by M. E. Carter
The thought of her trying to keep herself entertained with your normal, average exercise classes amuses me. She’d rather pull her own toenails out with pliers and I know how much she wants to mess up her freshly pedi’d toes. Lauren needs hardcore exercise. Preferably the type that comes with bruises and battle scars. I understand completely. I’d rather take a dance class than weight training.
Sighing deeply, I let myself sink further into the floor as I observe the people who have become like family to me. Annika is unpacking the small kitchen, which isn’t surprising. She’s such a natural caretaker, I know it makes her feel like she’s helping me by still going. And she’s right.
Jaxon is resting on the couch after doing all the heavy lifting with Heath up a flight of stairs. I’m sure he’s exhausted but I honestly think his laziness is more because he’s being entertained by watching his best friend wrestle around with my son.
Carson’s giggles fill the room as everyone relaxes and enjoys the show. His chubby little self keeps running at Heath who is laying on the floor on his back. Whenever he’s close enough to grab, Heath tosses Carson in the air then puts him down and they start it all over again. My baby is going to sleep good tonight.
“Look at those two,” Lauren says gently, just as entranced in the scene as I am. “That boy loves his Uncle Heath, doesn’t he?”
“So much,” I agree quickly.
My son and her boyfriend have always been close. Maybe it’s because Heath has several younger siblings, or maybe he’s just a sucker for a cute baby, but from the second he held a three hours old Carson, they’ve had a really solid bond. It helps that Carson is a rough and tumble kind of kid. They can both get some energy out.
“I’m kind of glad we’re living here now, just so Carson can get some more guy time.” I stretch out my still cramped legs and cross them in front of me. “I feel like an ass for almost expecting it from Heath, but even just our regular hang out days is more male attention than he’s ever gotten.”
“You don’t need to feel like as ass. Heath already went out and bought a toddler bed.”
I turn my head to look at her, eyes wide in question. “Are you serious?”
Lauren giggles and pulls her knees to her chest, resituating herself. “He saw it at the store and had to get it. Said he just knows Carson will need to spend the night sometimes and wants him to have his own space.”
“He said that?”
“That Carson needs his own space? He sure did. Even bought matching Paw Patrol sheets and a blanket, basically the whole set.”
I press my lips together trying not to laugh. “Um, he knows Carson is a co-sleeper, right? That I’ve tried every which way to get him to sleep in his own bed but he refuses. It’s best to just give up and tuck him in next to you until he falls asleep.”
“Oh, he knows. Which is why I’m glad for our California king bed. I have a feeling he’ll be bunking with us for a couple of years when he visits.”
The thought of Carson in between Heath and Lauren in bed makes me laugh. They have no idea that this kid suctions to me like an amoeba and he’s a kicker. I guarantee Lauren will be the one using that Paw Patrol bed after a couple of hours and a foot in the back.
Hopefully, all the wrestling happening now will knock Carson out enough that I can try putting him in his own bed. We set it up right next to mine. Maybe it’ll work with me that close.
Wishful thinking, but these days, all I have are wishes and a few dreams.
“How come I’m the only one still unpacking?” Annika drops down on the other side of me.
“You’re not. You’re sitting like we are,” Lauren smarts off.
“Now I am. I’m tired and I didn’t even have to be up early this morning to drive a truck.”
“Don’t remind me.” I roll my head trying to stretch out my shoulders and neck. “I didn’t expect it to be that hard to drive a U-Haul.”
“Or that long. It should never take more than two and a half hours to get from the western outskirts of Houston to the eastern outskirts of San Antonio,” Lauren adds.
“How long did it take y’all?”
“Almost three and a half.”
Lauren starts giggling next to me, which of course makes me laugh, too. “It would have been faster if you knew how to drive a stick.”
That makes me laugh even harder. “They told me it would be a manual transmission.”
“A stick is a manual transmission,” Lauren half yells, unable to control her laughter.
