Page 19 of South of The Skyway

Clementine tucked a strand of peppered hair behind her ear, stepping over a bucket of supplies and reaching a handout to steady herself on my shoulder. There was something enchanting about people who assumed a familiarity before it had been established. My mother had the same effect. She gave an exasperated sigh, wiping her other hand on a pair of faded overalls to rid it of shiny charcoal paint.

“What’s a young buck like you gonna plant in my building?”

“First up, I’m thirty-five—”

“Youth.”

“And I’m sitting on a few plans, although for this place, I’d like to utilize what I learned building my bar in Mistyvale and design a speakeasy. Embrace the roaring twenties. Create a space for vintage artists to play their music.” As I explained, the woman’s face gave away nothing, so I just soldiered on. “Spoken word. Community events. Truly bring together a space that celebrates where we came from. Classic vinyl when we don’t have live music.”

“And you’re qualified for this venture? Lemme show you around while we discuss. This is the third room.” Clementine stepped around me, motioning back to the hallway. I pressed myself into the wall to make space as she maneuvered, then followed in her wake. The blur of cars rushing by the front windows was a momentary distraction, and I swallowed, trying to stay focused.

“I’m a born entrepreneur, ma’am. Grew up on the water, third-generation commercial fishing. Stashed my income until I could invest in my first business.”

“Which was?”

“A coffee shop on the harbor.”

“And?” She pointed to a beautiful room full of natural sunlight. Elora would lose her mind at the wainscoting, let alone the warm afternoon glow. I cleared my throat as we approached the front, trying to follow her lead.

“We’ve since expanded.”

“Well done. Are your people happy?”

“Customers or employees?”

“Either? Both?”

“Based on the reviews and the fact that I’ve had the same handful of leads for the last five years straight, I’d say it’s been well received.”

“Why a speakeasy?”

“My next venture was a bar and became a local staple.” It was true. Back home, the bars leaned more towards ‘dive’ than the atmosphere, so it hadn’t taken a lot to set us apart and create a space people wanted to hang out in for more than piss beer and good company. Leaning into a theme would make that all the easier. “I figure if we’re contending with widespread civil unrest and infectious diseases, we might as well embrace the more entertaining aspects of the twenties. Party in plain sight but create a clever requirement for entry—secret passage, mystery lever, code on the old school payphone. Eventually, be reservations-only and a waitlist. Niche down and deliver a one-of-a-kind experience.”

“I like it, Rhyett—can I call you Rhyett?”

“I’d certainly prefer it to Mr. Rhodes.”

“Well then, Rhyett, I think you’re in the right district. You’ve obviously done your research. And I like your moxie. That being said, Tampa is not some rocky outpost in the Bering Sea. Bars are a dime a dozen down here, and your competition is tight.” Mistyvale wasn’t anywhere near the Bering Sea, but I squashed the desire to correct her. Irrelevant anyway.

Instead, I offered, “There’s more than enough business to go around.”

“Cutthroats down here will beg to differ.”

“A rising tide raises all ships. If we elevate the expectation of a memorable experience, the businesses that follow that lead will rise with us.”

The smile lines around her eyes and mouth crinkled before her lips fully curved. She extended a paint-flecked hand for a shake. “Well, welcome to the sunshine state, Rhyett. I look forward to seeing what you bring to the community.”

NINE

BREXLEY

“You know the best thing about America?”

I snorted. “Soul-sucking commercialization and toxic hustle culture?”

“Someone’s particularly stabby today.”

“I need a bucket-sized margarita for the amount of salt I currently possess.”

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