Page 5 of Because of You
I run home from their office and jump in the shower a mere ten minutes before I’m due to be at Fireside, the bar and restaurant I own and run with Jeremy Wright. Jeremy and I have been best friends since we met our freshman year at the University of Pittsburgh. He is funny, smart, loyal, and dedicated—an amazing business partner and friend. He ended up in the seat next to me in my very first college class, a more untraditional student having played in the NHL for three yearsbefore a brutal injury cut his career short. The two of us clicked, and now here we are, years later, as co-owners of Fireside.
When we were looking for space for the bar, we found a gem of a building on the South Side that would become our pride and joy. As we were working on the remodel and pouring our hearts and souls into every inch of the bar, I ended up moving into the loft upstairs. I always assumed it would be short term, but eight years later, I'm still here.
I do a quick rinse and then get out and wrap a towel around my waist. I run a razor over my face and then dig in my drawers for clothes. I am just pulling a shirt over my head when I hear my front door open.
“Hey, Ben, you home?” comes Jeremy’s voice from downstairs.
I grab my shoes and jog down the stairs. “Hey, I was just about to come down. What’s up?”
“There’s a guy in the bar who wants to talk to us. I couldn’t get anything out of him, just that he has some business to discuss, and he wants to talk to us together.”
“Um, okay. Are we about to get, like, shaken down or something?”
“Nah, didn’t get that vibe from him. The guy is corporate all the way down to his wingtips. He was wearing a tie clip, Ben. A tie clip. In the year of our lord 2024.”
I chuckle as I bend down to tie my shoes. An athlete to his core, Jeremy abhors anything that comes even remotely close to dressing up. He says it’s because of his years of professional hockey where he was forced to wear suits to and from all his games.
“Okay, well, let’s go down and see what Mr. Tie Clip needs from a couple of bar owners on the South Side.”
The guy is definitely wearing a tie clip, but he also oozes wealth, competence, and sophistication as he sits at a table along the back wall of the bar with a leather portfolio in front of him and a briefcase at his feet. He seems to be in his late forties, in good shape with brown hair styled intentionally to look messy and trendy, dark-rimmed glasses on his face. Seeing us walking in from the back, he stands, reaching out his hand to shake mine.
“Benjamin Parker?”
“Ben,” I say, gripping his hand in a firm shake. Something about this guy makes me feel like I need to assert my manhood or something. A thought I haven’t had since I was in high school trying to convince the captain of the girls’ soccer team that I was a better prom date than the quarterback of the football team. “Can I get you something to drink?” I ask, waving a hand at the bar.
“No, thank you. Please, sit.” He gestures to the other chairs at the table, and Jeremy and I sit.Thank you very much for offering me a seat in my bar. That I own. I internally roll my eyes.
“I’m Kyle Braverman, CEO of Stonegate Restaurant Group.”
Holy. Fuck. That cuts off my metaphorical eye roll as my brain practically stutters, and Jeremy lets out a low whistle next to me. Stonegate Restaurant Group is a wildly successful and well-known company. They started out with one restaurant in Los Angeles and now own restaurants all over the US.
“As you probably know, about five years ago, Stonegate started a new sports division. We are now the concession providers to several hockey arenas, football stadiums, and othersports venues around the country. Fireside, and the two of you, have been on our radar for some time.”
“We have?” Jeremy and I say together. Jesus. Way to sound professional in front of the Very Important Person.
“Yes, you have. Jeremy, you may have been out of the league for a while, but you were a Calder Trophy winning forward with more than sixty goals scored in each of your three seasons in the league. You still maintain an active presence in and around the NHL with your charity work, despite being out of play for more than a decade. And Ben, you have been written about both locally and nationally for your business acumen, and your vision and creativity in creating and growing Fireside in this up-and-coming neighborhood, in the city where you were raised, has been highly praised. To put it simply, you have both built something extraordinary here, and Stonegate wants to partner with you.”
“Partner? With us?” I will my brain to engage and let me be the intelligent businessperson that this guy seems to think I am.
“What does that mean, exactly?” asks Jeremy.
“As you may know, there has been an increasing demand in the past few years for more high quality, interesting food and beverage options at stadiums and arenas. The days of hot dogs and beers as the main food options at sporting events are long over. This is the biggest reason Stonegate started the sports division. We want to put a Fireside location into each of the stadiums and arenas we service. Stonegate would make the capital investment to get all the locations built and staffed. As owners of Fireside, you would receive a percentage of the sales from each location.”
“And this location?” I ask. I’m not sure what I think about all this, but I definitely know what I want with the bar I am sitting in right now, and it is for it to never be anyone else’s but Jeremy’s and mine.
“I thought you might ask. This location would remain yours. And with the new locations in the stadiums and arenas around the country making Fireside a nationally recognized brand—at least among sports fans—you could realistically expect a sizable bump in business at this original location. I know you are already a popular bar, but this would make you a destination.”
Jeremy and I turn to each other, the deer in headlights look on his face I’m sure mirroring the one on mine. Our bar? National?
“Can we have some time to think about it?” Jeremy asks. “We start getting busy in an hour or so, and Ben and I will need to talk about this.”
“Of course.” Kyle reaches into the briefcase at his feet and hands us each a black folder with the Stonegate logo stamped in gold on the front. “Take all the time you need. I know this would be a big move for both of you. These folders have the details of everything we discussed, and my business card with my cell number on it is in there. I’ll be emailing you first thing tomorrow with digital copies of everything in the folders, as well as additional information on all the financials. Feel free to reach out with any questions that might come up as you discuss this. We would love to have both of you at the Stonegate Los Angeles headquarters to meet the team in the sports division and hear more about what a partnership would entail.”
He stands, and Jeremy and I follow.
“It was a pleasure meeting both of you. I hope we speak soon.” He shakes both of our hands again, and then leaves the bar.
Jeremy and I stand absolutely still for at least a minute, before dropping back into the chairs. I feel like I am in another dimension. Did that just actually happen?
