Down on Me

by J. Kenner

  "Reece, you can't--"

  "There are a lot of things I've loved and lost," Reece interrupted, his voice firm. "Uncle Vincent. My mother. Both my stepmothers." Jenna, he thought, though he hadn't lost her. How could he when he'd never had her? And never would.

  He pushed the thought away and met Tyree's eyes. "I don't want to add The Fix to that list. I want to do this," he added. "That place is my goddamn second home, and I am not going to watch it fail. We're getting it back in the black, and if kick-starting that plan means I toss in some cash, then that's just the way it's going to be. So don't you dare disrespect me and dismiss it out of hand."

  "No," Tyree said. "I wouldn't. But I'm paying you way too much if you have that kind of money sitting around just waiting--"

  He cut himself off, his head tilting in thought. And Reece knew that Tyree had figured out just where Reece would get that much cash.

  "Oh, fuck no. Reece, your house? You've been saving your whole adult life to build that house. I can't ask you to do that."

  "You're not asking. I'm telling. And it's not a house. It's only the dream of a house." A dream he'd had for years, ever since he managed to score a piece of lakefront property in a foreclosure sale when he was a sophomore in college. Even before that, he'd wanted to build his own home. Then once he had the land, he'd started saving in earnest, and collecting notes and sketches of just how he wanted the place to turn out.

  "Sometimes it's harder to lose a dream than reality," Tyree said.

  "You got that right," Brent said, with a bitter twist of his lips, and Reece would have bet the entire sum in question that Brent was thinking about Olivia, Faith's very out-of-the-picture mother.

  "Brent," he began, but Brent held up a hand.

  "I'm in, too," Brent said.

  "You don't have to do that," Reece said.

  "Oh, but I think I do." He shot a thin smile toward Tyree. "I know how much our boy here's got saved for that house, and it's not enough. Close, but not enough. Fifty-fifty," he said, then held out his hand for Reece to shake.

  He didn't. Not yet. "Where are you getting the money?"

  "Don't ask questions if you don't want to hear the answer."

  "Dammit, Brent, you've got a little girl to look out for. You can't--"

  "Can't what? Can't risk it? I don't think it's too much of a risk. Or was that impassioned speech you just made bullshit?"

  "You're an asshole," Reece said, but he took Brent's still outstretched hand. "But then again, you always have been."

  "Neither of you are risking anything," Tyree said, and both Reece and Brent started to volley protests. "We'll do this thing, but only on my terms, you understand? And I don't want the bar to be an albatross around either of your necks."

  Reece glanced at Brent to see if his friend had a clue where Tyree was going with this, but Brent only shrugged.

  "So our deadline is the end of this year. New Year's Eve. I need to see a steady profit and solid projections. Not just sufficient income to pay off the loan. I need to see real potential for growth."

  "And if not?" Reece asked.

  "That nibble from Booty Call's more than a nibble. It's a full-blown offer that expires the end of the year. We're not in a rock-solid position, then we accept the offer, you boys get your investments back plus a percentage, and we call it a good try and move on." He looked at both of them in turn, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back. "Those are my terms. Take 'em or leave 'em."

  "That's not a lot of time for the kind of turn-around in income we're talking about," Reece said, thinking over inventory, personnel, the menu, and the current marketing plans. "It's already mid-April."

  "We need to build buzz," Brent said. "Get the word out and get more customers in. Reece is right. That's not very long in the grand scheme of things."

  "That's all the time there is," Tyree said, crossing his arms over his massive chest. "Deal's on the table. Ball's in your court."

  "We're in," Reece said, shooting Brent a trust me look. "There's just one condition."

  Tyree squinted suspiciously. "What's that?"

  "We need to add one more partner to the mix."

  Chapter Eight

  "Partner?" The word tasted strange on Jenna's tongue, and she glanced sideways at Amanda, as if her friend could help interpret this paradox. They'd met at The Fix for a late lunch after Jenna's interview because, as Amanda had put it, "I love my parents, but if I don't escape, I'll turn gray before I'm thirty-five."

  So Jenna had served as a helpful excuse for Amanda to get away. Amanda, however, wasn't returning the helpfulness favor; she looked just as confused as Jenna.

