Rebel Without A Claus

“All right? I was a revelation over there.”

“Clearly you don’t need me to toot your horn!”

“I need you to do something to my horn.”

“Jesus, what have I walked into?” Earl slid our drinks in front of us. “Will you get a room?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Ignore him. He’s had a lot of sugar. He’s getting stupid ideas.”

Earl glanced at him and smirked. “Mind you, if I were thirty years younger…”

“That’s enough,” I said dryly. “Don’t make me call my grandpa.”

The bartender chuckled. “Darlin’ girl, he’s been here for four hours. He’s over there playing poker.”

I rested my feet on the bars of the stool and stood up, using Nicholas’s shoulder to steady me, and scanned the heads for my grandfather.

Sure as hell, there he was. In the corner booth. Playing poker.

“I am not explaining this to my mother,” I said firmly, sitting back down and giving Earl a hard look. “Absolutely not. This is on you.”

“Relax. I’ve been alternating his drinks.”

“Like he doesn’t bring his own flask of liquor.”

Earl paused. “What he does with his own liquor is his business. You won’t see me getting between a man and his whiskey.”

Yeah. It was only whiskey.

“What food are you serving?” I asked him, diverting the conversation from my liquor-loving grandfather. The less I knew about his activities, the less I had to lie to my mom later on. “I’m hungry.”

Nicholas shook his head. “I knew you were hungry.”

“Shh,” I said, patting his shoulder.

“Whatever you want,” Earl said. “Pearl’s working late for the tourists.”

Ah.

Pearl was in the kitchen.

His wife.

No, don’t laugh.

Earl and Pearl was not a joke. They’d met in high school when Pearl Langstaff had moved at seventeen from Alabama, and the way Earl tells it, she fell in love with him at first sight.

Pearl, naturally, insisted it was the other way around. Given the way Earl still looked at her, I was inclined to believe her over him.

Either way, whoever fell at first sight, it was clear to see that their love was just as real today as it was all those years ago. They’d never had a family, and their position as owners of the only bar in town meant they were a little like everyone’s parents.

Or grandparents, depending how old you were. For me, they were like the fun aunt and uncle who bought you a drum set for Christmas and glitter for your birthday just because they knew it would piss off your parents.

They drove unruly, overzealous twenty-one-year-olds with no sense of their liquor limits home. They organized the best fucking parties, whether they were sweet sixteens or anniversaries, wedding parties or even funeral wakes. They always, always made sure everyone was looked after, even if it meant staying at work later than usual for the vendors who just wanted to unwind after they’d closed for the evening in this weather.

It didn’t hurt that Pearl made the best damn burger this side of the USA-Canada border. Maybe the other side, too.

I would die on that hill.

I plucked the cardboard menu from its holder and opened it out to peruse it. I knew this thing like the back of my hand, but there was a strange kind of comfort in reading it anyway. I knew every flavor of the wings and the slider variety platter. I knew all the fries from waffle fries to steak fries to wedges, and all the side salads and sauces and snacks.

And with how hungry I was, I wanted to eat them all.

I gave my order to the other barmaid. For all his heckling, Nicholas also ordered food, although he ordered quite a bit more than I did.

A large cheer followed by the familiar cackle of my grandfather came from the corner.

Nicholas glanced over. “I guess he’s winning.”

“Dear God. I’m not driving him to the liquor store this time. I’m too tired.”

He chuckled and sipped his beer. “Is that a habit of his?”

“Drinking or poker?”

“I was thinking of making you drive him to the liquor store, but any of those options works.”

I sighed. “My parents won’t take him and when my sister isn’t heavily pregnant, I’m the only other person who can drive him. Understandably, my mom tore up his license.”

“Is Verity pregnant often?”

“Thank God, no. If she does it a third time, I’m leaving the country.”

Nicholas laughed. “How’s your dad feeling?”

“Well, Mom texted an hour ago and said he tried to climb out the bedroom window, so I’d say he’s doing better.”

“Why was he trying to climb out of the bedroom window?”

“I’m guessing it’s because he wants to be Santa but he’s not allowed. Unless there’s suddenly a biological war and flu is the weapon of choice, of course.”

“I can’t say I’d be too interested in a bio war.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” I replied. “But the option is always there. I suppose you’d need something a bit more deadly than the flu, though. Weaponized smallpox would work to wipe people out on a mass scale.”