The Greatest Pub in the Multiverse, page 5
part #1 of Greatest in the Multiverse Series
“The Pint and . . . Portal?” James said the words slowly, unsure if he’d heard correctly. Something about it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. James almost let go of the trinket as though shocked by a static charge. “He most certainly did not.”
Michael let out a long heavy sigh. “Aye, well, seeing as your father wanted nothin’ to do with it after your mother left, I shouldn’t be surprised. I suppose the burden on you might be all the heavier because of it. But I have no right to keep this from you. It belongs to the owner of the pub in this realm, and I guess that’s you now. The key’s yours. Just remember, The Pint and Portal has always been a place of refuge for all who find it. Your father never wanted to be keeper of the gate, but we aren’t always the deciders of our own fate. Oftentimes, that’s a good thing.”
Michael let go of the orb, releasing its full weight. James almost dropped the thing. It was much heavier than he’d anticipated, but he managed to regain his grip and brought it up to have a closer look at the intricacies in the design.
It was mesmerizing, like one of those illustrated illusions where a path never actually ended but morphed into another. The inside, which was visible through the cuts in the design, held some sort of engravings, though from what James could see, they were nothing more than meaningless shapes and patterns.
“What do you mean a key?” he asked, his gaze never leaving the sphere. The object and the man’s words sparked a trove of questions. “What is The Pint and Portal? Where can I find it?”
But when James looked up, Michael was gone.
James
James shut the door and wandered back to the table with the newly acquired orb in his hands. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about the object that was mesmerizing. He couldn’t put his finger on what that was.
“Who was that?” Kathy asked as James sat.
He set the ball on the table with a light thud. “Michael Flick. Claimed to be a friend of Dad’s. Does that name ring any bells?”
Kathy and Liam both shook their heads.
“How about something called Pint and Portal?”
Both looked at him blankly.
“It was so bizarre. He was a short man, maybe three feet tall. Full beard, wearing a costume that made me think he might have come from a play down at the park. He said this thing was the key to The Pint and Portal. That Dad was a gatekeeper, and now it’s been passed on to me.”
Kathy and Liam looked at each other. James couldn’t mistake the concern that rested on their faces. “Are you . . . sure, James? That banging was so loud we thought for sure it was an angry drunk.”
“You think I’m making it up? That I just pulled this ball from the airport gift shop for a laugh?”
Liam and Kathy exchanged another glance.
“Fine,” James said, holding his hands up, palms faced outward. “I admit that would be something I’d do when I was younger for a good laugh. But I’m being dead serious!”
Liam’s brow hadn’t gone down since James came back into the room. His voice was slow and placating, as though he believed James was having a mental breakdown. “Nobody’s accusing you of making anything up. But you’ve got to admit, that’s a strange story.” Liam reached over and picked up the ball. “How is this supposed to be a key to anything?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” James shrugged. He opened a palm, and Liam tossed the orb back to him. James caught it but had to use his left hand to support the weight. “Anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll ask Moira or Rudy about it later. This guy said I was a kid when he last saw me, so maybe they’ll remember him.”
“Rudy was going to drop by in a bit,” said Kathy. “You could probably ask him then.”
“You don’t think there’s actually something to it? Do you?” Liam asked. “Pint and Portal, you said? What could that even mean?”
James waved a dismissive hand. “Who knows, probably an inside joke. This guy was different though. Gave me an unusual vibe.”
“Because he was short?” Kathy asked. “James, that’s—”
“No! Of course not.” James frowned. “Not at all. It was the way he spoke. His accent seemed local, but a shade different than it should have been. I don’t know how to describe it any other way. And this orb too, something’s off about it . . . I dunno.” He shook his head like he could dislodge the thoughts. “It’s probably jet lag getting to me. Let’s forget about it for now. Anyone else want a coffee? Or maybe something stronger?”
James made his way behind the bar in search of a coffee mug. He set the orb down, making a mental note to check if Rudy or Moira knew anything about it. Those two had been closer to his parents than anyone.
Behind the bar, a mismatch of glasses had been lined up along the shelf. Not a single one of them was the same. A few bore logos of beer companies, others had chips and scratches along their sides. Many were discolored. James didn’t think a single pair matched.
“Dad used these glasses to serve customers?” James asked. “How many generations have these gone through?”
“What’s wrong with them?” Liam asked.
Kathy gestured dismissively. “You know how Dad was. If it worked, he didn’t replace it. Mom wasn’t much better. You could check the storage room. Who knows what Dad kept back there. It would be nice to have a few more.” She paused. “That is . . . if you’re planning on sticking around?”
The question made James realize coffee was definitely not strong enough. He grabbed the least offensive looking beer mug and held it under the closest tap, pulling the handle and allowing a dark stout to slide down the side.
“It seems I don’t have a lot of options, do I?” James set his glass down to let it rest. He watched the head settle as he attempted to sort through his thoughts. Was he really considering this? There was nothing in this place for him. How many nights had he laid awake dreaming of leaving and starting a new life? He’d done exactly that. He liked his life now, mostly. Sure, it wasn’t the grand adventure he’d dreamed of, but he wasn’t a kid anymore. Magic didn’t exist, and adventures weren’t real. But Cuanmore was a sleepy town at the edge of nowhere, and it didn’t hold any excitement.