“I didn’t know,” I protest. I thought they meant, like, I had to read the manual first or something.”
Saying it out loud makes me realize exactly how stupid my mistake was. But if I’ve learned anything since Carson was born, you have to laugh at the little things, even major irritations, or else you’ll spend your whole life crying.
The three of us crack up until tears roll down our faces and we can get our breathing back under control. I hope this is what it’s like living here permanently now—all of us hanging out for barbecues and birthdays. All the events I should be spending with my family. Because that’s what we are now. At least in my mind.
Don’t get overzealous Kiersten. They have their own families, too. You’re still in this alone.
The thought is sobering, but I can’t fall into the trap of relying on anyone else. It’s better to be surprised and relieved than disappointed and scrambling. Besides, Carson isn’t their responsibility. He’s mine. My biggest priority is making sure he grows up happy and healthy.
“Are you ready?” I ask Annika, smacking her lightly on the leg.
She smiles and bites her lip, an obvious sign of how happy she is. “I can’t believe the wedding is finally almost here. It seems like I’ve been planning this thing for forever.”
“It feels like it,” Lauren agrees. “Figuring out bridesmaid dresses alone took weeks.”
Annika shakes her head and blows out a breath. “I know a wedding is supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime event and the end will be worth it, but I almost ditched the whole thing and went straight to the courthouse. I’m not girly enough for taffeta and lace.”
“Thank goodness you’ve got a bestie over there who knows how to do all those things.” I gesture to Lauren who bats her eyelashes at us.
“No kidding. I love my dad but picking out a wedding dress with him was off the table before I even got engaged.”
“Well thank goodness it’s almost here. Just one week and you’ll be Missus Jaxon Hart.”
Annika looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Um, no. I’ll be Ms. Annika Hart, thank you very much. I understand I’m marrying into a legacy but I refuse to ride on the coattails of my father-in-law or my husband. I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I’m at.
Just then, the groom-to-be pops up off the couch and walks by us, “You don’t have to worry about that,” he says and heads toward the front door. “No one will ever question your creditably as a trainer on that field, no matter what last name you have.”
“Damn straight,” Annika says strongly with a nod.
“Besides, if anyone gives you grief, I’ll have my daddy fire them,” Jaxon jokes making Lauren and I laugh.
Annika doesn’t find it nearly as funny. She swipes at his leg while she bitches at him. “It’s not too late to cancel your wedding, buddy.”
“You would never! You love me too much.” Jaxon grabs Annika’s hands, pulling her to her feet for a quick kiss before smacking her on the ass. They’re so damn cute together. It makes my heart squeeze with a mixture of happiness for them and a little bit of jealousy for me.
“Come on, y’all,” Jaxon instructs. “Let’s get the rest of this stuff unloaded. We need to get that U-Haul back and we all know it’s going to take Kiersten an hour to drive it five miles to the drop-off site.”
“Har, har,” I laugh humorlessly and push up off the floor. “I’m never living this down.”
He’s not wrong, though. We’re running out of time. Af
ter a quick stretch and a little more bitching, we all get back to work.
THREE
Paul
Wiping down the bar, I glance around the room for the umpteenth time. Not that there’s much more I can do. The wedding planner made sure all the decorations were put up this morning, the caterer is busy with last minute food preparations in the rarely used kitchen, and the wedding cake is being set up on the far side of the room. Even the DJ is almost completely set up. Everything is ready to go.
Still, it’s the first big event I’ve hosted since purchasing this joint and I really want it to go well. Not just because my reputation is on the line, but because it’s Jaxon and Annika’s big day.
Jaxon didn’t work for me too long, but we’ve kept in touch over the years. When he came to me and asked about renting out my place for his wedding reception, I immediately questioned his sanity. For all practical purposes, this place is still trying to figure out what it wants to be. Hell, I’m still trying to turn a profit. But Jax assured me the wedding planner would turn my small business into a reception worthy space. I finally said yes.
