Chapter 28

Blowing out a breath, I push open the door to the bar and step inside. The scent of old beer and whiskey greets me. The jukebox croons out tunes from another era, its speakers delivering a soundtrack of blues, rock, and country. A neon sign advertising daily specials glows over the eclectic assortment of decor on the walls.

Regulars perch on well-worn bar stools, nursing their drinks as they talk or sing along with the jukebox.

Behind the bar, Trina wipes down a glass with a rag, her beady eyes locking on me, instantly filling with disgust. In the corner, a game of pool is being played and I look away from Trina to see who is winning.

"Moonie! How are you tonight?" I ask as he hits the cue ball with his pool stick.

"Doing good, baby. You closing us down tonight?"

"Sure am. Once bitchy pants leaves, I'll buy you a shot." I wink and he throws his head back, laughing.

As I walk past the long end of the bar, Trina walks with me but behind the bar.

"You're here early. What's the deal?" She narrows her eyes.

I stop and look at her. "Nothing bad. I just need to talk to Kevin."

"He's in his office. You ain't taking no more weekends off. I'm not working em' and Lisa can't handle weekend nights."

"Trina, did I miss the announcement of you becoming bar manager and schedule maker?" I tilt my head, pursing my lips.

I shouldn't goad her but I can't help it. Her shitty attitude pisses me off. I thought I could easily put aside the fact that she gave Ali information about me, but seeing her here now is proving different.

I head through the door to the back, rolling my eyes when I hear her mutter, "Fucking bitch," under her breath.

Knocking on the office door, I wait a few seconds and open it. Kevin is sitting at his desk, forehead resting in one of his hands, while he stares at some paperwork.

"Kevin, do you have a minute?"

He looks up at me and smiles. "Yeah. What's up, Sloane? Please don't tell me you're quitting."

I smile. "Not quitting."

I take a deep breath, ready my thoughts, and remind myself I practiced this speech with the guys and had Branson draft up the paperwork, in case this works.

"I want to buy the bar. I'm prepared to make you an all-cash offer."

The pen he's holding drops from his fingers as his jaw drops.

"You want to buy this shit hole? Are you serious?"

"Yes." I reach into my bag and grab the contract that Branson sent over this afternoon. "I'm offering one hundred and twenty-five thousand. It is slightly low, but it's all cash and the place does need some renovation and repairs. I'll need two to three weeks of transition time, just to get the utilities switched to my name and the distributors to know I'm now the owner. We can transfer the liquor license to me if you agree. I have filled out the application and asked them to expedite it, along with my background check, and paid the fee. I just need you to say yes."

"That's it? I stay and just hang out pretty much while we switch everything to you and they put your name on the license. You give me one hundred twenty-five grand, and I don't have to worry about this shit anymore? This place barely keeps its own lights on. You're aware of that?"

"I am. Do we have a deal?" I hold my hand out for him to shake and he looks at my hand, my face, then back to my hand.

"Fuck yes. You can make it one twenty even if you fire Trina while I'm here."

I bark a laugh and pull my hand away. Trina is always hanging on him and I know I've caught them on more than one occasion getting it on in the walk in or this very office.

"Why? I'm not turning you down, but I thought you and her were like a thing?"

"Hell no. She's got lips like a hoover, but I can't stand her. I know what you're thinking. Listen, I had needs, and she agreed to take a pay cut if we fucked. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"She paid you pretty much to suck your dick?" I"m shocked because, if anything, it should be the other way around. It"s literally how I'm able to hand this man all this cash right now; someone paid for my pussy.

"Yeah. She ain't the brightest crayon in the box." He shrugs.

"Deal. She was getting canned anyway."

I hand him half the money and he doesn't even count it, just sets it on his desk and signs the papers signing his bar over to me.

"I'll send the papers in officially for the license and we'll just need to transfer the deed."

"No problem. I'll be here every day the same as I am now until everything is done. That work?" he asks.

"Fine with me. I'll give you the other half of the money when the deed and license are done. That way, if any issues arise, neither of us ends up screwed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a bartender to fire." I leave his office and head to the bar where Trina is making a Bacardi and Coke.

I feel Kevin behind me, but I don't look to see if he's enjoying the show he's about to get. Trina sets the drink down in front of the gentleman she's serving and tosses the money into the register.

"Everything okay?" She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at us. "Oh no, Sloane, did you quit? No, you got fired, didn't you?"

"No. I'm good. Great even. Still very much employed. But you aren't." The corners of my lips turn up slightly.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You're fired, Trina. And banned from the property. Turn in your key and collect your final check from Kevin." I stay composed, keeping my tone neutral.

This isn't a debate, and I don't want any issues. She's fired and that's that.

"You can't do that." She stomps her foot at me.

"She can. I just sold her the place. She owns the joint," Kevin steps in.

"What about our deal, Kevin, baby?"

"It's off, sorry. I don't own a bar to employ you. The deal is over."

"Don't make this more awkward than it is, Trina. Just go."

"This isn't over, bitch. I needed this job," she spits, throwing her key on the bar in front of me and shoving past, storming to the door.

I pay her no mind, heading behind the bar to cash out her drawer and get set up for my shift.

When everything is good to go, I pull my phone from the pocket of my hoodie to text the guys.

Me- It's done. I now own a bar. You sure this was a good idea?

Ripley- Yes. We'll fix it up and do some advertising. It's going to be fine.

Atlas- You said you always wanted to own a bar and now you do. You're going to kill it baby

Me- I know. I'm anxious lol. I just bought a fucking business. Holy shit!

Atlas- Don't use that word unless you're going to come home and ride my face and dick

Me- What word?

Atlas- Fucking

Atlas- Now I'm hard thinking about you

Ripley- Christ, we have tile to finish yet.

I giggle because I still am in disbelief that I'm fucking a father and son duo and it's just… normal? Or as normal as it can be.

Me- You're still there? Don't do too much too late.

Ripley- Remember who the boss is, little girl.

Atlas- Uh-oh you made Daddy mad now

Me- Yes Daddy

Ripley- Goddammit

I slide my phone under the bar and get to cleaning and making a list of all the things I want to do inside and ideas for events and nights to draw a crowd.

They're right. While I wasn't really ever planning on buying a bar, I did dream of it here and there while working. So why not? I wouldn't have the money to do it any other time and the world always said there is no reward without risk.

Now, let's hope my risk will give me my reward.