Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
“Sorry about that.” He sighed. “You can unlock it when you’re done with your cider.”
DJ nodded and traced his fingertip against the condensation on the glass.
While mentally running over the conversation with his father and trying to come up with a plan, he got to work picking up empty glasses and trash. He wouldn’t do his full closing routine, but he had to at least get the bar back in order before he left for the night.
“I can help you clean up,” DJ said, rising from his stool.
“I’ve got it.”
“I don’t mind.” He walked around the bar and over to the sink and started washing the dirty supplies. “I work at Jesse’s Diner, Strong Brew, and Slice of Life, and I fill in at Pike’s Grill every once in a while. I’m used to this.”
With experience at the town diner, coffee shop, pizza place, and biggest and best restaurant, DJ could probably handle closing down his little bar all by himself. Too mentally drained to object, Seamus nodded in response. “Thanks.”
He turned off the music, wiped down the tables, stacked the chairs on them, gathered the bags from all the trash cans, and then climbed up the back stairs and tossed them in the dumpster. When he got back inside, the dishwasher was running and DJ was mopping the floors.
“I appreciate the help, but you really don’t have to do this.”
“It’s no big deal.” DJ shrugged. “I restocked your empties, wiped down the bar, handled the dishes, sanitized the sinks, and prepped your garnishes for tomorrow.” He picked up the mop and bucket and walked toward the back of the bar. “I’ll pour out the dirty water in the utility sink and you should be good to go for opening.”
“Wow.” He looked around the now clean space. “You’re a life saver. Thank you.”
“No worries.”
When DJ returned from the back room, Seamus walked toward the front door to let him out. “I really appreciate your help,” he said. “Next time you come in, drinks are on me.”
“It wasn’t a problem.” DJ headed toward the door.
“Hey, weird question.” He didn’t know much about DJ because he rarely frequented the bar, but he remembered Todd Smitty once saying they’d gone to high school together, which meant he had grown up in Hope. And he worked at several of the businesses in town. Surely, between one of those places, he had met or heard of everyone who lived there. If DJ didn’t know the mystery man his parents had lined up, he probably didn’t exist. “Do you know someone named Dylan Johnston?”
DJ stilled and stared at him, his expression appraising once again. He didn’t respond right away, but eventually, he nodded. “Yes, I do.”
Seamus was taken aback. “Seriously? Who is he?”
He stayed quiet for another long moment and then he squared his narrow shoulders, strode over to Seamus, and reached his hand out. “Dylan Johnston,” he said, looking up at him. “Everyone in Hope calls me DJ. It’s nice to meet you.”
Chapter 4
“I didn’t know there was anyone else here from Claddagh. What are the odds?” Seamus said.
Feet tucked underneath him, DJ leaned into the overfilled, velvet covered, extremely comfortable armchair in Seamus’s surprisingly large home. It was in the same building as the bar, and it took up the entire second floor. They had gone up there to talk after he had revealed his identity.
“I’m not very good at math, but I’d say somewhere in the neighborhood of zero,” he answered.
Hope and Claddagh were two very small towns located on the opposite ends of the country from one another. The only thing they had in common was that very few people had heard of either place.
“My dad said you’ve lived here as long as I have.” As he spoke, Seamus paced back and forth across his living room while DJ took in the large space.
The ceiling was high compared to other buildings in their area, at least twelve feet tall. The floors looked like the original wood but they were in good shape so they were probably refinished. Windows spanned the full length of the exposed brick wall facing Washington Street, but the roller shades were pulled down, preventing anyone from seeing inside. Not that there would be anyone out at that time of night. It was after eleven, and with Seamus’s Basement closed, there weren’t any customers coming and going.
“I’ve been here eighteen years,” DJ confirmed.
Stopping his pacing, Seamus turned to him, his expression examining. “But you went to school with Todd Smitty and you look his age. How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-seven. I was a few years ahead of Todd, but, yeah, we went to school together.”
“Your parents moved away from Claddagh and took their kids from the community?” he said, sounding surprised.
His reaction made sense. Nobody left Claddagh voluntarily. Or at least not enough people that he’d ever heard of it happening. Until now. Seamus was the only one and DJ was still trying to figure out his reason for doing it because he was clearly close with his family.