  Jenna turned her attention back to Reece and Brent, both of whom were standing behind the bar right in front of Jen and Amanda's half-eaten order of mini crab cakes. "You're saying that you want me to be a partner in The Fix? Like an owner? That's what you're saying?"

  "That's what we're saying." Reece took her glass and refilled the Diet Coke. "So?"

  Her eyes cut toward the back hallway, down which Tyree had just disappeared. He'd come over with the guys, greeted both women, and then told Jenna that Brent and Reece had something to tell her. Then Tyree had left, and her two best friends had shooed Eric--the first shift bartender who'd been telling Jen and Amanda about his unsuccessful hunt for a new apartment--down to the far end of the bar.

  After that, the guys had relayed their morning conversation with Tyree and the plan to get the bar back on its feet.

  A plan that, frankly, she thought was brilliant. For them. For her, not so much.

  "In case you missed the memo, I don't have any money to invest. I don't even have enough money to buy a car. Thus the job search and this morning's interview. Which, by the way, went fabulously, thanks for asking."

  Amanda whistled through her teeth, then leaned back, giving each guy the eye. "Doghouse," she said under her breath.

  Brent scowled in her direction, and Jenna rolled her eyes. Brent and Amanda had gone out twice, and even though there didn't seem to be sparks, Jenna was a romantic and still held out hope. Brent needed a woman in his life, and Faith needed a mom. And since Amanda and Brent were two of her best friends...

  "So you got the job?" Reece said, interrupting her matchmaking meanderings.

  "What? Oh, no. Not yet anyway. But I'm sure I will. They want me on a project tonight. They called it an on-the-job interview. So it's looking good."

  "Yeah? That's terrific."

  "Thanks, but I don't have it yet. And it's not like they're going to advance me the big bucks. So I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be a partner."

  "We want you for your mind, not your money," Brent said, and Amanda snorted.

  "Men never say that," Amanda muttered, then shoved another crab cake into her mouth.

  Jenna swallowed a laugh. "All right. I'm listening."

  "We need your marketing expertise," Brent explained. "Your ideas and your time. Not your money."

  "Oh." She looked between the guys. "Really?"

  "We told you our deal with Tyree. We're looking at a big project on a short fuse. We need someone who can help us get the word out. Who can increase the customer base and, well, do whatever it is you do to drum up business."

  "Oh," she said again. "I can do that. But if I get this job..."

  "We'll take whatever time you can give us," Brent added, leaning forward, but his urging was unnecessary. Of course she was in. This was for Tyree. And now that the guys had invested, it was for them, too. No way would she let them down. No way did she want to.

  She leaned back, thinking. "My friend Maia works in marketing. An Austin friend, not LA. I'll do some brainstorming with her. And we need to see about doing a little work on the stage if we're going to bring in more acts. If we shift the angle, we can increase the size of the stage and the floor space for dancing. Double-win."

  Reece flashed a wide grin--the kind that went straight to her gut and made her look away quickly. "So you're in?"

 
"You know I am," she said, meeting Brent's fist-bump as Reece waved to an incoming customer, then slid down the bar to take an order.

  "We knew you'd come through," Brent said. "Tell Reece I'll talk to him later. I've got to go run a systems check on the security cams. Congrats again," he said. "And good luck tonight."

  "Thanks," she said, reaching up to accept his hug. Then she watched as he headed to the back of the bar. Once he'd disappeared into the hall, she turned her attention to Amanda again, then drew in a deep breath to calm herself. "I went from nothing to do, to way too busy."

  "You can handle it," Reece said, returning to put the new order in the computer. She gave him the message from Brent as he tapped the screen, and he nodded acknowledgment. "Listen," he said, once the order was processing. "I'm sure you'll get the job--who wouldn't want you? But are they going to mind if you're moonlighting?"

  "I'm sure I can make it work with them. They really seem to be interested in me. The interview was like something out of the Manual for Awesome Interviews."

  "So what's the point of tonight?" Reece asked, his arms crossed as he studied her.

  "Don't do that," Jen ordered. "Don't get all cynical on me."

