Sips of Irish Cream: The Murphy Brothers Saga, page 1
Sips of Irish Cream
(The Murphy Brothers Saga Book 1)
(A Coffee Shop Novella)
Tamika Brown
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Copyright ©2021 Tamika Brown
Lumberton, NC. All Rights Reserved
This is an original work of fiction. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material
without express permission from Tamika Brown is prohibited. Names, characters,
places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and/or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
“About damn time,” he shouted to the driver as soon as he pulled up. “What the hell, man?” The shipment was long overdue. He called his supplier three times this week to ensure everything was in place for their grand opening.
The driver shrugged his shoulders. “I just drive the truck and go where they tell me to go,” the man told him as he opened the driver’s side door.
Rory stood at the back of the vehicle, waiting for the balding, pot-bellied man with the cigar in his mouth to open the back of the truck. This was bullshit. He’d spent most of the morning getting the runaround about this shipment, and right now, he wanted to do nothing more than knock that goddamn cigar down this dude’s throat. Rory hopped up in the back of the truck, waiting on the driver to direct him to his shipment. “Which ones?” he growled, raking his hand through his hair. If he didn’t calm down, Rory would have to make a pit stop at the gym before the day was over.
The driver pointed to a few in the back, and Rory got to work. He knew it was the driver’s job, but needed to expel this anger he gained while waiting on the fucking guy. Lifting the crate off the back of the truck, he headed inside to the storage room.
He never thought that out of all the things he could do with his life, it would be this. Growing up, most kids Rory’s age were in the boxing ring learning how to fight. And he and his brothers were no different. If Rory wanted to be honest, he should have been in fucking jail with all the trouble and drama he’d caused. But somewhere along the line, things just clicked for him. It took him until his late twenties to figure out fighting with his brothers in the streets wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life. But the Murphy Brothers had been a force to be reckoned with. He and Liam both decided brawling wasn’t for them, although Rory suspected Liam was getting in the ring every once in a while. Hell, even he’d stepped in the ring to expel frustration and make some quick money a few times. The fact remained that he or either of his brothers could’ve made a killing in the ring because they were all that good.
What grabbed Rory’s interest when he wasn’t getting into fights or getting jumped was his Uncle Connor’s ranch. As a kid, there were all kinds of things he and his brothers could get into. The horses, tending cows, and just running and getting lost for hours in the woods that surrounded the place. Plain old-fashioned being a kid. At the ranch, Uncle Connor taught them how to shoot, defend themselves, and cultivate and nurture plants. Out of all the Murphy boys, Rory was the one with a green thumb. He liked to splice and blend plants to see what he could create. This was especially so with coffee beans.
How some coffees worked well with spices and how others had a nuttier, more robust flavor fascinated him. And now, here he was, about to make his uncle proud. The man had worked hard to keep them from running with the Crews in Boston. At the time, Rory wanted to be with those friends who ran the streets, but Uncle Connor wouldn’t allow it, and Rory would forever be grateful.
He grabbed the last of the crates from the truck, settled them on top of the others, then sat them down as he watched the lazy-ass driver pull the door down on the truck, lock it, then hop in and drive away.
“Asshole,” he muttered, taking the last of the crates inside the storeroom.
Sugar, No Cream would finally be opening. The staff was trained and ready to roll. And he was too. Rory was beyond thankful for this opportunity. At least one of his brothers, Liam, was willing to be a silent partner in his new venture and put up the money with no questions asked. His twenty-five-year-old brother was another damn story. Brendan seemed so lost. Both Rory and Liam tried talking to him, seeing he was headed down a road many of their friends had chosen. Hell, even Rory, at one point in time, had been on his way too. He just wanted to know what the hell was up with Brendan, and they both wanted him to have the success he and Liam now enjoyed. Hopefully, Rory could talk him into working for him at the café so he’d stay out of trouble.
He sighed, emerging from the storage room. He’d worry about his brother after the grand opening. Walking into the lobby, he turned in a complete circle, admiring his place. He put his heart, soul, and all his money into renovating this place, getting stock, equipment, and employee training. Rory even installed the espresso machines himself and the coffee grinders on the far wall to allow patrons to grind their own cups of coffee to take home, though he also offered already ground bags.
The café would be open three days a week for breakfast and lunch—a marketing strategy he and Liam thought best because of the location.
Sugar, No Cream was sitting on prime Boston real estate. Around the corner from one of the busiest hospitals in the city, they’d make enough money only being open three days a week. On days they were closed, he thought he’d set up a small kiosk selling just the basics. He’d talk it over with Liam to see if it would work financially.
Liam was a financial adviser to some of the wealthiest families in the Boston area, and he’d made some wise investments that had earned him a lot of money. But Rory sensed something was bothering his older brother. He’d been so wrapped up in the opening of Sugar, No Cream, he hadn’t the time to probe. When things wind down, he’d have a heart-to-heart with his brother.
