I found Malcolm behind the bar at The Orange, leaning casually against it as if he were just a bartender and not the owner, or an Irish mob crime boss. Not sure which held more weight, to be honest. Regardless, he waved to me as I entered, enticing me to join him with the perfect pour of a beer from the tap in front of him, a welcome beverage he slid across the bar to me. Sure, it was only one in the afternoon, but it was already hot outside and I'd chosen to walk the blocks across town and enjoy the day instead of driving. Add a warm June afternoon to a redhead and you can imagine I was overheated.