I watch the five and ten dollar bills pile up in her hands, and the tears I’ve been stubbornly keeping at bay start to prick the corners of my eyes. It’s like a bunch of kids deciding they’re going to buy a swimming pool with the nickels and dimes they collect at a lemonade stand; it’s not enough to even make a dent in the cost, but it means the world to see they’re willing to try.
I’ve always known how much Taverne Toulouse means to me. This is the first time I’ve come face to face with how much it means to them.
“Thank you,” I manage to force out past the lump in my throat. “This is incredibly sweet. Maybe we could donate it to—”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Dylan interrupts as DeeDee walks up and deposits the cash into my shaking hands. “The only place that’s being donated to is your future ownership of Taverne Toulouse. I was serious about buying a share. I’ve been thinking about investing in something. What’s a better investment than Monroe?”
He looks around the group for support and gets a chorus of agreement.
“My bank keeps telling me I need to ‘make my savings work harder for me,’” Lisanne, one of our longstanding servers, chimes in. “Who’s going to work harder for my money than Monroe? I’m in.”
“I just paid off my student loans. What’s another few years of debt?” one of the cooks jokes.
I shake my head. “You guys can’t be serious.”
“There’s, what? Fifteen of us?” Dylan levels with me before doing a quick head count. “Make that sixteen, plus however many other people we can round up. I think sixteen people should be able to buy a bar together.”
“It’s a bar on one of the most desirable streets in the city,” I remind them. I’ve already received my reality check. I hate to be the one to deliver theirs, but they need to face the facts before they get carried away. “This isn’t just some kind of fundraiser. This comes with a risk. You’re tying your assets up in a business that’s already failing. Even if it was possible for us to somehow afford it together, that’s a huge commitment to make.”
Zach gets up and makes his way over to stand beside me.
“I’m not afraid of commitment,” he tells me before turning to face the group, “and I think we can do this.”
Dear lord, how is DeeDee dating a guy with a spider tattoo on his neck when she could be with this wonderboy right here?
One by one, they all get up and join us at the front.
I look at each of their faces. There’s no hesitation. There’s no fear. I know most of these people wouldn’t be able to spare more than fifty bucks. There’s only a handful who could actually afford a significant share. A few of them could probably secure the same kind of loans as me, but that’s not a risk I would ask of anyone but myself. This is too much. It’s far too much.
“I really appreciate this, but—”
“Watch it with the butts, lady,” DeeDee orders.
“We can at least run the numbers,” Zach adds, “and see what we’re actually working with.”
“I know for a fact you’ve done at least fifty favours for everyone in this room,” Dylan states. He gives me a stern look, and I know we’re both thinking of more than what I’ve done for his slam group. I hired him despite the fact that he did jail time for dealing. “You took a chance on a lot of us when no one else would. Let us do something for you. We all know how you feel about this place. Let us help you save it and turn it into something even better than it is now.”
“Staring with thosemauditbathroom tiles!” Lisanne shouts to general applause.
The bathroom tiles really are awful.
“Well.” I pause and survey the group a final time. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to run the numbers.”
Dylan thumps me on the back as DeeDee pulls two twenty dollar bills out of my grasp and scurries behind the bar.
“Tequila!” she shouts in explanation, waving the money like a victory flag before dropping it in the register. “On me!”
She pours the shots in record time like the seasoned pro she is and passes them out without spilling a drop. When we’ve all got our hands on some alcohol, she raises her own shot glass to make her trademark toast.
“One for the road,hein!”
“To Taverne Toulouse!” Zach adds.
“To Monroe, the best boss I know all you fuckers have ever had!”
Dylan’s toast is the one that gets echoed, “To Monroe!” falling from everyone’s lips before they tilt their heads back and drink.
It’s the first time an entire room of people has toasted me.