He was excited about what was in store for the place. A smile graced Rory’s lips as he took one more look around. Truth be told, things never worked out this perfectly for his family, which made him antsy. The other shoe had already dropped though, if he thought about it. Case in point, whatever the fuck was going on with Brendan.
He made his way outside to the sidewalk to ensure the tables were cleaned and positioned where he wanted them. The intimate atmosphere was exactly what he aimed for inside the café and outside as well. Soon, laughter and conversation would litter the space, and that was what he needed after the life he’d led.
After losing their parents at an early age, their father’s brother had taken them in so they wouldn’t go into the system. With his help, they found a way to become successful, even with all the odds stacked against them.
He smirked, shaking his head, scanning everything around him. It was all so surreal still.
“Damn, I can’t believe it. I did it.”
He grabbed the window cleaner and paper towels. Rory didn’t mind grunt work. He’d grown up working hard, so this was nothing new to him. Spraying the tables, he wiped them until they were shining. Eventually, he would hire someone to do this and a manager to free up some of his time, but for right now, he’d do what he needed to do. When the tables were done, he moved to the windows so the sun’s rays would light up the place.
Glancing at his watch, Rory realized it was almost time for his weekly dinner with his brothers and uncle. Uncle Connor insisted on having dinner once a week at his home to keep the family solid. His uncle was in his seventies now, although he could easily pass for someone in his fifties, and since he was all they had, Rory didn’t mind indulging. In fact, he appreciated what his uncle had tried to do, but with everything spiraling out of control with Brendan, he wondered if it would only be two of them at dinner instead of three. Especially since nobody had heard a word from Brendan in over a month.
Rory just finished cleaning the windows when a group of women in scrubs and one in a skirt and heels approached. He didn’t think much of them since there’d been plenty of people coming and going from the hospital since renovations started.
“Hey, are you open?” one woman asked.
She had long brown hair tied in a ponytail and bright green eyes. Her beauty was obvious, but his eyes gravitated to the stunning woman in the lab coat, dressed in the skirt, heels, and stethoscope draped around her neck, with smooth brown skin, light brown eyes, and a short hairstyle. Standing outside the group of women didn’t change the fact that she was a natural beauty, and no makeup littered her face except a little eyeliner on her lids.
A shy smile hid behind eyelashes that brushed her cheeks, and she blinked while waiting for his answer. She was fucking mesmerizing.
Shit, they were laughing. He’d waited too long to reply.
He coughed, balling the used paper towels in his hands. “I’m sorry. Our grand opening is tomorrow. We open at five-thirty in the morning,” Rory finally voiced.
Rory tried to pull his gaze from her, but he couldn’t. She was so beautiful, and he wanted to know more about her.
“We’ll come back tomorrow then,” the beauty in the lab coat promised as they moved down the sidewalk towards the hospital, disappearing around the corner.
Turn around, he silently pleaded. As if she heard him, when she turned the corner, she waved goodbye.
Things were looking up, and hopefully, it would carry over into tomorrow.
Walking back inside, Rory locked the front door behind him, then gathered the trash and headed out the back door. He headed to the employee parking lot, deposited the trash in the dumpster, then strolled to his truck. Hopping in, he had just enough time to get to his house for a quick shower before dinner. It was clam chowder week, and without a doubt, Uncle Connor would have the Guinness flowing and the coffee brewing.
Chapter Two
An hour and a half later, he pulled into the rock driveway of his uncle’s farm. Rory chuckled. Liam’s Jeep was parked directly in front, and Uncle Connor was going to curse Liam for blocking the steps. There was no sign of Brenden’s bike. As usual, Brendan would be the last to show up, if he showed up at all.
This was the place he grew up. Although country living, he’d loved it, though he considered himself a city boy now. There was no way he’d go back to doing farm work though. However, Brendan still lived here on and off. When he wasn’t here at the farm, no one knew where he went. Like Rory, Liam had his own place: the penthouse of one of the high-rise hotels downtown.
Rory killed the engine, taking his time to look out over the place as he made his way to the porch, knocking on the screen door. It was hard to believe something like this existed not even forty-five minutes from his place in the city. He took a deep breath, pulling in the fresh country air while he waited.
“Bring yer arse in here,” Uncle Connor yelled. “I don’t know why in de hell you just won’t come in. You got a damn key.” Rory chuckled at his thick Irish brogue. It was as if his uncle had only been in the U.S. for a few months rather than forty-plus years.
He followed the smell of chowder. “What’s up?” he called as he entered, smiling at his brother digging into a pot and his uncle sitting at the head of the table.
“Go ahead and get ye something to eat so we can talk,” Uncle Connor ordered, the mirth he expected non-existent.
What the hell is going on?
Rory searched Liam’s eyes for the answers, but Liam only shrugged and sat at the table. After washing his hands at the kitchen sink, he grabbed one bowl sitting on the counter and filled it with chowder. When he sat, he poured himself a glass of Guinness.
