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There was a time I could have possibly forgiven him for what did and didn’t happen between us before Selene had died. Time offered clarity on how impossible our situation was, even if that time had done nothing to repair the trauma endured. But everythingafter? All the years I’d spent waiting on him while continuing to destroy myself in the process, giving myself away as if my body meant nothing to me, creating new addictions that never quite trumped my addiction to him… All the yesterdays I spent wanting him to offer me what he dangled so temptingly now…ThatI wasn’t sure I could ever forgive him for, and I honestly never expected to be put in a position where I’d have to.
Not to mention what he’d done to his own son. I’d felt every hurt he’d inflicted on Cole, and all I could do was stand by and silently relate to him.
No, it didn’t matter what my fucked-up heart wanted. I didn’t know how to trust Franky, or how to let go ofeverything.And I didn’t think he deserved the effort it would’ve taken for me to try.
The elevator chimed as we reached the ground floor, and with a pounding heart and an ache at its center, I gunned for the lobby’s revolving doors before Franky could convince me to change my mind.
***
Other than handing out fliers in the area to establish myself as the new owner, I hadn’t done much advertising for the grand opening. I’d rather gain popularity organically, and I hoped to hang on to the regulars. They’d need to get used to a new bar name, a semi-new look, and a new sheriff in town, but that feeling of being home when they walked through those doors wouldn’t change.
Cole showed up—dressed in a three-piece suit. I shook my head good naturedly before running down the basics of mixing drinks, even providing him with a little cheat sheet in case he got stuck while I was off checking on food orders or mingling with customers.
The menu was simple: fries, sliders, wings—basically, the shit I liked to snack on while boozing.
“What’s with the bar name?” Cole asked as I took one last pride-filled look around before I unlocked the front door.
“It means something to me,” I said vaguely.
“Maybe one day you’ll deem me worthy enough to share,” Cole replied tightly before stalking off. I’d have to deal with the state of our friendship sooner rather than later.
I propped the door open with a rubber stopper, letting the warm summer breeze in, before selecting an upbeat song on the jukebox. Then I waited for the magic to happen.
“Jesus, Leland,” Cole said hours later over the cacophony of conversations. “I think we’re in danger of exceeding maximum occupancy.” He smiled from ear to ear.
“I know, isn’t that great?” I popped a cap on a bottle of beer and then slid it into a waiting customer’s hand.
Drinks flowed, music played, pool balls were pocketed, and by the end of the night we’d run out of wings.
Cole pushed through the kitchen’s swing door, lifting the flip-up countertop to sidle up next to me behind the bar. “Dishes are clean, trash has been taken out, and I told the guys they could leave. Anything else you need help with before I go?”
“Nah, I’m good,” I said, finishing up with the liquor inventory. “It’s almost midnight. Go home to your jealous fiancé.” Jasper and I were cool. He’d long gotten over the times I’d purposely made it seem that Cole and I were more than what we were. But they were both possessive and twisted as fuck. Didn’t take much to get their hackles up where the other was concerned.
“What’s behind the locked door?” Cole asked as he shrugged into his blazer. I followed his gaze to the bolted door near the jukebox.
“Just extra stock space,” I said.
“You’ve already got enough space for that. How big is it back there? Maybe you can expand the bar. From the looks of it, you could use the extra square footage.”
“Not that big,” I lied.
“Okay,” he said, noticing the lone person finishing their drink at a table in the back. “Need me to close out his tab? Rush him along?”
“You could barely rinse a glass without fumbling it, and now you wanna take a stab at the register? No, thanks, rich boy. I got it from here.”
“Fuck you.” He chuckled.
“Thanks for your help,” I said seriously. “I know I don’t accept it often—”
“Try never,” he cut in wryly.
“Hey, I let you give me a job, didn’t I?”
“That’s different. We both got something out of that.”
“Well, I let you help me tonight, and I’m trying to thank you, but you’re ruining it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rounding the bar and heading for the front door. “You’re welcome,” he called back.