He was right. With a little TLC and fancy decorations, this place looks like a million bucks. It’s a mixture of classy and country. Classy provided by the twinkle lights, cloth table coverings, and perfect centerpieces. Country provided by the general motif.
Our regulars wouldn’t recognize the place if they walked in right now. Not that they’ll ever see it. A private event will bring in a hell of a lot more money than the customers who call this place home and honestly, I can use the financial breathing room. Trying to turn a fledgling business into a success isn’t as easy as it looks on television. I’m determined to succeed though. It’s just a little rough around the edges and could use some improvements, but it’s got good bones. And even more importantly, it’s mine.
Two months later, and I still can’t believe I bought a bar. It was never my dream growing up. For years I assumed I’d get a business degree and spend my adult years behind a desk of some corporate conglomerate wearing an ugly tie. In my mind, that was the definition of success. It wasn’t until I got my first job as a bar back that my goals started to evolve.
During those years, I found that I enjoy working nights. My body likes sleeping during the day, so I always feel somewhat refreshed. As a man of few words, this environment seems to suit me. Turns out listening to people while behind a bar is my strong suit and comes easily. Conversations aren’t ever long. Except for a few people, they also aren’t in-depth. Even the ones who are using their bartender as a therapist aren’t bad. If they get too intense or I don’t care to hear any more, I can walk away during the conversation because I still have a job to do. Bar patrons seem to understand that better than say, retail customers.
Eventually, I realized my business instincts would carry me further than the few business classes I took, so I dropped out of college and spent my time learning the business from the ground up, working every position, and picking the brain of every general manager I worked under.
I purposefully worked my way up from the very bottom and I’m glad I did. Personally, I think it’s part of what makes me good at my job. I understand the ins and outs. I know how difficult the various jobs can be and what can and can’t be done in particular situations. I think it makes me able to assess my employees more objectively and keeps me from getting too heavy-handed.
Eventually, the opportunity to come here presented itself and I couldn’t turn it down. I’m sure to others it seemed like a step backward but that’s not how I saw it. This small non-descript hole in the wall business was my opportunity to take years of ideas, years of knowledge and use them to make what used to be called Sante a success. That’s why Pat, the previous owner, hired me. He’d spent his life loving this place and wanted to make it profitable once again.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t willing to let go of his old school ideas to let me get it there, nor would he invest any of the money necessary to bring the place into the current century. Or hell, even the last. Within six months he’d given up and decided he was ready for retirement. That’s when he came to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Now I’m the proud owner of a bar-slash-dance hall.
The multiple personalities are part of what I’m working on fixing. The whole place is a little out there and doesn’t seem to fit one particular demographic, which I suspect is part of why clientele is lacking. Is it a honky-tonk bar? Is it a dance club? Is it a concert venue? I suppose it depends on the night. But I need to streamline it a bit. Make it more marketable and classier, yet still have the down-to-earth feel. I have lots of ideas about the direction I could go, I just haven’t found the one that “fits.”
Yet another reason I’m glad to host this wedding reception. Not only am I helping a friend and buying myself a little time to make some decisions, I also want to see the reaction of people who’ve never been here before—what they like, what they turn their nose up at, what they complain about. I plan to do a little market research while they’re here. Maybe it’ll help me finally nail down a course of action. Failure is not an option when it comes to this business.
“Desiree,” I call out to tonight’s bartender and flip the towel into the bucket beneath the bar. “We stocked up on everything?”
She flashes me the same grin she uses with our customers. “We’re good boss.”
I haven’t gotten to know Desiree well. Our shifts usually didn’t overlap before. She’s worked here for a while though and Pat never had any complaints about her work ethic, so that was good enough for me. I’ve been busy sorting through paperwork and doing behind the scenes things like inventory and cleaning out the apartment in the back so I could live on the property. I haven’t made the effort with her I need to make.
