She Effin' Hates Me by Scarlett Savage

Author:Scarlett Savage
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781628739169
Publisher: Skyhorse
Published: 2014-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

Buddy stared at her for a moment and then finally broke into a huge grin.

“Boy, you really are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“I shudder to admit it,” Suzanne grimaced, “but there it is.”

“So, why don’t you tell me what you know?” Buddy said amiably. “And, just out of curiosity, why you know it, so I can set about denying it.”

“It just struck me,” she began slowly, tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair, “as, well, awfully out of character for someone like you to get caught serving booze to little girls.”

“Why?” Buddy asked, sincerely surprised. “Your mother has told you any number of times how many skirts I chased, what an absolute pig I am . . . Sometimes I’d get me some action in the backseat of my Jeep in the alleyway of the restaurant, between shifts. That’s how much of a horny bastard I was. I . . .”

“Okay, okay, we all know that if it moved, you tried to mount it.” She held up her hands, fending off the details. “Go on, be proud of it, be a guy if you have to. Just don’t make me have to hear about it—that’s practically incest. But, that’s not why I thought it was weird.”

“Well, then,” he repeated, “why?”

“Because, as you said, Daddy loved the ale, and the cognac, and he ran the dining room, and therefore the bar. Most of the time, you were in the kitchen or in the office.”

Just talking about it brought back memories so dear a fine mist appeared in his eyes. He bit his lip until they subsided. Ever since they’d lost the pub, he’d tried as hard as he could not to think of O’Shenanigan’s. But how, he often asked himself, do you not think of the happiest time of your life? “Yeah . . . most of the time . . .” Buddy kept his voice casual, wondering where she was going with this.

“Sometimes when it was slow,” Suzanne went on, “you’d take your paperwork out into that circular table in the corner, remember?” She stopped for a moment, looking at him, smiling, remembering. “That was Buddy territory, when there were no customers. You’d sit there, with a big ol’ rack of lamb and a Guinness. Or the pub-pub platter and a Guinness.”

“Pub-pub platter.” The memory flooded back to him so fully he could smell it. “Let me see, that was mushroom caps, potato skins, curly fries, and a cup of Irish stew. Chef Fred, he was a genius. Best working suppers of my life.”

“You weren’t behind the bar often.” Suzanne crushed out her butt, stood up, and began to pace around a little, in full-on Nancy Drew mode. “In fact . . . actually, no, I’m sure. I’m absolutely sure that I can’t recall seeing you there at all. You used to joke you were nervous about all those hanging glasses; something about being a bull in a china shop, I think.”

“Well, sure I was nervous.” Buddy admitted.

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