2
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Trick
(One Hour Earlier)
I stare downat my phone even though the call has already been disconnected.
I shouldn’t be shocked; I knew this day was coming. Hell, I expected it. I just didn’t expect it quite this soon.
I’ve been running Trick’s for almost five years now, though I’m pretty sure they could have put me on the payroll when I was still in diapers. This bar has been in my family since my grandpa, the original Trick Cavanaugh, opened it in the 60s. My uncle Ben took it over in the 80s and has owned it ever since.
Ben hasn’t been around as much the last few years, but my cousin Nolan and I have fared just fine. I run the front of the house, and Nolan takes care of the kitchen. And our grumpy-ass cousin Danny fills in when we need him.
It’s a good arrangement.
But, Ben just called to say he’s staying in North Carolina. He’s retiring. And he wants us to buy him out.
Like I said, I’m the namesake of the guy who started this bar, and my nickname is blazoned on the sign out front. So, his announcement wasn’t shocking.
But, damn.
Being the manager and being the owner are two different things. And, yea, Ben’s been hands-off for a while, but now it feels like my safety net is being pulled away. And I’m not so sure I’m ready to walk the tightrope that is bar ownership without that safeguard.
But I’m gonna need to get ready.
Because there’s no way I’ll refuse his offer. First off, I’m a bartender. Why would I go bartend for someone else, when staying here and buying makes life easier for Nolan. And for me. Since Ben hung up his apron and turned the kitchen over to Nolan, Trick’s has gone from everyone’s favorite bar to everyone’s favorite place to eat, that also happens to have a great atmosphere. I’m not kidding. He takes bar food to a whole new level. His wings are award-winning and customers love his food so much that he’s even catered a couple weddings this past year.
So yea, Nolan can’t go anywhere--it would be bad for business. But also, Nolanreallycan’t go anywhere...he’s been plagued with agoraphobia since we were kids and it’s only gotten worse. He manages it with medication and therapy and a shit-ton of coping skills, but it’s tough. And the kitchen of this bar is where he feels safe, where he feels at home. So, I’ll do everything in my power to keep him there.
Which means, he and I (and the bank) are buying this bar.
That also means that I’m gonna keep living in the apartment upstairs for the foreseeable future. Looks like my house fund just got appropriated.
And Ben advised me to bring Danny in on the deal, which makes sense, theoretically. He’s related to us. And he’s an accountant, so on paper, it’s a good decision. But he’s also a pain in my ass, so...yeah. He’s not a bad guy, but if there’s nothing to bitch about, he’ll find something. I’d rather not have to include him on my day-to-day decisions.
I need to check with my finance guy, though, and see what he says.
And did I mention that Danny is my finance guy? Yea…
“Shit, it’s really coming down out there.” Nolan interrupts my thoughts as he steps behind the bar and peers out the window.
The forecast is calling for up to six inches by midnight, and that’s a whole hell of a lot for us. Yea, they get more snow up north and out west in the mountains, but we rarely see more than a light dusting.
“Yea, I posted our closing on all the social media and I texted Mike at the radio station. I hope you didn’t prep much yet, or that it’ll keep,” I say hopefully.
“No worries, I didn’t start much and most of it will stay good for tomorrow. Consider the crab dip your dinner, though.” He smiles.
“The sacrifices I make for you,” I joke right back.
“Who’s on tonight?”
“Tina, but I called her a few minutes ago. She’s just as happy to have the night off. The tips would be shit anyway, and the roads look messy. I called Charlie, too, but I had to leave a message. I’m guessing she got it, or she’d have been here by now. She’s usually early.”
Nolan gives me a knowing look, but says nothing. That’s just his way. He’s not a throw-it-in-your-face guy or a prankster. He’s a big-ass teddy bear of a guy in the bulky body of a man who closely resembles a young Mr. Clean. We’ve both got the Cavanaugh height, inherited from our dads and our uncle Ben. Like them, I’ve got dark hair and blue eyes. Nolan’s eyes mirror mine, but his hair is so blonde it’s nearly white. And while I’ve got tons, he’s taken to shaving his. He’s low-maintenance like that
“Maybe you should call her again? Or at least text?” I can tell Nolan’s worried about Charlie. And honestly, so am I. She always picks up her phone, so I’ll admit, I’m a little concerned. But that’s nothing new.
