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I hate Bud Lite but can tolerate one for my friend.
Enzo leans onto the table and lowers his voice. “What about Olive-known-as-Livvy? Think we made any inroads?”
His choice of words makes me cringe. But business is business.
“Well, she left when she realized we saw her giving out her business cards. That was a ballsy move, but I have to give her credit for it. Maybe she’ll get some new customers,” Owen says.
“Well, we’ll go over and talk to her, maybe tomorrow. Our numbers are good, and we can make her a solid offer. Cleary, she needs to be handled with kid gloves, but our payout is more than she’d net in five years. She could take the money and open a shop in a small town where rent is cheaper and there’s no big box competition,” I say.
“Do you think she’ll consider the offer?” Enzo asks. “Or will she lose her shit and throw us out? That’s how someone in my family would do it. Just saying.”
I laugh. “Really? Has your nonna ever kicked you out of her house?”
Enzo’s eyebrows rise. “Are you kidding? Dude, she might be eighty years old with a cane, but she can still beat my ass if she wants.”
“What do you do when she comes after you?” Owen asks, laughing.
“Irun. Do you think I’m an idiot? You don’t mess with women in the Messina family.”
“Well, I don’t think Livvy is the type to come after us with a weapon, but she’s prickly and clearly doesn’t suffer fools. If she doesn’t like what we bring her, I have no doubt her words will be delivered with just as much painful intent,” I say.
Owen nods. “Yeah. She may be resistant. But everyone has their price, right?”
12
WESTON
We saunterinto Pawsh Pets with a proposal that could turn Livvy into the kind of businesswoman she’s only ever dreamed of being, thanks to our investors and, of course, my own personal money. When my grandfather died, he left my siblings and me a nice chunk of change that not even my bastard father could touch. And believe me, he wanted to get his hands on it. But a good trustee managed it until I reached twenty-five. I’d like to think I’m using the money wisely now that I have full access to it, and that my grandfather would approve.
I know others who don’t.
While I don’t see much of my father, he doesn’t hold back when it comes to sharing his opinions about my involvement in EastSide. In fact, he never hesitates to announce how most restaurants fail in their first year and that only a lucky twenty percent ever make a profit.
Well, we’re two years into it and are already profitable, which is why both our investors and I feel comfortable with expanding our operations.
“Have either of you guys ever been in there, in Pawsh Pets?” I ask as we head next door.
Enzo shakes his head, but Owen clears his throat and coughs a little. “Yeah. I’ve been in there. Picking up some stuff for… my mother.”
“Your mother eats cat food?” Enzo laughs.
“Har-har, funny guy.”
“Enzo, you go in first. You’re the one who brought your nonna. Brownie points, you know,” Owen says.
He frowns. “What? That woman can’t stand me. She can’t stand any of us. She hates everything we represent. I could smell the disdain dripping off her last night.”
Ouch.
Not sure I agree, but still, best to proceed with caution.
The bells hanging on the door blast our arrival, and a young woman with spiky purple hair and several facial piercings looks up, her face covered in surprise.
I guess she’s not used to three men coming in together, with no pets.
“May I help you?” she asks in an authoritative voice.
I step up. “I’m Wes, and these are my business partners, Owen and Enzo. We’re from EastSide, just next door.”
