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“Okay, fine, I’m going, but call me if you need anything.”
I pushed him out the door without promising him anything. Cole would be the last person I called if I needed something. I had to save all my unused favors for if—or when—the day ever came that I needed his forgiveness.
***
Weaving my way through the teeming bar, I kept my eyes peeled for Noon. I’d been back and forth to New York many times in preparation for the move, but each visit had been short, every minute accounted for, crammed with meetings and a list of things to do. A month of being here permanently and things were finally starting to normalize. Reconnecting with Noon hadn’t been possible until now.
He wasn’t hard to spot. Even seated, his head rose above the fray. My heart danced wildly as I approached his table.Fuck,I missed him.
Noon pushed to his feet, his laughter infectious, and I let mine break free as I prepared to be crushed to him.
“Get over here, you idiot,” he said, grabbing me up into one of his rib-breaking hugs.
We placed our order and jumped right into conversation, as if only days had passed and not years. Noon wasn’t the type to leave room for awkwardness. His guards were always down, and with overbearing affection, he broke through any wall that stood in his way.
“So,” he said, gesturing around the bar he’d suggested we meet up at. “Will it work?”
I’d mentioned my plans to him during our brief phone conversation, and he’d mentioned that he knew someone wanting to sell their building and the bar attached to it.
The bar’s location was my main concern. Regardless of my looks, I wasn’t a glitzy, cosmopolitan-drinking kind of guy. I wanted my business to reflect who I was at my core. I wanted to open my doors to the construction-working father of two who had just enough money after payday to grab a few beers on tap with the crew. I wanted struggling artists. Locals. Andmaybethe occasional bar fight to keep things interesting.
The East Village provided all of that, and I couldn’t have asked for a better neighborhood than Alphabet City.
“It’s perfect,” I said over the music. Worn and rustic, which aligned with the look I was going for. It would require minimal work, from what little I could see through the dim lighting. Maybe a fresh coat of paint in a few places and a complete renovation of the bar area itself.
“That door over there leads to a huge open space the size of this room. Maybe bigger. You could knock this wall down and open the place up some more. Do your art exhibits and sip-n-paints back there.”
“Yeah,” I said, “eventually.” I’d need to first figure out how to paint again. I fisted my hands under the table to keep the tremors under control. They tended to take over on Sundays. “For now it’ll just be a bar.”
Our waitress delivered our drinks, giving us both a minute to collect ourselves after the initial euphoria of seeing each other again. We sipped and nodded to the music as I scoped out the place a bit more.
“Most of the people who frequent here are residents of the area. Steve’s on a first name basis with damn near everyone.” Steve was the guy selling the place.
“Exactly what I’m looking for,” I said. Loyal customers who felt like family. They would be the ones to keep the place in business.
“What made you decide to finally do it?” Noon asked, then looked around as if envisioning the place being mine.
“Age and maturity, I guess.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Noon leaned forward, moving his tumbler out of the way of his forearms. “Leland, this is me you’re talking to. Outside of making enough to keep the lights on, the man I knew had no plans for the future. You’ve changed, and while age and maturity is a damn good answer, I want the truth.”
Noon had never been one for small talk, bullshit, or beating around the bush. And it had been so long since I didn’t have to pretend I was okay, that not doing so now took a momentary retraining of my brain.
“Honestly? Sheer exhaustion. I was so fucking tired of thinking I was outrunning something when actually I was merely running in place. My life and my emotions had become one big fucking Groundhog Day. Living a lie isn’t easy, yet I continue to fucking live it,” I said, giving no context for my statement and surely confusing the fuck out of him. “Truth is, I’m scared I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I have to dosomething. And I’m almost positive I’ll fail. What do I know about operating a business? So you see, I haven’t changed at all.” Felt good to say it, felt good to drop the playboy persona for one goddamn second and actually let someone in.
Noon considered me for a beat. “Let’s tackle the second half of your rant first. What if you had a crystal ball that showed you the future, and it showed that you would absolutely, unequivocally fail at this. Would you try anyway?”
Leave it to Noon to simplify shit and carve out all the extra stuff clouding my vision. “Yeah, I would.” Because my only other alternative was to continue to age into a bitter old man, and I couldn’t go on being pissed at Franky for not being better if I couldn’t manage to be better myself. Plus, I had a feeling Cole wouldn’t have let me get away with my previous retirement plan of being a sex-addicted drunk.
“So see, you have changed. The old Leland would’ve tucked-tail and taken the first job offering a barely livable wage.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said dryly. Noon raised his glass, and I clinked mine to his.
Two drinks later and a shared basket of fries, and Noon decided to touch on the one topic I could’ve done without. The man responsible for the first portion of my mini, emotional purge.