“What’s going on, Uncle?” Liam asked before he could.
Uncle Connor plopped in his chair and eyed both of them. “I had a visitor the other day.” There was nothing unusual about visitors to the farm. Hired hands and their families lived on the property now, so there was no shortage of people coming and going.
Rory dug into his chowder. “There’s always people coming in and out of this place. That’s nothing new.”
“It’s new when ye got someone saying they’re going to take yer livelihood away because something yer boy done.”
Confusion lit Rory’s brow, the spoonful of chowder stopping in the air before he dropped it back in the bowl.
“What do you mean?” he and Liam asked in unison.
Uncle Connor pinched the bridge of his nose. His once-bright emerald eyes, which all the Murphy men possessed, were now dull from old age. “Brendan’s in trouble.”
Rory knew for sure his little brother would be a no-show tonight. It was always a shit show when he was involved. Uncle Connor probably hadn’t seen Brendan in a month, either.
“What kind of trouble?” Liam asked, pushing his bowl away from him. Rory followed suit, his hearty appetite waning.
“He lost a package, and now they want the money for the goods.”
“What kind of package, and what kind of money are we talking about?” Liam inquired.
Uncle Connor shook his head. “Don’t know what was in the package, but it was worth two hundred thousand dollars.”
“What the hell?” Rory gasped, his words echoing in the room.
“Fuck,” Liam muttered, pulling out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Rory asked.
Liam punched the screen on his phone so hard, Rory thought it would crack. “I’m calling our screw-up of a little brother.”
Rory slumped in his chair, running his hand down his face. This was just like when they were kids. If Brendan picked up, this shit wouldn’t be pretty. Since Brendan had turned fifteen, he and Liam had been at each other’s throats. Brendan not wanting Liam telling him what to do and Liam always being the bossy big brother. Rory, being the middle brother, always played peacemaker, but not this time. This time Brendan’s dumbass had gone too far. When Rory saw him, he’d punch him in his fucking jaw himself.
“How could Brendan be so fucking stupid?” He turned to his uncle. “Did they hurt you?” Rory asked his uncle while Liam waited for Brendan to answer the phone.
Uncle Connor shook his head. “No. I had my rifle trained on them.”
Rory nodded. His uncle was a tough son of a bitch. Always had been, despite his sweet disposition.
“Little fucker,” Liam growled, grabbing Rory’s attention.
“He didn’t pick up, did he?” Rory asked, although he already knew the answer.
Liam shook his head. “No.”
“Well, what are we going to do about this situation?”
Uncle Connor spoke. “You boys aren’t doing anything but concentrating on yer own lives.”
Both Rory and Liam knew there was no use trying to change their uncle’s decision, but they tried. “If Brendan is mixed up with some mob bullshit, then we need to help him.” Rory surmised.
“We don’t know what the fuck it is yet, Rory,” Liam protested, but he heard the doubt in his words. Their little brother was in some deep shit, no matter who it was with.
“You’re right. We don’t know, but either way, whatever he’s involved in, he’s in way over his head.”
“Well, no need dwelling on it until we talk to him.” Although Uncle Connor was right, he didn’t like it, and by the look on Liam’s face, he didn’t either. But until they talked with Brendan, there was nothing they could do. “Rory, is the opening on track?”
Rory gave a curt nod. “Everything’s good to go. We open at five-thirty.” He picked up a spoonful of the now cold chowder and ate. “Which reminds me. Liam, I wanted to talk to you about an idea I had today.”
His brother turned his attention to him. “What did you have in mind?”
Rory downed the rest of his Guinness before pouring another and taking a gulp.
“Since the café’s only going to be open three days a week after the grand opening, I thought about maybe doing a kiosk or something on the days we’re closed.
Liam sat straighter, tapping his chin as if thinking about his proposal. “So, you want a similar menu at the kiosk as at the shop? You may have to condense what you offer. Are you willing to do that?
“I can if you think it will work. They can sit and have it outside at the tables if they want or take it in a to-go cup. I’ll park the kiosk right on the corner of the café,” he strategized. “Can use it on the days we’re doing inventory or getting a delivery. Or even right before the holidays. The traffic from the hospital is prime.”
Liam’s eyes lit up. “Let me run the numbers and get back to you. I’ll be by there sometime tomorrow.” Anything dealing with money, Liam was your guy. He was freaky crazy with budgeting and numbers, which was why being a financial adviser was such a great career choice for him. Liam took a glance at his phone and rose from his chair.
“Where are you going?” Rory asked. Something was bothering Liam, and it wasn’t just what was going on with Brendan either. He seemed more surly than usual.
“I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
Rory didn’t push. He hoped if his brother was in trouble or something bothered him, Liam would ask for help. Hell, he hoped both his brothers would ask for help. Especially Brendan.
