Whiskey and Country

8

NICHOLAS

Jace and I walked into the crowded building, skipping the line of people on the sidewalk. After exchanging a few words with the bouncer, a guy we knew from high school, I pushed through the crowd to reach the bar, hoping Tuck had already ordered us a round. One of his special lady friends had been working as a bartender here for a couple of months, so he’d spent a lot of his free time in this establishment.

The deafening music pounded in my skull.

These days, we only frequented bars whenever Tuck was on the prowl. And for all I knew, this week, he wasn’t. He was seeing someone. Not that it would last, because Tuck didn’t do relationships, but he never dated more than one girl at a time. He had principles. Those were his exact same words.

Just when I was about to round the corner, Jace clutched my elbow and pulled me back. I turned my head to watch him with questioning eyes.

“What?” I yelled, to be heard over the music.

“We’re not going there.”

I scanned the dark space around me, not quite understanding. When I brought the line of my sight back to my friend, he was pointing to the staircase blocked by a velvet cord.

“There?” I asked, following his eyes.

Jace nodded, adjusting his cuffs. “Come on, man. Let’s go.”

He motioned me forward, then halted and exchanged a few words with the security guarding the stairwell.

“How? What’s going on?” I asked. We weren’t the type of guys usually invited to the VIP section of the hottest bars in town for no reason.

Jace prodded me between the shoulder blades as we made our way upstairs.

The room above, a mezzanine opening to the dancefloor underneath, was basked in low light. A circled bar in the middle surrounded by velvet plum couches and booths, leather chairs, and artworks in shades of purple and violet hanging over black walls. Thick dark curtains were pinned back, in case added privacy was requested. The eclectic decor, almost seizure-worthy due to flashing pink and white beams of lights coming from the DJ booth below, worked. For some reason.

Beside me, Jace shrugged when he understood my silent question.

From where we stood, we had a perfect elevated view of the DJ on the first floor as she mixed songs, the patrons intoxicated with the upbeat and rhythmic music.

Too busy taking in the VIP section of the bar, I failed to notice the people sitting around in a booth, a server nearing them with a tray full of shot glasses and beer bottles.

Before I noticed him, Tucker jumped up from his seat to meet us.

“You made it.” His grin was wide as he pulled me into a hug. “Don’t make the guys wait.”

Thanks to the padded booths and curtain panels, the music from downstairs was muffled enough so we could hear each other. Even if it reverberated through my skull, the effect wasn’t crippling from up here.

I frowned. “The guys?”

“Yep. Jace invited the team. Well, some of them. We haven’t spent time with the Busters players in a long time. And since it’s your last night in town, we thought this called for a celebration.”

I tilted my head to face Jace. “You did that?”

“Hamilton asked to join when I called him last month for the tickets. I thought it could be fun. And he invited the team, so—”

Tucker harrumphed. “What did you have to sell to rip the leash? A kidney? Or your soul?” he teased Jace.

Our friend shook his head. Tuck would never let it go. I refused to get in the middle of whatever this was. “Nothing. Pam’s sister is in town. She was more than happy to have me out of the house for the night.”

“No woman tonight?” I asked, watching Tuck, who caught the eyes of the bartender. He never spent his Saturday nights by himself. Rarely ever.

He moved behind us and swung his arms over our shoulders. “Bros before hoes. Always.”

Barry Hamilton rose to his feet when we neared one of the booths. “Nick,” he greeted me with a handshake. “Glad we were in town for your last night. Grab a seat. We ordered booze, shots, snacks, plenty for everyone. More people are coming soon.”

The five other guys around the table, all about Tuck’s size—which meant tall and broad—extended their fists to bump mine. Most of them I already knew because we had met on other occasions.

Ted Duffy, the goalie who had bought the two-story condo unit, was last. “How’s it going, man? Can’t wait to move into that building of yours. I’ll be honest and say I was upset when Jace told me you wouldn’t oversee the construction anymore. Hamilton vouched for you, and it was enough for me. The first time we met, I loved your guts. I trust you, man.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, well. It wasn’t the plan. Things happened.”

“No worries, man. Jace told us everything. Sorry about that kid. I’m a single dad. If anything ever happened to my kids, I’d leave too. Get the hell away. Change of scenery. Change of life.”

“Thanks,” I said with a stiff nod.

And that was how I spent my final night in Chicago with a bunch of professional hockey players and their guests, goofing around and having a good time, the pressure of the last couple of weeks dissolving with every passing hour.

A little before midnight, Jace came to me and pulled me aside. “Nick, I gotta go.”

I fished my phone from my back pocket to look at the time. “Everything all right? It’s still early. You sure?”

My friend sighed and looked down. “Yeah, you know Pam, she’s pretty—”

“Fuck, you have a curfew?” Tucker asked, joining us, busy zipping his fly and adjusting his shirt. Where the hell did he come from? I pushed the thought away. I didn’t need those images in my head. He shook Jace, holding both of his shoulders. “Tell me you’re shitting me. Please. I need to hear those words. I’m begging you. For once.”

Jace’s face flushed, and he jerked himself away from Tucker’s grip, his shoulders slumping.

“Sorry, guys. Married life. One day you’ll understand. We both compromise. That’s the way it works.”

“Pussy-whipped,” Tucker said under the guise of a cough.

“It’s okay,” I told Jace. No, I wouldn’t get in the middle of this. “Thanks for getting all these guys to join tonight. It was fun. I’ll miss this,” I said, flicking my hand at the room.

“We will too. Miss you, I mean,” Jace said. With his thumb, he traced the length of his eyebrow. “Well, I should get going. I’ll try to see you tomorrow before you leave, okay?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

Silence fell between us. Loaded and unsaid.

The three of us had been friends for over two decades. We grew up together. Messed up together. Experimented life together. And right now, neither of us could certify if we’d live in the same city ever again. Now that Jace—hopefully—was happily married and I was going away for only God knew how long, nothing would ever be the same.

I felt the change in the air. And I bet my friends did too.

“You sure about leaving?” Jace asked.

“Yep. Still going. Everything is set.”

He swallowed a couple of times before he could speak again. “It will be weird. Not having you around. But”—a smile spread over his lips—“I hope you have the time of your life. I mean it. You deserve to enjoy your journey. Or whatever it is. Hey, you turned down a fucking load of cash for this. It better be worth it.”

“I hope so. It will. It sounds crazy, but I’m supposed to do this.”

The same way he did earlier, Tucker moved behind us and slung his arms over our shoulders, pulling us to him.

“Motherfuckers, it was an honor to spend Nick’s last night in town together. Now he and I will return to those gentlemen while you crawl back to your executioner,” he said to Jace, who let out a soft laugh.

“See you, guys.” Jace walked away, waving at us as he reached the staircase.

Tuck’s chuckle vibrated through me, his arm still around my neck.

“Jace marrying that bitch is the best thing that could ever happen to you,” he added, his finger poking my chest.

“Is it?” I teased.

“Don’t mess with me. Let’s get some shots to forget you ever said that.”

Derek’s Bucket List – 11. Nick: Knowing I can always count on my friends