  He raised his hands. "Just asking a question."

  She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. This was so Reece. "It makes perfect sense. They want to see how I perform under pressure. And I thrive in the hot seat, so I'm golden."

  "What's the event?" Amanda asked, though Jenna couldn't tell if she was legitimately curious or trying to help shift the conversation.

  "The company's been doing a campaign for a bridal company that centers around the selection of women for a wedding and bridesmaid calendar. The girls sent in their pictures, and tonight the winners are being announced. So they want all hands on deck. Like I said, it's the perfect time to see if I'm a pressure player."

  "A wedding calendar?" Reece's brows rose.

  "Just because you think marriage is a hideous trap that destroys love--"

  "I'm pretty sure I said it was a ridiculous institution that sucks the lifeblood out of relationships and is doomed to failure. But the idea's the same."

  Jenna rolled her eyes. She knew his views on marriage. She even understood them, to a degree. With a mother who'd walked out when Reece was fifteen, a father who'd remarried and divorced three more times and a best friend whose wife had packed her bags and skipped out on Brent and their newborn, it was no wonder Reece thought the institution of marriage was a crock. The last time one of their friends had gotten married, Reece had given them eight months.

  They'd been divorced in six, and he'd practically oozed self-righteousness. "The only good marriages I've seen were Vincent's and Tyree's," he told her once. "And those ended in death."

  Definitely a cynic. She, however, didn't share the sentiment. It was the lack of a marriage that had forced Jenna's own mom, Arlene, to struggle as a single mom, foolishly believing that Jenna's dad would see reason and return on a white horse, especially since he'd always told Arlene that he loved her and their daughter. He hadn't come back, of course, and Jenna had grown up with no sign of a father, except for four Christmas cards during her first five years, and with an over-worked mother.

  But Arlene had finally married five years ago and was now blissfully happy in Florida with Jenna's stepfather. Which, as far as Jenna was concerned, disproved Reece's gloom-and-doom view of marriage.

  "I think the idea of a bridal calendar is lovely," she said. "And from a marketing standpoint, it's very smart. Those girls will share with their friends, and then the calendars with the company logo will end up plastered on bedroom walls all over the city. Of course, if it were me, I would have done a contest. Had some sort of fashion show for sponsorship and then--"

  She sat up straight, almost unable to believe she could be so incredibly brilliant.

  "What?" Reece tilted his head, eyeing her. "You okay?"

  "Jen?" Amanda leaned forward. "What is it?"

  Jenna leaned back slowly, smiling so broadly her cheeks hurt. "Well, there you go," she said, eyeing Reece. "I've done it. I've just totally earned my way into this partnership."

  Chapter Nine

  "Calendar guys?" Reece said, looking slightly baffled. "You want to do a calendar with a bunch of guys?"

  "Yes!" Jenna hopped off her stool and started pacing, turning the idea over in her mind, searching for flaws--which she didn't find.

  "Beefcake shots?" Amanda asked. "Like on romance novel covers?"

  "You'd buy one, right?" Jenna asked, as Reece gaped at the two of them. "I mean look at him." She pointed to Reece. "Or Brent. Either one of them would look totally hot on a calendar."

  She allowed herself only one moment to indulge in her memory of a shirtless Reece. All the times they'd gone to the pool or the beach. Lazy summer days where she'd read in the hammock at his dad's house while he and Brent did yard work. And of course, that drunken night in the shower eight months ago. The night she wasn't supposed to remember, but couldn't ever forget.

  She bit back an indulgent sigh as Amanda squealed. "Are you kidding? I'd buy a dozen."

  "See?" Jenna shot a smug look Reece's direction. "I've already earned my keep."

  He, however, looked a little shell-shocked. "You want me to be on a calendar?"

  "Well, you and Brent and ten others." She glanced around the bar. Surely ten of the guys would look equally hot shirtless? She met Amanda's eyes, and saw that her friend was thinking the exact same thing.

  "I saw Tyree shirtless once," Amanda said. "I came to meet Brent here, and they were doing some work in the attic space. Ty came down to say hi. Poor guy was all hot and sweaty." She paused and sighed, probably reliving the moment. Then her mouth curved into a decadent smile. "Yeah," she said. "He'll do."

