Page 20 of Whiskey Neat

“Still discussing,” Ridley says. “I’d say we’re half and half.”

“There are a lot more hurdles to jump if we serve food,” Lowen says. “Plus, greasy bar food is not a vibe. If we serve food, it has to be quality, which means higher overhead to consider.”

“What do you think?” Indy asks me.

“I don’t know shit about overhead or running a business, but Willow Bay is seriously lacking in the restaurant department. What do we have? Fast food and a diner that’s seen better days.”

Lowen twists his lips, nodding as he glances off into space while Ridley grins. Indy looks deep in thought before he calls out, “Guys.”

The other three leave the area they were in—apparently looking at flooring options—and join us at the bar.

“Salem is for the restaurant idea,” Indy says.

The bear shrugs. “If the costs work out, it’s fine with me, but that kitchen in the back is nasty. It’s a full gut at this point.”

The twins look at the papers on the bar then up at me. “Do you cook?” the quieter one asks. What is his name? Jerry? No, that sounds off.

“Absolutely not, but I know a couple of guys in the city who might be looking. It’s so competitive there, they might like the opportunity to work here.”

“It’s risky,” the other twin says, “but I agree with Salem. If we can offer more than just a bar atmosphere, we have a better chance of attracting locals year-round.”

Lowen sighs dramatically, shuffling the papers together. “I’ll talk to Oakley about a quote for the kitchen.” He looks at me. “It would be helpful if you could check in with your contacts so we can at least get a feel for who’s out there. This requires me to adjust our operating budget.”

“Is it too much for you, gorgeous?” Indy says, but his tone is clearly teasing.

“Nothing is too much for me, handsome.” He winks. “Just communicating.” He brushes past me, off to find the contractor.

“If we were the same age I’d swear we were separated at birth,” I muse, watching Lowen.

Indy chuckles. “I might agree.” He grabs the laptop bag, glancing around the space filled with workers ripping out paneling and flooring. “Want to sit on the bench out front?”

“Works for me.”

I follow Indy outside, staring at his butt the whole time. The weather is nice today, sunny and breezy, and the warmth of spring is in the air. Perfect.

We sit on the old bench a few steps from the bar. It’s always been in such a weird spot, facing the street but right next to parking spaces, but I’m grateful for it today.

“It’s nice out today.”

Indy nods, glancing nervously at me before opening the folder in his hands. “Yeah. So, um, what we were thinking is we could get you started on sourcing all the shit we’re gonna need to run this place. I made a list, but if you think of more just add it. We have a proposed budget Lowen created, but it’s based on research he did, so if we need to adjust it we can.”

I take the paper, dragging my finger down the list mostly made up of different kinds of glasses. “Should I go ahead and look into restaurant supplies?”

His brow creases and then he nods. “Might as well, but maybe on a separate tab. The form is in the computer so you can make easy adjustments.”

“I can do that. What about alcohol? Do you have a vendor selected yet?”

“No. Ridley and Kit really want to have a local brew on tap too, so maybe find something made in our state?”

“Sure thing. What about monograms? Are you branding the glassware or just generic?”

“Lowen said if we brand it, people will steal it as souvenirs.”

I chuckle. “Accurate. What about a special glass for a house cocktail or something? With a name like Moby Dick, you have to play that up.”

He grins. “Just Moby’s, but yeah, I like where you’re going with it. Go ahead and get some quotes.”

“I’m all over it.” I turn so I’m facing Indy. “So… I need some tea on you guys.”

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