Free With a Twist by Deirdre Martin Page A

around, dude,” he said to Liam. “Can’t believe you haven’t figured that out yet.”
    Jesus, what an asshole, Quinn thought. He tried to remember if he’d ever liked Tommy. The sad but true answer? No.
    “You hook up with that blonde chick with the big tits who was in here the other night?” Tommy asked Liam in a lascivious voice. He nudged Quinn in the ribs as if sharing a confidence. “You should have seen this piece of tail. She was amazing.”
    “She was also stupid as a bag of hammers,” said Liam. “So no, we didn’t hook up.”
    Tommy shook his head in disbelief. “Since when did you give a shit whether any of the babes you give it to can even count to ten?”
    Liam looked pissed. “Just drop it now, okay?”
    Tommy shrugged. “Sure.” He drained his beer, this time wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can you hang when you get off?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Cool.” He slid off the barstool, pushing his empty beer toward Liam. “Catch you later, then.” He patted Quinn on the back again. “Good to see you, Bro.”
    “Yeah, you, too,” Quinn said dryly, watching him go. He couldn’t escape the feeling that Tommy’s quick departure might have had something to do with his presence. When he turned back around to talk to his brother, Liam was at the other end of the bar, chatting with PJ Leary. He obviously didn’t want to talk to Quinn about Tommy. Quinn let it go. For now.
    I don’t know how much longer I can work here, Natalie thought desperately, serving a foursome of firefighters their plates of bangers and mash. First, there was the food. One night, she was so ravenous she actually did eat some Irish stew. These Irish knew nothing about spices. Nothing. Everything was salt, salt, salt. When she suggested a few menu changes to Quinn’s mother, she was met with a stony stare. Didn’t the woman realize she was only trying to help her by suggesting food that actually had some taste? Apparently not.
    Then there were the regulars at the bar. Lunatics. Though she could tell they liked her and a few of them enjoyed sparring with her, their oddness often rattled her. No one like this had ever come to Vivi’s. What did it say about the Wild Hart that it attracted this sort of clientele, and what was more, let them sit at the bar for hours without really paying anything?
    Still, she couldn’t afford to alienate them. Diners taken care of, Natalie went to the bar.
    “How’s the book coming?” she made herself ask PJ, who was shoveling stew into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten for days. Poor devil, Natalie thought. He must not have taste buds. She’d noticed that whenever she left a bill for PJ, Liam discreetly took it away and put it under the bar.
    “Very well,” said PJ, looking thrilled to be asked. “The leprechauns have joined with the Galway salmon, and together they’ve attacked the fairie folk and made them slaves. But I’ve added a complication: King Seamus has fallen in love with the fairie queen, Lucille.”
    “Lucille?” asked Liam. “That doesn’t sound like a very Irish name. Or a very good name for a queen, either.”
    These people are crazy, Natalie thought again. Vivi kept talking about visiting the Hart. Let her come and see the lunacy I have to deal with nightly. Then she’ll understand .
    “Names are very, very important,” said the Mouth. “For example, my first wife was named Belinda. Same first letter as the word bitch . I should have paid attention to that, because she was one.”
    “Good thing her first name wasn’t Catherine,” Liam deadpanned. “You have to change the queen’s name,” he continued. “Something more regal.”
    “Like—?” PJ asked.
    “Natalie.”
    They all laughed, all sans Natalie, who wasn’t sure if Liam was teasing her or trying to make a point.
    The door swung open, and in walked Mason Clement. There was an empty stool at the bar, and he slid onto it, saying his hellos to the other regulars. He was always unfailingly