  "Well, that's three," Jenna said. "Who else?" She turned to Reece. "I haven't been around for eight months. Who else is on payroll now who'd look hot on a calendar?"

  "You're insane. I'm not stripping down for a calendar."

  "I thought the whole idea was to help Tyree," she said, as he crossed his muscled arms over his chest. She scowled anew. "See, that pose would totally work."

  "How is a picture of me and Brent and whoever else you drag kicking and screaming into this going to save the bar? We'd sell, what? A couple dozen? And all to the girlfriends of the guys who work here."

  "Oh, you'd sell more than that," Amanda assured him. "Leave a stack by the door, or put a flyer in with the bill. People would buy."

  "You mean women would buy."

  "Well, duh." She took a sip of her Cosmo. Amanda had no qualms about drinking at lunch.

  "The women would be coming in with men who'll buy them drink after drink in the hopes of taking his date home and getting laid." Jenna grinned. "Come on, Reece. Even if you didn't work in a bar, you'd know the score."

  He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the assessment. I wasn't criticizing your marketing scheme, just pointing out the fact that ultimately the sale of calendars isn't going to get us where we need to be. Even with all those men buying drinks for their dates."

  Jenna nodded. "You're right."

  "Of course," Reece said, taking a bow as Amanda laughed.

  Jenna ignored them both. She was too eager to make her point. "It needs to be bigger. We need to draw in people from the outside now, not wait until we have a calendar to sell. And who needs a calendar in April, anyway?"

  Amanda and Reece exchanged looks, both clearly confused. "So you're not doing the calendar after all?" Amanda asked.

  "Oh, we're doing it," Jenna assured them. "But it's not about the guys in the bar--"

  "Thank goodness," Reece muttered.

  "--it's a contest," Jenna concluded, shooting him a sideways look. "Contestants pulled from the outside and from the bar. You," she added with an innocent smile, "can be in the running for January."

  "Now, wait a minute--"

  He didn't get to finish the thought because Amanda's squeal was too
loud. "I love that! You can do a contest every few weeks, promote the shit out of it, and that'll take you to--" She started to count on her fingers.

  "October," Jenna said. "Just in time to get it printed for next year. It's brilliant, right? I mean, I'm not crazy?"

  "Sweetie, you're a freaking genius."

  "And we could add some of the recipes, too," Jenna continued, on a roll. "Or, even better, we can do a calendar and then a companion cookbook, with pictures of the guys and some of the bar's bestselling drinks and recipes. Get it in local bookstores, maybe sell it nationally. That would be a great fundraiser. Don't you think?" she added, twisting around to look at Reece.

  "You seriously think it'll work?"

  "I know it will," she assured him, crossing her fingers out of sight. Because nothing in marketing was a certainty. She could organize the crap out of this thing, have the hottest guys under the sun, and the whole thing could still crash and burn.

  But she was going to do her damnedest to make sure that didn't happen.

  "Then I say we go for it," he said. "So long as I'm not one of your guinea pigs."

  "Reece--"

  "Not my style, babe. You know that. And I'm a partner now, remember? I'll have enough on my plate without preening for the masses."

  "You don't have to preen," Jenna said. "Just strut." She managed to say it with a straight face, but couldn't hold back the giggles when he glared at her. "Fine," she said, holding up her hands. "Fine. You get a pass. This time. But I'm going all out on the marketing, and I expect you to be all in when I need you."

  He looked her straight in the eye, his expression so intense it seemed to push her back in her chair. "Don't you know by now that I'll always be there when you need me?"

  "I--" Her heart fluttered, and her skin flushed. And for the first time in ages, she couldn't hold eye contact with him. "Of course, I know that."

  "Then you already know--whatever you need, all you have to do is ask."

  "I--" She cut off her words, not certain what to say. There was something raw, almost dangerous, about the way he was looking at her. Like they were the only two people in the bar, and that he meant the words literally. Right then, she believed he'd throw himself off a building if she asked him to. And that, yes, he'd even do the contest. For her. If she asked.