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“They do?” he sniffs, looking over his shoulder. “Well… all those kinds of chairs look the same. That doesn’t count .”
“Sure, it counts,” I shoot back. I’m not sure I’m right about the chairs, but I’m enjoying getting him wound up. It’s just like the old days .
“Whatever,” he mutters .
“And you were never much of a cook,” I remind him, spreading my hand on the bar, watching the light glow between my fingers. “Plus, I am sure I invented this .”
He scowls. “You invented… what ?”
I knock on the bar surface that’s slowly changing from blue to violet. “This,” I shrug, like it should be obvious. “The lit bar. This was my idea .”
“The hell it was!” Aden growls, his eyes wide. “Every single detail of this bar, in this whole place, was my idea. Mine . I’ve got notebooks going back to eighth grade for some of this stuff. Recipes I cut out of magazines like a little old lady. This place has been my dream since …”
He stops, his eyes narrow .
I just stare at him .
“You’re just messing with me,” he snarls. “Very funny, Ethan. Why don’t you just go and find someone else to bother ?”
“Because there’s nobody else who is going to let me bother them, that’s why,” I sigh, bitterness creeping into my voice. “You should let me bother you, just for old time sake .”
He shrugs, grumbling and drinking and pretending to stare at the TV. We sit there for little while, drinking silently, unsaid complaints passing between us .
“You say you bought a house in this neighborhood?” he finally asks me .
“Oh, yeah. The sky-blue Victorian on the corner, you know it ?”
His eyebrows go up and he nods slowly. “Yeah, man. The place is a beast. Gorgeous house .”
“You bet it is,” I agree. “I’ve got some of my guys over there right now, trying to put it back together after what the last owners did. You wouldn’t believe what some people think passes for a bathroom rehab .”
“Oh yeah I would!” he protests. “You should see the upstairs of this building. The owner gutted it to the studs and then fitted it back up with frickin’ IKEA cabinets .”
“No he didn’t !”
“God’s honest truth,” Aden says solemnly. I hear real sorrow in his voice. He’s always had respect for architecture. “Ripped out all the walnut cabinetry, pocket doors and everything. It’s crazy. It’s criminal, practically .”
“Think I should buy it ?”
He glances at me sidelong .
“I don’t want your money, Ethan .”
“It’s not a gift. It’s an investment,” I counter. “I could buy the building, and give you a year’s worth of free rent. You fix up the upstairs, use your cash flow to reinvest in your restaurant, start marketing this place. I mean, seriously, it’s embarrassing that this place is empty .”
“Tell me about it,” he groans .
“You can totally turn it around. I’ll bring some people here, help you get some buzz going. Do you have enough cash flow to limp through the next few months? Get everything back together ?”
He squints at me, mentally puzzling it out. He realizes I’m not offering him a handout—he’s too proud for that. But I am offering him a reboot. Something too valuable to pass up .
Everybody makes mistakes, don’t they? Everybody deserves a chance to start over .
“Why do you want to do this?” Aden asks quietly, rolling the glass between his fingers .
I have to think about it for a long time. Why is it such a hard question answer? Why this block? Why this building? Well, why not? It might make more sense to ask why I waited so long ?
“Because I love her, Aden,” I finally answer, finding that the simplest words are the truest. “I don’t know how to tell her. I should have told her a hundred different times, but it almost seemed too obvious to say out loud. She doesn’t think I do. You’ll probably never believe me either. But I love her. I can’t stand the thought of doing anything less than everything I can to make her happy .”
