LITMIR.BIZ

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dad took her death hard. His dad retreated into himself. As the owner of a business, he’d already spent a ton of time at the bar, but after his mother’s death, his dad had managed to devote even more time and attention to work. He’d stopped asking how school was going or putting in appearances at Jack’s baseball games.

      He’d stopped caring.

      Jack and this bar were the only things his father had. Although, only one of them seemed to get any attention from the old man.

      Jack tried—mostly unsuccessfully—to shake off the sullen mood. He started to make his way into the small room his dad used as an office, when someone rapped on the front door.

      Jack really wanted to tell whoever it was that the bar was still closed, but he was in no position to turn away possible business. He made easy work of crossing the room and opened the door to find his father’s lawyer and good friend standing there, holding a large tote bag, a small dog and a big grin.

      “Jack, my boy, how’s it going?”

      Fred Koda had been calling almost every day. Sadly, Jack’s answer to his standard greeting never changed.

      “Same.”

      Jack eyed the dog in Fred’s arms. He judged him to be about twenty, maybe twenty-five, pounds. He was a very light beige color and had lots of fur; he definitely had to be part poodle. He had a light brown nose, which his little pink tongue darted out to lick. Jack peered closer. The dog had green eyes. Very human-looking green eyes.

      “I didn’t know you had a dog,” Jack said.

      “I don’t.” Fred held the dog out to Jack. “But you do.”

      Jack froze. “Excuse me?”

      Fred pushed the dog into Jack’s arms. The dog immediately licked Jack’s chin. Fred waltzed into the bar. “This was your dad’s dog.”

      What the what? “My father never mentioned a dog, and I haven’t seen any dog-related stuff at my dad’s house.”

      “When James had his heart attack, I went over to the house and collected all of the food, treats, toys and beds I could find. He’s been living with me since that day. With you inheriting the bar and losing your dad, I didn’t want to bombard you.” He scratched the dog’s head. “Meet your new roommate, Cosmo.”

      “Cosmo? What kind of name is Cosmo?” The realization hit him fast and hard. His mother didn’t drink much, but when she did, she always had a cosmopolitan.

      Jack followed Fred into the bar. “Listen, Fred, I appreciate you taking care of this little guy. He is a guy, right?” Jack held the dog up and looked to his nether regions. “But I can’t take a dog.”

      Fred grinned wider. “He was left to you. You are Cosmo’s new owner. But I’m going to miss our man time,” he said to the dog. “Cosmo likes to snuggle and watch TV.”

      Swell. “That’s cute and all. But seriously, I can’t take this dog.”

      The ironic part was that Jack used to beg for hours on end to get a dog when he was a little kid. Now here he was, shunning that boyhood dream.

      Cosmo squirmed in Jack’s arms until he got comfortable. Then he licked Jack right on the mouth.

      “Yuck.”

      Fred chuckled. “He likes to give kisses.” He held up the tote bag before placing it on a nearby table. “Everything you need is in here. Food, toys, files from the vet. Cosmo’s a rescue.”

      “My dad rescued a dog?” It was so strange that he wouldn’t mention something like that to Jack.

      “Just about a year ago,” Fred said. “I think he needed a friend.”

      Jack let out a long exhale, which did nothing to alleviate the hurt and guilt Fred’s comment had lodged in his throat. Intuitively, Cosmo snuggled closer to Jack, wedging his little head under Jack’s chin.

      “Some other tips,” Fred said. “Cosmo is part poodle, but I’m not sure what he’s mixed with. So he doesn’t shed. He’s housebroken. He’s also very playful, takes two long walks a day, likes squeaky toys, hates the vacuum. Oh and he’s kind of a Velcro dog.”

      “Velcro dog? What does that mean?”

      Fred actually appeared to be a little sheepish. “He’s clingy.”

      Great. Jack sighed. “Fred, Cosmo is really cute.” And he was. He would have been exactly the kind of dog he’d wanted when he was little. “But I can’t take him. I don’t even know if I’m staying in town.”

      “Why wouldn’t you stay here? You have a place to live and you’re the new owner of the bar.”

      “A bar that never gets any customers.”

      Fred hesitated, then waved his hand as if to dismiss the idea. “Well, I’m sure it will pick up soon.”

      “I’m still trying to figure out what happened here, Fred. When I was growing up, the place was packed almost every night. Now there’s a handful of regulars and that’s about it.”

      The strangest part about this was the fact that The Wright Drink was located on King Street. As one of the busiest streets in the popular Old Town area, King Street generated enough foot traffic to make attracting thirsty customers a breeze. Locals and tourists alike always seemed charmed by Old Town Alexandria, with its quaint cobblestone streets, red brick sidewalks, the history and culture, the close proximity to Washington, DC, the view of the Potomac, and the restaurants and shops.

      “I’m not sure what to tell you, kid. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but looking back, your dad was acting a little weird for the last year or two.”

      Jack shifted. “What do you mean?”

      “Forgetful. Aloof. Not that he was ever Mr. Personality before.”

      Maybe something besides the lifelong smoking had been going on with his dad. With his health. His grandfather had had dementia. Perhaps his dad started to get the same thing.

      “Do you think that’s why most of the regulars haven’t paid their tabs? From the receipts and records I’ve gone through, it seems like my dad hadn’t asked them to settle for the last two years.”

      Fred shrugged. “Could be.”

      But would asking for money drive them away? Then the bar would truly be empty. Frustrated, Jack gritted his teeth. The only thing he knew about a bar was how to go to one and order a beer.

      With a sigh, he said, “Maybe I’m not cut out for this, Fred. I can always try to sell it.”

      “Nonsense,” Fred bellowed. “Your dad wanted you to have The Wright Drink. He told me many times.”

      “Would have been nice for him to tell me too.” He hadn’t meant to utter that out loud, but he couldn’t take it back now. Fred paused. Finally, he put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed.

      “I have to get going. I’m meeting a client near Mount Vernon and I heard the Parkway is backed up.”

      Panic washed over Jack. “But Cosmo?” he asked helplessly.

      Fred laughed as he quickly headed for the door. “You’ll be fine.”

      “He shouldn’t even be in here. There are health-code violations. Right?” Were there? He had no idea.

      “James had him in here all the time. Cosmo liked to sleep behind the bar.”

      “Fred, wait...”

      But Fred didn’t wait. Jack was alone with a little dog—and with his thoughts, which was even worse.

      He was in no better place than he was before. He still needed to figure out how to turn the bar around. Or sell. Despite Fred’s protests, Jack was considering the idea to be a very viable option.

      Ashamed

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