“Eh, you can never have too much booze. I see you already met Jackson and Essie. Come on in, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the gang.”
He shook hands with Jackson, hugged Essie, and then pulled Fiona in for a kiss that dissolved every thought in her head and came close to making her drop the wine bottle.
“Jeez, get a room,” a man inside the apartment drawled.
“Ignore them; they’re harmless,” Joe told her, and then said in a much louder voice, “He’s just jealous because somebody let the air out of his girlfriend.”
Fiona wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected, but the casual atmosphere fit Joe to a T. She followed him inside, where she greeted Hatch and was introduced to Navarre. They weren’t nearly as muscle-bound as Jackson, but they both had a rugged quality about them that many women would find appealing. There wasn’t an unfriendly face in the bunch, and Fiona quickly found herself relaxing as though she’d known them for years.
“So you all work together?” she asked.
“Everyone but Essie,” Jackson replied as he loaded the beer into the refrigerator. “Though she helps us out every now and again when we need her expertise.”
He didn’t specify Essie’s field of expertise, and Fiona got the impression it was best not to ask. On the outside, Essie seemed like a normal person, but there was something alight in her piercing blue eyes that led Fiona to question that assumption.
Six people in one tiny apartment made for close quarters, but the guys moved around with a practiced efficiency that suggested they had these types of gatherings with a fair amount of frequency. Beers were handed out, corn popped in the microwave, while somebody slid a tray of pizza bites into the oven. Joe opened a drawer and handed Fiona a corkscrew, and by the time she got the cork out of the bottle, two wine glasses had appeared on the counter in front of her.
“If you don’t mind, I’d love a glass,” Essie said with a smile.
“Sure thing.” Fiona poured two glasses and gave one to the other woman. As they clinked their glasses, one of the guys corked the bottle and put it in the fridge.
“What movies did you pick for tonight?” Hatch asked as he emptied a bag of nacho chips into a huge plastic bowl.
“It better not be another one of thoseLeprechaunmovies,” Jackson said.
Fiona gave a questioning look. “Leprechaun?”
“You’ve never heard of them?” Joe said it with the same level of disbelief one might use when responding to a person who said they’d never heard ofGone with the Wind. “It’s only one of the best bad movie franchises ever made. The first six films are timeless classics, but the last two weren’t as much fun because they cast a different actor to play the leprechaun.”
“Trust me; your life was better not knowing of their existence,” Hatch said, and Joe tossed his beer cap at him.
“Don’t listen to them, Fi. They have no taste in movies.” Joe drank a mouthful of beer. “Tonight’s selections have a holiday theme:Violent Night,The Gingerdead Man,Krampus, and, if anybody’s still awake by then,Night of the Comet.”
A couple of the guys groaned.
“Gingerdead Man? Really?” Navarre sounded incredulous. “Where do you find this shit?”
“My guess is he digs them up from the bowels of the internet,” Jackson drawled.
“Says the guy who made us watchC.H.U.D.” Joe laughed when Jackson flipped him off.
It was fun watching Joe and his friends interact. They gave each other tons of grief, but it was obvious that none of it was meant in a mean-spirited way. It was more like some sort of male bonding thing, but with alcohol and questionable movie choices.
Hatch took the pizza bites out of the oven and set them on the stove. “Did you tell her the rules?”
Fiona froze, her wine glass a few inches from her lips. “There are rules associated with watching bad movies?”
“Of course there are rules. We’re not savages, you know.” Joe gave her a playful wink from where he stood in front of the sink. “There are three rules to movie night.” He ticked them off with his fingers. “One, there must be sufficient quantities of booze and snacks for everyone to enjoy. Two, no critically acclaimed movies are allowed, though we have made the occasional exception if the awards were related to special effects or makeup.”
“And three,” Navarre said as he reached into his back pocket and took out a bottle of bright-red polish. “The first person to fall asleep gets their nails done.”
“The only person exempt from that last rule is Essie,” Jackson said, “’cause she just did her nails the other day and she’ll kill any of y’all who even think about messing them up.”
Essie raised one hand to show off her recent manicure. “Like I’d fall asleep in front of these hooligans.”
“Don’t worry; I won’t let them paint your nails either,” Joe said. “First timers are exempt from that rule.”
“Since when?” Navarre asked.
