TK Eldridge’s Series Starters

Elise arrived, and then more family came, and Kennedy felt he couldn’t breathe. Edgars gave him an excellent excuse to leave, so he bailed on his friend’s family. He dropped Edgars at the station without getting out of his car, then headed home. Jameson’s bare little apartment mocked him as he stepped inside. He had a couch, a big flat-screen TV, and a battered footlocker that acted as a coffee table, but no pictures on the wall or decorations. He changed his clothes, put on jeans and a sweatshirt, then looked in the fridge for a beer. The only things in his fridge were a ketchup bottle, a mayo jar, and three eggs that were probably about to hatch dinosaurs.

They’d been in there so long. “Well, shit,” he muttered. Socks, sneakers, wallet, phone, and make sure the gun is locked in the safe. Check. A bar about two blocks from the apartment was there, and they would have a beer. And whiskey. And he wouldn’t have to sit at home with the TV and his memories of Michael Francis Donovan. Keys were tucked into his pocket, and he locked the doors and headed out. No, he wouldn’t be driving. A walk home would sober him enough to get the key into the keyhole, or so he’d learned over the eighteen months he’d been living here. It was still daylight when he landed outside the door of the Copper Ceili Pub, better known as ‘the Coppah’.