Vancouver at least held something for him. It was a bustling city, with nearby mountains, a thriving arts scene, and the odd celebrity sighting.
It was also bleedin’ expensive, and he could sure put some of that inheritance to good use.
“Dad put me in a tough spot. I don’t have anything else going on right now, so I’ll help get things running again around here, for now. Once Trevor secures a new contact, we’ll have to figure things out. But if I’m going to do this, I’m not willing to just carry on as Dad had. If my name’s on the front of this thing, I want it cleaned up in here.” He gestured to the glasses. “We get matching cups, we clean up pieces of the building that are falling apart . . .”
“You’re worried about cups?” Kathy said. “You’ve been running away from this place for your entire life, and cups are what’s going to make the difference for you?”
“We should bring the lot to the thrift store,” James said, ignoring her and pulling out each glass one at a time. “Start fresh. This is insane. Every single cup here is different!”
“It’s a cozy Irish pub.” Kathy grinned. “This isn’t one of your fancy Vancouver bars.”
“I’m not asking for fancy,” James said. “I just want it to look like we care.”
“Oh, so you care now?”
James waved her off. Liam sat grinning like a mischievous schoolboy.
As he right as well should. I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.
He grabbed his stout again and topped it off before taking a sip. He nearly spat out the brew.
“And bleedin’ hell, we get a beer that’s drinkable! You said Dad didn’t have many customers? It’s no wonder! Is this even Irish? I’ve never had a beer this bad!”
“He moves to Canada and he’s suddenly a connoisseur of the finer things.” Liam chuckled. “Listen here, fancy pants. If all it was going to take was delicate china and hipster beer, we could have wooed you back a long time ago.”
James frowned and brought his mug over to Liam. “Take a sip of that, then tell me who the fancy pants is.”
Liam’s grin widened. It was the same devilish grin he wore as a kid right before he got the both of them into trouble.
“You’re overreacting.” Liam grabbed the drink and took a deep swig. His eyes went wide before he turned his head and spat the beer out.
“Hey! No spitting on the floor!” Kathy scolded.
“Holy hells! Jimmy, you weren’t kidding! Damn, where did ol’ Tim get this stuff?” Liam wiped the remnants off his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’ve got a few breweries set up in town since you left. I’m friends with a number of them. You remember Adam? He took over Cuanmore Harbour Brewing after his dad passed. Why don’t we head on down there this afternoon and get something better we can pour? This is a travesty.”
Liam caught Kathy glaring at him and rolled his eyes. “Oh, would you quit lookin’ at me like that, Kath? I’ll clean it up!”
James chuckled. “I might have been gone a while, but I know what a good stout should taste like!”
Another rap at the door stilled the table.
“You think that’s your leprechaun again?” Liam ribbed. “Come back to give you another magical trinket?”
“That’s offensive,” said James. “Let’s have none of that.”
Liam’s face reddened. “You’re right. I’m sorry, James. But you have to admit, your story sounds a bit daft.”
James knew exactly how he sounded. He grunted as he stood. “Never mind, I’ll get the door, again.”
“I’ll come with you this time,” Kathy said, standing and following James across the bar. “If it’s another strange encounter, I want to be there for it.”
James shook his head, but decided it was for the best. Kathy could either corroborate his story or confirm he was going mad.
“Great idea,” said Liam with a smirk. “I’ll stay back here and tidy up a bit.”
James opened the door again, fresh sunlight greeting him as he did so.
It was not the same figure who stood at the door this time. It was a face that James recognized but couldn’t say he was too happy to see.
“Mr. O’Malley.” James stuck out his hand. He’d grown up being taught to be polite after all. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Pub’s not open. You probably knew that.”
Mr. William O’Malley was the owner of The Cursed Dragon, the rival pub a few blocks over. There had been no love lost between their two families, and James could wager the man showed up on their doorstep after more than offering his condolences.
The older man stood there, giving Kathy a cursory glance before examining James. O’Malley ignored James’ outstretched hand, leaving him hanging. His tweed coat, frayed at the cuffs, hung open to reveal a vest and a neatly knotted tie. It was the same old-fashioned sort of attire he’d always worn. His face was weathered but familiar—deep lines carved into his cheeks and forehead, a roadmap of smiling, laughing, and frowning. His once-dark beard was now mostly gray, trimmed neatly around his jaw, but his eyes . . . those sharp, piercing blue eyes hadn’t dulled one bit.
“Well,” O’Malley said at last, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, “are you gonna invite me in, or have you forgotten your manners while you’ve been away? I always thought the Canadians were supposed to be polite.”
James exhaled and finally lowered his hand. “Mr. O’Malley,” he said, “it’s been . . . a while.”
“Aye, that it has,” O’Malley replied, stepping inside without waiting any longer for an invitation.
James exchanged an uneasy glance with his sister, but neither one of them was assertive enough to ask the man to keep out.
