Before Ever After by Samantha Sotto Page B

threw it directly at Miren’s nose.
    “I used to live on this barge,” Max said.
    Shelley flinched. She could have sworn her dart was headed straight for the bull’s-eye, but somehow it had made a U-turn and pierced her chest. Or at least it felt that way. “So … you and Miren used to live together. I suppose this was before you took your vow of celibacy?”
    “Lived together? No, no, luv. I didn’t even know her back then,” Max said. He threw a dart. It landed next to Shelley’s. “I sold the barge to Miren and her husband, Rhys, when I got tired of bobbing along canals.”
    “Miren’s married?” Shelley tried not to look too happy.
    “Was,” Max said. “Rhys died a year ago.”
    “Oh.” She took another sip of her beer and winced. Guilt left a fishy aftertaste.
    Max pulled their darts off the board. “He had been sick for a while,” he said. “That’s why he and Miren bought this barge from me. They wanted to squeeze in one last adventure doing the most absurd thing they could think of. A floating Irish pub in the heart of the wine-drinking capital of the world fit the bill. I gave them the hangover recipe because I thought they would need it after their business sank to the bottom of the Seine. As you can see, they proved me wrong. Rhys lived long enough to show his doctors that a dream and a pint a day can sometimes be better than what they used to shove up his veins.”
    “It must be difficult for Miren, though, with Rhys gone.” She threw another dart. It landed on the wall. Aiming was harder without a compelling target. Her chest felt heavier as she thought about Miren sailing alone down the Seine.
    “The pub keeps her busy. She once told me that the love Rhys gave her was enough to last her several lifetimes.” Max threw a dart. He hit the bull’s-eye. “Do you believe that’s possible, luv?”
    Shelley was about to disagree when Miren walked into the room. In her experience, love, or what passed for it, was like a good beer buzz. Fizzy and fleeting.
    Miren balanced a tray of shot glasses half filled with a dark green liquid. “Have your friends abandoned ship, Max?”
    “They’re on the deck,” Max said. “I’ll call them back in.”
    Shelley stowed the darts away. “Can I help you with that, Miren?”
    Miren smiled. “That’s all right. Just grab a glass for yourself.”
    Shelley took a glass from the tray. She gave it a sniff and gagged. The smell, she was certain, would have made vomit vomit.
    “Horrid, isn’t it?” Miren said. “Don’t worry, it tastes even worse. But the way my regulars drink it, you’d think it was nectar from the gods.” She set the glasses down on the counter.
    “In front of each of you is the beginning of our next tale,” Max said when the group had taken their seats at the bar. “But there is something we need to do first.”
    Miren reached under the counter and pulled out a basket of eggs. “Crack an egg into your glass right before you drink it.” She broke an egg on the rim of Dex’s glass and poured the egg in. “Like so.”
    “Um … thanks, I think.” Dex took his glass from Miren. He arched a brow at Max. “Does our travel insurance cover voluntary poisoning?”
    “I’m afraid not,” Max said.
    Dex took a deep breath. “Oh, well. Bottom’s up.”
    The group gulped down their shots. Coughs and colorful swearing (mostly by Rose) racked the bar.
    Shelley could still feel the liquid making its languorous course down her throat like an oyster clinging to life. “Now I know what all your gold coins are for, Max—lawsuit settlements,” she choked. “You can start with mine.”
    Max grinned. “I truly apologize, luv, but I just wanted everyone to get their money’s worth and have the most authentic experience possible.”
    “Yes, well done, Max. Very authentic. Do let me know if this story of yours involves guillotines, okay? I’m rather fond of my head,” Brad said.
    “I’ll do my best to remember that.” Max