Page 99 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“What do you say?” Chad held out his hand for a shake, a shake that would mean a yes to him. Yes to tearing down Stone’s Throw. Yes to demolishing my legacy. Yes to a new chapter of my life, one that didn’t involve coming here, didn’t involve the round-the-clock care and constant headaches. But one that didn’t involve bringing people together and putting something back into this community.

“C’mon, dude. Don’t leave me hanging. Are you ready to be a rich man?” Chad asked.

Wasn’t I? I tried to picture the new life an influx of cash would bring me. What did I want that I didn’t already have?

I came up blank.

“You know, I’ve actually had a change of heart.”

Chad and Brett looked like I stomped on their iPhones.

Vince cut in between us. “Mitch, I know this was a lot of information to take in today. They have big plans. Why don’t you take the day to process?”

“I don’t need another minute to process anything. I appreciate your time, gentlemen, but I’m not going to sell.”

“What?” Chad blinked at me.

“I’m not going to let my family’s work turn into Chuck E. Cheese.”

“This isn’t Chuck E. Cheese,” Brett said. “We’re disrupting the family experience.”

“Well, find another place to do your disrupting.” I pushed past Brett and Chad and ascended the spiral staircase to my rightful position.

34

CHARLIE

It was impossible to hear drink orders, let alone my own thoughts, when a hundred people were scream-singing the lyrics to “Suddenly Seymour” fromLittle Shop of Horrorsat the tippy-top of their lungs. The windows rattled with the vibrations of their voices.

At first, I didn’t know the song well, but after multiple Musical Mondays with it on rotation, I was now able to mumble along by myself.

It was no “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” or “Seasons of Love,” but it had its moments.

Amos pushed through the crowd at the bar as I finished pouring a line of tequila shots for a group of construction workers who had done a fantastic lip-synch and mimicked choreography to “The Schuyler Sisters” fromHamilton.

He slammed his empty glass down. “I’ll take another Cell Block Tang.”

I grabbed a fresh glass.

“These are good!” He glanced behind me at the chalkboard with the drink specials. “You made these up yourself?”

I nodded proudly. It was my first time creating new cocktails, another idea I had to generate buzz and prove to Mitch that he made the right call by not selling. My drinks included: Cell Block Tang, Not Giving Away My Kamikaze Shot, Whiskey through a Window. I had been itching to learn more about mixology, and this presented the ideal opportunity. Lots of guests complimented me on their taste and their names, with one person suggesting I go into writing ad copy.

No thanks. I liked where I was.

I mixed the tang into the liquor for Amos’s drink. It was so pretty. Such a shame it’d be downed in a minute for the sake of easing into flirting.

“Seems like you’re having a good night.” I cracked a knowing smile.

“With lumberjack guy? How’d you know about him?”

“I’m the bartender. I see everything.” Including the burly man with whom Amos had been successfully flirting. Mitch had inspired a mini fashion trend among guests. He had all the tips down: the smile, the eye contact, the confident puff of his chest. I was a proud teacher. “Is he a lumberjack?”

“He has muscles and is wearing a red-and-black checkered shirt. It’s good enough for me.” Amos nabbed the Cell Block Tang and downed half of it.

“What about the guy from Remix a few weeks ago?”

He shrugged. Old news.

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