Melt (Steel Brothers Saga 4)
“Jonah Steel.”
“Met another Steel in here a while back. Funny name, too.”
Funny name… “Talon Steel?”
“Yep, that’s the one. Guy was dressed a lot like you, expensive boots and all.”
“He’s my brother.”
“Nice guy. Had a big chip on his shoulder. Something was eating him but good.”
The geezer had no idea.
“Good man, though. He sent me a case of this great bourbon called Peach Street.”
This guy must be something else if Talon had sent him a case of his favorite whiskey. “If you’ve got a case of that at home, what are you doing in this dump?”
“Oh, this place gets to be home when you come in enough. You never know who you’ll meet in here. I come in about once a week and let Lucky over there pour me a glass of rotgut, and I watch the people coming in and out of this place. You’d be surprised who ducks through that door.”
“Someone like me, you mean?”
He nodded. “I haven’t seen boots like those in here since your brother. But believe it or not, we get a wide variety of different people in this little dive. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. I’ve been widowed now for a while.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Here, let me buy you another drink.”
“I’d be obliged.” He signaled to Lucky. “I’ll have another.”
Lucky sent a drink sliding across the bar. Then he set my “martini” in front of me. “Take it slow,” he said. “Shit’s a little rough around the edges.”
I took a sip. Stung my throat. Smooth this was not.
“So if my brother sent you a case of Peach Street, you must have done something pretty amazing to earn it.”
Mike shook his head, laughing. “Nope. Just talked to him. He was going through a rough patch.”
Rough patch. Seemed to belittle what my brother had been through. But I didn’t know exactly what he’d told Mike, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to elaborate.
“He’s doing better now,” I said.
“Good to hear. Ever hook up with the girl he talked about?”
“If you mean Jade, then yes, he did.”
“I’m not sure he gave me her name. Good for him. A good woman is a man’s better half, I’ve always said. I sure do miss my Melanie.”
My heart thumped. “Melanie?”
“Yup. My wife’s name was Melanie. Melanie Rose Mitchell, before she met me. The prettiest thing around. I sure do miss her.”
“Melanie,” I said again.
“Yep, that was her name.”
“Beautiful name.”
“For a beautiful woman. Never met a woman with a bigger heart either. We never had much. I wish I’d been able to provide for her better. But even with as little as we had, she was always ready to lend a hand, always willing to give to someone who had less. Woman was a saint.”
“She sounds wonderful.”