, before turning back.

“Young man, young man, young man,” Mick muttered, and though he’d randomly said it as long as I’d known him, I’d never figured out the context.

“Does Kieran know about this?” Bria asked, indicating the bar at large.

“Yes,” I said, remembering when I’d first seen him in this bar. He’d done his homework.

“You don’t…” Bria moved her finger back and forth above the bar. “You don’t still bump uglies with the owner, right?”

“No.” I huffed and smoothed my hair. “He’s just an ex-boyfriend who wants to lord his good fortune over the harlot who broke up with him. These are pity drinks, as far as he’s concerned.”