As Bad As Can Be

“Don’t you try to duck me, Mal,” Dev insisted, his voice rising. “I know you better than that. What are you up to? You’re not going to get us shut down, are you? Mal?”

“I can’t understand a word you’re saying, Dev. I’m hanging up.” Mallory clicked the key to terminate the call and laughed to herself. What she was doing wasn’t going to get her shut down.

She didn’t think.

“THE USUAL, THEN, DERMOTT?” Shay O’Connor looked at the compact, bright-eyed old man who leaned his elbows on the polished walnut bar, tapping his finger to the lilting strains of a pennywhistle and fiddle playing quietly over the sound system.

“Same as your grandfather served me, young Shay,” Dermott returned jauntily, smoothing back what little remained of his white hair. “O’Connor’s is still the only place in town that knows how to pull a pint.”

Shay tilted a glass under the tap and sent Guinness streaming into it. “The only little piece of Ireland in town, Dermott me lad,” he returned in an exaggerated brogue.

“Damned if you can’t sound like you came from County Kerry herself,” Dermott said, turning to survey the cozy pub. Warm wood glowed on every surface, from the wide-planked floor to the coffered ceiling. Lace curtains softened wide windows that looked out on the gathering twilight. Dark wood panels topped by colored glass divided the combination restaurant and pub into intimate seating areas, forming the backs of long padded benches where regulars relaxed, resting their pints on the trestle tables. Shelves ran around the ceiling holding old books, antique toys and bottles, and a sense of time gone by.

A willowy young redhead with eyes almost too large for her narrow face walked up to set her tray on the bar. “Two Bass, a Guinness, and a Murphy’s then, Shay,” she said briskly, the brogue of the West Counties running through her words.

“Quick as you please, Fiona.”

“Quick as I please would have me taking drinks back to me customers right now,” she said with a wink.

Shay eyed Dermott as he let the pint of Guinness settle and started another. “Are all women this impatient in Ireland?”

Dermott nodded vigorously. “Aye, and a good bit worse,” he said. “’Tis what drove me here.”

“I thought you came to seek your fortune, Dermott,” Fiona said with a raised brow.

“That, too,” he blustered.

Shay turned his attention to the other drinks. Painted words flowed across the wood above his head: There are no strangers, only friends that haven’t met. Looking out at the pub, he felt the comfort of tradition filling him like a cup of hot coffee on a cold morning. He put a head on the Guinness and slid it across the bar to Dermott.

A lanky young man with a disordered mop of black hair breezed into the pub. Fiona glanced at him, her eyes lingering just a beat too long. Then she turned, elaborately casual, to check her tray. “Nice to see you’ve decided to join us, Colin O’Connor, a rock star like yourself,” she said, her voice lightly mocking.

Colin gave her an amused glance as he crossed behind the bar. “If I’d known you’d be here, Fiona my love, I’d have left practice early,” he said, mocking her accent.

“Sure, and the pope eats steak on Friday,” she retorted as she took up her full tray and walked off.

Shay eyed his little brother. “You’re late.” Both of them shared the dark hair and vivid blue eyes of their Black Irish blood, though Shay kept his medium length for convenience. There, the resemblance ended. Colin had an open face and a boyish grin full of laughter. Shay’s deep-set eyes and hollowed cheeks promised something altogether darker and more tempting, like deep, rich caramel compared to white sugar.

Colin tied on an apron. “Sorry. Practice ran over. We were in the groove.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “I tried to hurry but I got pulled over.”

The last bits of late summer twilight streamed in through the wide windows. “So anyone know what they’re up to at that new bar on Washington Square?” Shay asked casually, his mind wondering about the SOS phone call he’d received from a friend earlier that afternoon.

Dermott waved a hand and scowled. “A lot of ruckus is what they’re up to if you ask me. I walked past last night on me way home. Half-naked women dancing on the bar, and all the crowd on the street making a right mess of things.” He slurped his Guinness and thumped the glass back down on the bar. “Should shut them down, they should. ’Tisn’t decent.”

Colin looked at Shay and raised an eyebrow. “Half-naked women dancing on the bar, eh? Maybe I should go check it out.” He made a move to untie his apron.

Fiona set her tray down on the bar. “What’s all this about half-naked women?”

“The new bar on Washington Square.”

“Oh, the Bad Girls.”

“What do you know about it?” Shay asked curiously.

She shrugged as she rattled off her order to Colin, then turned to Shay. “Not much. They only started a few weeks ago.”

“Indecent,” Dermott muttered again.

“’Tisn’t,” Fiona countered, leaning an elbow on the bar. “It’s just the bartenders doing a bit of dancing when they feel like it, clothes on. There’s nothing wrong with it, you know.” She flicked a glance at Colin, who was pouring a whiskey. “I thought it looked to be fun.”

“Thinking of joining up, Fee?” Colin asked, setting the shot on her tray and grabbing a glass to pull a pint of ale simultaneously.

She gave him an opaque look. “Maybe I should. They seem to get a good bit more appreciation than a lass can get around here.”

Colin opened a bottle of Newcastle. “Oh, come on, Fee, you’re our fresh-faced young Irish lassie, not a half-naked bad girl.”

“Don’t be so quick to think you know everything, Colin O’Connor,” she said tartly, picking up her tray and walking away.

“That was well handled,” Shay said dryly.

“What did I say?” Colin asked, mystified.

Shay shook his head, untying his apron and mentally vowing to stay out of it. “Never mind. Anyway, you can watch the bar. I’m going to head over to see just what they’re up to.”

“How come you get to do it?” Colin yelped aggrievedly.

“Maybe because I’ve been here since eleven and you’re an hour and a half late?” Shay tossed his apron in a hamper and ducked under the bar walkthrough.

“Yeah? I say it’s because you haven’t had a date in this decade. You’re married to this bar, big brother. It’s not exactly healthy.”

Shay turned to look at Colin for a long moment. “You have any other observations to make about my personal life?”

“Other than the fact that you don’t have one?” At Shay’s glower, Colin backed up. “Hey, I know, I know, the family legacy is in your hands and all that stuff. Anyway, abstinence is very hip these days.”

“Are you finished?”

Colin grinned. “No, but you wouldn’t listen anyway. Go spy on the half-naked women. Be sure to take notes so you can tell me all about it.”

Shay snorted and headed toward the door.

“You watch yourself, now, young Shay,” Dermott advised. “Those bad girls will tempt a man into all sorts of trouble.”

SHAY COULD HEAR THE PULSING music before he drew close to the line of would-be bar patrons standing restlessly near the door, some tapping their feet in time with the monster bass line. If any of them were over twenty-three, he’d have been shocked. He recognized the beefy man sitting at the head of the line. “Hey, Benny.”

“Hey, Shay. Why aren’t you over pulling pints?” Whoops and cheers spilled out of the open door behind him.

“Thought I’d come on over and see what’s new in the neighborhood.” And do a favor for a friend. Six years before, Dev Carson had been a contractor doing renovation work on O’Connor’s. The two of them had clicked, drawn together by a mutual fondness for sailing and music. Now, Dev was calling for help. Make sure my sister’s not getting herself in trouble, he’d asked. Their friendship was too close for Shay to do anything but agree to watchdog the sister he’d never met.

Benny swept a hand toward the bar. “Be my guest.”