The Gravedigger's Brawl Read Free

at this place in the Fan and that I’d like it, so I checked it out this weekend. It’s got great ambience.” Noah gave a dramatic flip of his hand.
    â€œAmbience. People only talk about ambience when there’s nothing else good to say, Noah.”
    â€œNo, Wy, you’re gonna love it. The food’s pretty good too.”
    â€œUh-huh. And since you’ve already got an in with this guy, you need me why?”
    â€œBecause I think you’d really like the place.”
    Wyatt stopped short and turned to glare at his companion. “This guy doesn’t have a friend, does he? Are you trying to set me up?”
    â€œI’m sure he’s got no friends. No friends at all.”
    â€œNoah!”
    â€œNo friends, I swear!”
    Wyatt narrowed his eyes and glared for another moment, but Noah’s innocuous stare never wavered, so Wyatt turned and began walking again, smiling grudgingly. He had the very distinct feeling that he was being set up with some random guy Noah had found at a bike rally or something. But there wasn’t much he could do about it if he wanted to duck the trustees, which seemed the greater of two evils just now.
    Wyatt didn’t date seriously; he just didn’t have the time or interest in it. He had always been happy on his own. But he would have fucked a polar bear if it meant not being bothered by Edgar Reth today.
    When they got to the bar, Wyatt found a beautifully restored Victorian with a carved wooden sign hanging outside that read Gravedigger’s Tavern. A chalk marquee on the sidewalk indicated the day’s specials in a pleasant scrawl, and below that, Olde Richmond Towne Ghost Tours was permanently advertised in paint.
    â€œFun,” Wyatt drawled. “Do you have to be wearing eyeliner to get in?”
    â€œDon’t read too much into the façade,” Noah said as he took Wyatt’s elbow and pulled him to the door.
    It wasn’t all that crowded because they were behind the lunch crowd, and it looked like the few patrons inside the tavern were regulars. No one sat at the tiny booths that lined the walls of the long, narrow room. Instead, the four people in the establishment were all leaning against the bar that covered the length of one wall, talking with each other and the man serving. One patron wore a long black trench coat. A young woman wore red and black striped tights under a leather miniskirt. Two others wore work vests and had orange hard hats on the stools beside them. An eclectic assortment, to say the least.
    Wyatt gave the surroundings a wary glance. It wasn’t dirty or greasy like he had expected from a place an acquaintance of Noah’s worked, but it looked . . . well-used. In fact, Wyatt liked the vintage feel of the place. The walls were dark and rich, covered with black and wine-colored brocade fabric, and there were antique sconces along the walls that filtered soft light into the room. The ceiling sported tin tiles, and all the woodwork in the place seemed to be original to the old Victorian structure. At night it would probably be quite intimate. The dark wooden floor appeared to be original as well; it was smooth and dull from years of use, any wax or lacquer long worn away.
    Noah waved to the bartender and slid into the nearest booth. The man nodded at Noah and smiled as he wiped out a glass with a dishrag.
    â€œIs that the guy?” Wyatt asked as he sat across from Noah and shifted on the leather seat. It was real leather, he was surprised to find, worn and smooth from age and use.
    â€œThat’s Ash. He’s hot, right?”
    Ash was a good-looking guy: dark curls, darker eyes, tall and wiry. Wyatt tried not to smile. “Not what I was expecting.”
    Noah raised an eyebrow.
    â€œBig muscles, braided ponytail, goatee with beads in it.”
    Noah snorted and rolled his eyes, looking away with a smile and shake of his head.
    â€œSleeveless leather vest and patches that say