For now, as long as she’s running up the tabs with no complaints from the customers, she can keep doing whatever she’s doing. The rest will come later.
“Good,” I say with a nod and yet another glance around the room. “Please make sure to stay ahead of our stock and let me know if we’re even getting remotely close to running out of anything. This isn’t going to be like our regular nights. They’ll be drinking faster and a lot more than normal. I don’t want to leave anyone in waiting.”
“Relax, boss. I got it.” She flips her blonde hair over her shoulder (that she brags is in the realm of “the bigger the hair the closer to God”), as she heads to the other side of the bar, leaving me to blow out a breath.
She’s right. I do need to relax. I’ve never been this nervous about an event before. I’ve also never been the one totally and completely accountable for its success before. Sure, the catering company and wedding planner will bear some of the responsibility should things go south, but realistically it’s on me. It feels like my entire future as a business owner is on the line.
“Tammy!” I yell to the waitress who is doing one last quick wipe down of the tables. She’s a couple of decades older than me and still loves working here. She’s also quick on her feet so I love her being here. “We good?”
She flings her bright red hair over her shoulder and gives me a thumbs up. “Ready to go,” she calls back and not a second too soon. The door swings open and people begin pouring in dressed in their wedding finest.
The wedding planner, whose name escapes me, hustles to the door and begins greeting people. I stand back, just watching and keeping a close eye for wedding crashers. I don’t anticipate any, but Jaxon and Annika are no strangers to the press. They had quite the public love story and none of us would put it past some of the so-called “journalists” out there to sneak in for some exclusive pics. That’s one of the reasons this place was a great option for them. Unless you know the address, you can’t just search up Frui Vita and find it. I changed the name a few weeks ago and Google maps hasn’t figured it out yet. That’ll definitely be a problem later on, but today it works to our benefit.
Everyone must have caravanned from the wedding site beca
use soon enough there’s close to a hundred people hanging out. The drinks are flowing, the tables are being claimed, and everyone seems to be having a good time. So far, so good.
“Mr. Franklin.” I turn at the sound of my name and come face to face with a mammoth of a man. His dark blond hair isn’t spiky like all the pictures from back in the day. It’s longer, despite a more receding hairline. Even with the crows’ feet creasing his eyes, his size leaves no doubt he’s still a force to be reckoned with.
“Mr. Hart,” I say and put my hand out for him to shake. Jason takes it, his fingers literally engulfing mine. His grip is strong, probably from years of using the muscles in his fingers throwing a football. I’m not a small man. I cross the six-foot threshold and played ball back in my day as well. But standing next to the legend, Jason Hart, I look like a teenager. “Is everything to your liking so far? I made sure to stock up on the top-shelf liquor you requested and should have more than enough champagne for the toast with lots of extra for celebrating.”
“First, please call me Jason. I realize I’m older than seventy-five percent of the people in this room, but I like to pretend I’m still young, and addressing me by my last name ruins the effect.”
I chuckle in appreciation. I may only be thirty-five, but the years seem to be going faster these days. “Understood. Then please call me Paul. With as long as I’ve known Jaxon, I feel like we should all be on a first-name basis.”
“Agreed.” He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit and pulls out a couple of envelopes. “I know this party is only beginning but I wanted to make sure to take care of tipping everyone before the drinks really start flowing. I’d feel horrible if I forgot and being the father of the groom, well, no telling how many shots I’ll have. Just don’t tell the missus.” He smiles conspiratorially at me and I have a feeling this has been a topic of conversation in their household leading up to the wedding. “How many of the employees here are yours?”
“The catering company brought all their people. I’m just responsible for the other bartender Desiree and Tammy over there.” I point to the redhead as she places some specialty drinks down on the table in front of her. The guests look pleased as they take their first sips which is exactly what I was hoping to see. “She’ll be mostly bussing tonight and some waitressing. Whatever you guys need just let one of the three of us know. We’ve got it covered.”