The tables were filled, and three barstools were available but spread out. Bear politely approached some of the customers, who immediately moved around to accommodate the newcomers. The trio thanked their new friends because in a bar like this one, everyone knew one another, or at least acted like they did.
The young woman tending bar was busy pouring draft beer and chatting up her guests. Bear caught her eye, and she came to greet them with a toothy grin.
“What’ll y’all have?” she asked with a wink at Bear. The big man sat a little taller in his chair and puffed out his chest.
Gunner began to answer. “We’ll have—” Then he was cut off by a voice from behind him.
“Whatever they want. Their money’s no good here!”
Gunner swung around. “Holy shit! Sammy? Really?”
Sammy Hart’s face exploded with a huge smile. “In the flesh, my friend.”
“No freakin’ way!” shouted Cam as she bounced off her barstool to hug their old acquaintance.
Gunner shook hands and gave his friend from Apalachicola a bear hug. Bear, naturally, did the same.
“Charlie, set them up with a round of Sammy’s Suds for starters. I’ll have one, too. What the hell, right?”
Gunner was beside himself. He looked around the bar and noticed virtually everyone was enjoying their joyous reunion. “Sammy, is this real? I mean, am I getting punked or something? Where are the cameras?” They bro-hugged again.
“Yeah, buddy. It’s real. A long story if you wanna hear it.”
“Hell yeah, we wanna hear it.” Gunner was genuinely thrilled to see his bartender friend from Apalach. The man meant more to him than just a familiar face when he needed to drown his sorrows. Over the years, he’d dragged Gunner out of the gutter and kept him from jumping off a bridge more than once.
Sammy looked around the bar and then craned his neck to see if a table was available on the back deck. It was full as well.
“Okay, well, it’s up we go, then.”
“Up?” asked Bear.
“Yeah. Y’all might not have noticed the widow’s walk on the top of the building. It’s got some deck chairs for my personal use. I live in a second-floor apartment above the kitchen.”
“Livin’ the dream,” said Bear with a laugh as he and Sammy exchanged fist bumps.
“You have no idea. The only problem with the Crow’s Nest, as I like to call it, has to do with logistics. Getting beer and ice to the coolers can be a challenge.”
“What do we need to do?” asked Cam. “Bear and I’ll make it happen while you two get caught up.”
Sammy waved his bartender over and gave her some instructions. She huddled up with Bear and Cam to work out filling the Jockey Box portable keg cooler upstairs with Sammy’s Suds and ice. While they got to work, Gunner followed Sammy through the kitchen, got the quick tour of his new place, and they wound their way up a wrought-iron spiral staircase until they reached the rooftop hangout—Sammy’s Crow’s Nest.
When they arrived, Sammy explained, “I like the name Crow’s Nest better than widow’s walk. That was too morbid and depressing. This is a happy place, damn it!”
Gunner laughed. “Hey, when I saw the name of the place was the Broken Hart Raw Bar, it never dawned on me that heart was intentionally misspelled to be someone’s last name. Especially your last name!”
Sammy slapped Gunner on the back and led him to the railing overlooking the water. Seagulls raced by, and a couple of fishing boats made their way toward the oyster beds just north of Tangier Island. The two men silently took in the scene before Gunner addressed his friend.
“What are you doing here, Sammy?” He continued to watch the boats meander by.
“Ah, I got into a scrap with my ex’s husband. She came into the Tap Room one night, pissin’ and moanin’ about how he was treating her. A few drinks later, we were back at—”
Gunner cut him off. “No, Sammy. I heard about that. I’m talking about what landed you right here in B-F-E?” He turned to look at Sammy to gauge his body language. Sammy tensed and began to run his hands nervously on the rail.
“Listen, Gunner. I want you to hear me out, okay. I didn’t just lie to you. I really did hook up with my ex, and we did get busted by her old man. But I don’t run from anybody. The timing was right for me to use it as an excuse.”
“To come here?” Gunner asked forcefully.
Sammy hung his head. “I didn’t want to do it. Well, I mean, yeah, when it was proposed to me, I jumped all over it. But after things were set in motion, I started to feel like shit about it. You know?”
Gunner leaned against the rail and crossed his arms. He stared at Sammy. “No, I don’t know. Spit it out.”
“After you told your people about your plans to move to Tangier Island, I got a visit from Dr. Dowling. He drove down from Eglin just to see me. He made me a pretty sweet offer, ya know.”
“To spy on me?” Gunner was perturbed.
“No, man. Nothing like that. Well, come on, Gunner. You make me sound like some kind of Judas or something. I value our friendship more than anything.”
Gunner tilted his head to the side and stared into Sammy’s eyes. He took a more direct approach. “Dowling wanted you to move here, right?”
“Yes.”
“And he funded all of this.” Gunner gestured with his arms, waving them around the building and toward the water.
“Well, sort of. I mean, it was paid for by the DOD, I guess.”
“So they bought you a bar to keep an eye on me. Am I right?”
“And funded the microbrewery, too. But, Gunner, it wasn’t to spy on you or keep tabs or whatever. I would’ve told them to go screw themselves. They wanted me to be here as your friend. Someone to lean on, you know, if necessary. I’m the same person as
