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I’m not bitter, though.
Hell, maybe my business will explode at some point, and I can kickthemout.
28
WESTON
“Hey guys,thanks for coming up here. I know it’s tight.”
That’s an understatement. Restaurants rarely waste prime real estate on offices. Why would we when we can use the space for either cooking or serving food? You know, something that makes money.
But to call the space where I spend most of my days an ‘office’ is definitely looking on the bright side of things. There’s room for a desk and a chair, a small filing cabinet, and our safe. Behind me is a tiny bookshelf piled high with papers.
Regardless, I just asked Owen, Enzo, and Livvy here to share some important info. Yes, it’s cozy, but it’s not going to kill anyone.
Owen slings an arm around Livvy’s shoulder and she nudges him in the ribs. “Good thing we all like each other,” he says.
“Who’s saying I like you, Owen?” she asks, frowning. “Or any of you?”
I have to laugh at that.
He grabs her and gives her a pretend noogie. She shoulder chucks him back.
I wait until they are done horsing around. “You ready now, children?”
“Yeah, how old are you two? Twelve?” Enzo asks, his grin sly.
I know what he’s thinking. He’d like to be the one messing around with Livvy right now.
She straightens up and shakes Owen off. “So this is where it all happens?” she asks, looking around. “I have to say, it’s nicer than my office over at Pawsh. At least yours doesn’t smell like kitty litter.”
“Maybe not, but let me tell you, when they’re cooking fish downstairs, the air gets really thick up here. That I hate fish makes it even worse.”
Ah yes, the glamourous life of the small business owner. Some days, the grind is rough. Other days not so much.
I clap my hands together. “Our lawyer’s looking over the lease to see if there’s language in there that might protect us. But he also wants to run with Livvy’s find, that we try to make the case that our businesses contribute to the ‘cultural fabric’ of the community.”
Livvy laughs. “All we have to do is convince the neighborhood that a fancy restaurant and pet boutique are ‘cultural.’”
“Don’t give up yet. It’s worked in other parts of the city. Why not here on the Upper East Side?”
The guys nod slowly while Livvy bites her lip. I know she feels vulnerable, and that sucks for her. We guys have each other, but Livvy must feel like she’s hanging out there all on her own. I doubt that’s a comfortable place to be.
I’ve grown to like her the past couple weeks, and I want to help her any way I can—almost more than I want to help EastSide. We guys have access to investors and have a track record of running a successful business. We have options. We have people who believe in us. Should EastSide fail? There’s any number of other things we can do professionally.
I doubt it’s the same for Livvy. Sure, she could work as a dog walker or get a job in that big box pet store across town. I shudder when I think what a blow that would be.
But I see a glimmer of hope and I really want everyone else to, as well.
“Guys, this could be great. I feel really good about this,” I say.
Everyone looks at Livvy. It’s funny how, in the short time we’ve spent with her, we all have a sense of protectiveness toward her. We don’t want anything to hurt her, if we can help it.
That’s the rub—we only have so much influence.
But I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say we’re almost more invested in making sure Pawsh Pets makes it than EastSide. Not that we don’t love our restaurant, it’s just that Livvy needs our help.
She needs us.
