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HUNTER
“I likesurprises as well as the next girl but Hunter you’re going to have to give me some clues.” Catherine attempts to hide her nervousness behind a shaky smile. Her beautiful profile beaming at me from the passenger seat of my car. A burnt orange sunset blazes behind her and I wish I could capture this image.
My hand grips the leather steering wheel of my BMW, I signal and make a turn. I bite my lower lip and brace for Catherine’s reaction. I cross two lanes of traffic and steer the car into a parking spot in front of the Button Factory Bar.
“How do you know about this place?” Her voice shifts from nervous to curious. “And why are we here?”
The Button Factory is a local struggling bar on the outskirts of town. It had been very popular at the turn of the century but over the last five years has lost the vast majority of their clientele to newer, fancier bars on Market Street. After the Legendary, this is the next property I’ve been eyeing. I have a list of changes I’d love to implement starting with a change of its name.
“I googled local bar that will be quiet and empty on a Saturday night.” My joke not far off from the truth.
Catherine snickers as I turn off the car. “Sad, but true.”
I scoot around the car and meet her at her door, helping her out. She rises, her gaze staring up at the awning. “This used to be Mom and Dad’s hangout spot back in the day.” A wistful smile runs across her face and I’m sure a happy memory is playing in her head. My mind fast-forwards to a time I get to tell my child about my meet-cute, courtship and everything in between. I know they say woman feel the pressure of a ticking clock but ever since my thirtieth birthday, I feel the countdown.
I hold open the door and we enter a darkened room. On the left side is a thirty-foot bar, dark wood, chipped stools, and a bartender on his phone with a baseball cap twisted backwards on his head.
Two- and four-person high top tables run the length of the opposite wall before the bar opens to a wide area in the back. I jut my chin toward the rear where all eight of the booths are empty.
We walk through the bar and make note of only six customers. A stench of depression and sadness hangs in the stale air. Catherine must sense it as she slips into a booth. “You bring me to all the nicest places.”
“Only the start,” a bit of my truth slips out. My eye catches a card center table. Welcome to the Button Factory. Due to staff shortages please use this QR code to order. Your bartender is your server, wait staff, cleanup crew, and your manager. We seriously underpay so tip generously and be kind. “Interesting,” I let utter and slide the card across to Catherine.
If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. “It’s actually a smart move.” She starts looking around the bar. “The only smart one that I can see. It’s a shame.”
I lean forward on the tips of my toes, chest pulled forward and wait for her to expound. Her beautiful mind is always in motion, and I love to see it operate. There is so much I’ve learned about her just from observation these few days but listening to her is like sitting front row at a master class.
“From what Mom told me, this was the spot for young couples back in the day. It might be hard to see now.” She shakes her head and I wonder if she sees what I see.
“Don’t you think it’s outdated? Have you looked at the drink menu?” I twist my phone to face her, scrolling slowly with my finger. “I bet they haven’t changed it in twenty-five years. No wonder the younger generation avoids this place.”
She nods. “They avoid it not because of the menu or the depressing lighting, although it does kind of scream murder mystery.” She laughs. “It’s empty because it screams nobody cares. Same as the Legendary.”
And there it is. The insight I was looking for.
“There are a bunch of wonderful legacy businesses in Mesa that thrive because they have active, engaged, connected owners and operators who care.” The cadence of her voice speeds up to match her passion. “They stay connected to their customers and shift with the changing demands. It’s one of the best ways to stay on top in a world that moves at a lightning pace.”
The corner of her mouth curls up as she ponders her next comment.
“And do you think a place like this, like the Legendary, can be turned around?” I dangle the bait.
“In. A. Heartbeat.” She doesn’t hesitate. The declaration coming across like a statement of fact. “Arizonians are a loyal bunch. Nothing brings them more joy than to spend their hard-earned money at a business that has history in the community. That has roots with the city back when it was only a few thousand people here. That shares happy memories with previous generations.”
I lean closer to breathe in the joys of her words, a unique perspective that I can’t find anywhere else. She is from here and works in this industry. “Every time I mentioned to Mom and Dad that I was going to a function at the Legendary, they would beam. Memories of their own happy times there playing on a reel in their head. I felt a connection, a shared joy, and I would rush home and tell Adrienne about it and watch her head spiral to a future event she’d be attending. The cycle churning. The same could be said about Mr. Johnson’s deli, Stephanie’s flower shop, or even this place. Just walking through the bar a few moments ago I could think of five things I’d change that would bring people back. Give me five minutes and I could probably think of fifteen more.”
“Wow,” I utter, and I know my face is filled with awe.
“What? Sorry, it’s just when I think of my hometown, I get a little….”
“Passionate. I love it.” The word hangs in the air for a heartbeat. Our gaze locked. “You should come home,” I state without thinking.
“What?” she repeats.
“You clearly love this city. I know what you’ve done in Indiana, there are so many places here that could use your help.”
She pulls back from the table. “What exactly do you know about Indiana?” A strange look runs across her face. Her brow pinches and her focus shifts in my direction. “Whose car are you driving Hunter?”
I feel my brows pinch in confusion. “Www… what?”