O’Malley looked around, his eyes sweeping across the room as if cataloging every detail. Then he turned back to James, his smile softening into something almost kind. “Ten years, give or take. I heard you were in town. Thought I should visit and pay my respects to your father. A pity you couldn’t make it to the funeral.”
James furrowed his brow. “Is there something I can help you with? This really isn’t the best time . . .”
“It’s as good of a time as any,” O’Malley said with a gruffer tone, as he stepped closer to James.
James had to refrain from waiving his hand to dissipate the smell of pipe smoke.
“I can’t imagine it’s been easy,” O’Malley said. “Coming back after all these years. And under these circumstances, no less.”
James crossed his arms. “I really haven’t had a chance to tell yet.”
“James only just arrived last night,” Kathy said. “We have family matters to discuss.”
O’Malley pursed his lips. “This will only take a minute. I think this is worth hearing before you get too far in any of your decisions. Now, your father was a good man. Stubborn as a mule, but he knew how to run a pub. At least, he once did. This place has seen its share of history, though, hasn’t it?” He gestured vaguely toward the walls, the floor, the air itself, as though the building might answer him. “But history only gets you so far. These old places take their toll. On a man, and on his wallet.”
James’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at, Mr. O’Malley?”
O’Malley turned to face him fully, his hands slipping casually into the pockets of his coat. “Ah, you’re a grown lad now. You don’t have to be going on with that ‘Mister’ stuff. Call me William. And I’m saying that I know what it’s like to keep a place like this going. The long hours, the repairs that never end, the money that leaks out the cracks. It’s a hard life, James. And you’ve been gone a long time. I reckon you’ve made a name for yourself elsewhere, haven’t you? A life outside all this?”
James didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
O’Malley took a step closer, his voice dropping. “I came here to make you an offer. A fair one. Let me take this place off your hands.”
“The pub’s not for sale,” said Kathy firmly.
“Now, now,” O’Malley said. “Don’t be so hasty. I’ll see to it that it stays open, that it keeps serving the locals like it always has—better than it has in recent years. Your father’s legacy—your family’s legacy—will stay intact. Kathy can focus on her firm. James will be free to go back to Canada, to whatever it is you’ve been doing. No strings, no burdens.”
James stared at him, his mind churning. The offer was tempting, he had to admit that much. But it didn’t matter, according to what Kathy had said, he couldn’t sell the pub. It was his now, whether he wanted it or not, at least for a year.
Plus, his father and Mr. O’Malley never saw eye to eye. James didn’t believe in an afterlife, but if there was ever a reason his father would come back to haunt him, he was sure selling the pub to O’Malley would be at the top of that list.
He forced himself to keep his expression neutral. “That’s a generous offer, O’Malley,” he said carefully. “But this isn’t any other business. It’s my family’s pub. My father poured his life into this place. I can’t just hand it over.”
O’Malley’s smile tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not handing it over, lad. It’s ensuring it survives. Places like this don’t run on sentiment. They run on hard work and money, both of which I’ve got in spades. Be smart about this.”
James straightened, his arms falling to his sides. “I appreciate the concern,” he said, his tone firmer now. “But I’m not in a position to sell.”
Finally, Kathy, who had stood silent the entire time, spoke up. “Really, Mr. O’Malley, we’re still sorting out Dad’s will. This is not the best time.”
For a long moment, O’Malley said nothing, his eyes boring into James like he was trying to read between the lines. At last, he gave a small, curt nod. “Suit yourselves,” he said, his voice colder now. He turned toward the door, his boots echoing through the empty room.
James followed him as he opened the door and let the late morning air spill inside. O’Malley paused on the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder. “You’ve both got your father’s stubbornness, I’ll give you that. But don’t let it blind you. Pride doesn’t pay the bills.”
James met his gaze. “We’ll manage.”
O’Malley grunted, pulling his coat tighter around him. “We’ll see. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. In fact, feel free to come down to the pub. First round’s on me, in memory of your old man.”
“Thank you, Mr. O’Malley. Good day to you.”
James
“What a langer!” Kathy growled as the door closed. “Showing up practically the moment you’ve arrived, trying to twist your arm into selling the family business?”
James waved her off. “He’s always been a dose. I’m not going to pay him any mind.”
“I wouldn’t pay him any mind, Kathy,” Liam agreed. “He’s always been a meddler.”
“Still,” said Kathy, shaking her head, “the nerve!”
“I need to take my mind off of all of this,” James said. “I’m going to rummage around in the storage room. Maybe Dad was keeping a set of glasses back there that he was saving for a special occasion. Have you seen anything in there, Kathy? Or were you just guessing earlier?”
“Guessing,” she said, her face still flushed from the encounter with O’Malley. But the change in conversation at least provided a momentary distraction. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been in the storage room.”
James paused. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve been helping Dad with things here since I left.”
“Pfft,” she scoffed. “I helped him file his taxes. I didn’t do any bar stuff. He wouldn’t let me. Said I had more important things to be doing. And we weren’t allowed in there as kids.”
“Makes sense. I’ve never been in there either.” James shrugged. “But we may as well see what kind of mess Dad left us with.”
