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“Busy as hell,” I answer. “We’re out of the red and pulling in a respectful revenue.”
I finally started turning a decent profit two years ago. I’d managed a bar before this. The owner had given me complete control, and I doubled the revenue, reduced expenses, and raised his Yelp rating two stars. I worked myself to death at that bar for one goal: to own my own.
Everything changed when Liz called, crying.
She’d rooted through my father’s mail, and what she discovered wasn’t pretty. He had the bar in a financial mess, held countless loans and liens against it, and if he didn’t write a hefty check to the bank in seven days, he’d lose it. It wasn’t my issue, was what I told her. I didn’t want the bar, didn’t want to move back to Blue Beech, didn’t want to clean up our father’s goddamn mess.
Liz was determined to keep it in the family and decided she’d try to take over. She tried and struggled—struggled to secure loans with her less than average credit score and lack of funds. I love my sister and didn’t want to see her kill herself to make the bar work, so I paid the debt and took over.
Pissed, I’d hardly spoken a word to my father when he sold it to me, but now, I’m glad I did it.
Cohen shifts in his stool, making himself comfortable. “Remember when we talked about launching a bar together?” He shuts his eyes in recollection. “Look at us now, owning our own and some might say in competition with each other.”
“Shut the fuck up. You’re not my competition,” I say, kicking his foot with my Converse.
Cohen and our friend, Archer, asked me for the go-ahead prior to opening the bar. Some might be pissed if their friends opened a bar thirty minutes away from theirs, but I was happy for their success. Cohen and I had dreamed of having our own business, and here we are, fulfilling that goal. Plus, I get to hang out with my best friend all the time.
He shrugs. “We should revisit the idea sometime.”
“It’s poor timing right now. My hands are full, getting the place back up and running. Plus, I’m renovating and upgrading my shit.”
Not only am I having Sierra redo the face of the bar, but I’m also purchasing new kegs, kitchen appliances, and upgrading my taps. I’m not the founding father of Down Home, but I can still make it mine. I’ve considered a remodel for a while, but hiring Sierra has gotten the ball rolling.
He nods slightly while grinning. “That’s awesome, man. I’m fucking happy for you.”
He raises his beer into a cheers motion, and I clank mine against his.
I met Cohen through a woman I dated. He dated her best friend. He worked at another bar in the city, a lame-ass one, and I hired him where I worked. That was eight years ago, and we’ve been friends since. If there’s anyone who understands me, it’s him. We grew up in bars, and now, we eat, sleep, and breathe our businesses.
He snaps his fingers a few times and grabs his beer. “Oh, I meant to ask you, what happened with the chick and cheating husband?” He takes a long swig of his drink.
Oh shit.
I didn’t think of Cohen asking me about Sierra. I came here to clear my head and get a grip on the situation.
There goes that.
“She, uh … moved into my place.”
He spits out the beer in his mouth, liquid spewing on his lap and the table. He snatches a few napkins and cleans the mess, laughing. “Are you shitting me?”
I shake my head.
“You’ve never let anyone move into your place. Your motherfucking ass wouldn’t even let one of our best friends move in.”
“Her losing her place of residence wasn’t her choice. Finn, on the other hand, was kicked out as a result of banging his roommate’s sister.”
Finn is a friend and also works at Twisted Fox.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Now, let’s return to the fun subject of you and your hot new roomie. I’m sure you’ll have no problem screwing the hurt from her cheating husband right out of her.”
I reach forward to push his shoulder. “We’re not fucking. We’re simply roommates, and she’s helping me renovate the bar.”
He drags his hand through his hair. “You must know her pretty damn well to let her move in. You were also pissed enough that you beat the dude’s ass like he’d just cheated on your little sister. Is she a friend’s sister? Why do you care so much about her?”
I contemplate my next move and scratch my cheek while looking away from him. “Do you remember when I used to tell you about the teenage brat who kept sneaking into the bar?”
He smirks. “Holy shit! That’s her?”
