Page 22 of Give My Everything
“Look, Logan, I was thinking it over, and I’m actually free tonight if you wanna grab that beer.”
He doesn’t look at me, but I see him grin.
“I never thought I’d see the day Benjamin Calloway intentionally attempted to make a friend.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but he chuckles.
“It’s my own fault,” he continues. “Clearly, I’m not good at hiding the fact that life is shit right now.”
I cross my arms, my earlier suspicions confirmed. Something is up in Logan Becker’s life.
“Grab a beer with me and you can talk about it. I’m shit at advice—you know that—but I’m a good wall to throw your pasta at.”
At that, he laughs—a real one.
“Where did you get that?” he asks.
I shrug. “You know how people throw pasta at the wall to see if it’s ready?”
“No, I’ve honestly never heard that.”
“Well then you won’t get the joke.”
He laughs again.
“So, beer tonight?”
Logan nods. “That would be great actually. You know a good spot?”
The only thing I can do is smile.
“I know the perfect place.”
“This is quite the view,” Logan says, whistling when we make it to the rooftop after we’ve finished the tour of Bennie’s. “I’m surprised you brew your own beer.”
“It’s the hip thing right now. When I bought the property, the neighboring business approached me about purchasing the back lot oftheirproperty, saying they didn’t have use for it.” I lift a shoulder and take a seat at the bar, which is bustling with the Saturday evening crowd. “The restaurant is booming, but the brewery part is still building.”
“Still, very impressive for a guy who didn’t ever think he could pass calculus.”
I groan, motioning to the bartender. “Don’t remind me. That class nearly killed me. Two Bennie Blues, chilled mugs, please.”
Sonia, one of the bartenders who is leaving in the coming weeks as the summer wraps up, gives me a nod and spins around to get our drinks.
“So tell me about life now,” he says, turning on his stool to face me, one elbow on the bar. “We haven’t talked since you graduated from Stanford. I knew you wanted to open a restaurant and build a—what did you call it? Culinary…kingdom?”
“Culinary empire, actually, but I do like culinary kingdom,” I say, chuckling as I accept the beer from Sonia. “Has a nice ring to it.”
Logan takes a sip. “That’s actually really good. Okay, tell me about your empire.”
“It’s not an empire yet, just the one restaurant, and…I’ve gotten kind of stalled out.”
“Oh really? Anything I can help with?”
I pause, wondering if Logan’s the type of guy I can talk to about this…about everything that happened, about the reason I’m still here, managing this restaurant instead of moving on to the next one.
I’m not the guy who asks for help. Not often, at least. And as much as I can appreciate Logan’s place in my life, I don’t need to get him wrapped up in my mess.
So I only wonder for a moment before I let the thought pass. Even if I thought Logancouldhelp, I wouldn’t ask for it.
