And just like that, our next step as the Saint’s Outlaws: Madison Chapter locked into place.
Chapter Eight
Tempi
The clink of clean glass against clean glass was one of my favorite sounds.
There was something calming about it.Just me, the bar, and a few dozen pint glasses still dripping from their last run through the washer.
Eleven fifteen.We’d been open all of fifteen minutes.
Britta wouldn’t roll in until three, and the regulars never started filing in until at least four.Mornings were mine except for the one-off customer who wandered in.I could get things done without yelling over jukebox music or dodging darts.
The quiet didn’t last.
The front door creaked open, bringing with it the sound of the street, distant traffic, the hiss of a city bus, and the jingle of someone’s bike bell.
“Tempi!”a familiar voice called.“The prettiest bartender on State Street.”
I didn’t even have to look up.
I rolled my eyes and reached for another glass.“You say that to all the bartenders, Frank.Even Mick over at the Salty Badger.”
I looked up just in time to catch Frank Osborn grinning like the devil in a Packers windbreaker, while his big hand gestured behind him to Nick Hamlet, who followed him inside like a quiet shadow.
“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Frank said and slid onto his usual stool at the bar.
Nick sat beside him with a nod.Less flashy, but still sharp.I’d seen them both more times than I could count.City guys, not politicians exactly, but they had their hands in city council meetings, real estate committees, and zoning boards.They didn’t own Madison, but they knew who did.
“What can I get you?”I asked.
“Wisconsin Amber for me,” Frank said.
“Same,” Nick added.
I grabbed two chilled pint glasses from the cooler and poured.The foam rose just high enough to crown the amber-colored beer before sliding it across the counter to them.
They didn’t drink right away.That was the first clue.
Frank leaned in slightly.“So, how’s business?”
I shrugged.“Can’t complain.Locals are still thirsty, and the cheese curds are still squeaking.”
Nick chuckled quietly, but Frank just kept looking at me with that smile that never quite reached his eyes.
“You had a full house the other night,” he said, grabbing his beer but still not taking a sip.“Heard it was loud in here.”
I kept my face blank and picked up another glass to polish.“We had a good crowd, yeah.”
“Bikers, right?”Nick added, voice casual but too smooth.“The Saint’s Outlaws?”
My hands didn’t stop moving, but my gut tightened just a little.“Yeah, they came in,” I said with my tone even.“Had some food and a few drinks.”
Frank nodded.“You talk to them much?”
I set the polished glass down gently.“Not really.They were having a good time, but nothing out of line.Paid their tab and tipped well.”
There was a beat of silence.The kind that had weight.
