24. Colder

Callahan had beenabsent for the whole damn week and left me in charge of Lonegan's. I didn't get a chance to talk to him about maybe increasing my duties at the bar.

Hell, I didn't know what I wanted to do.

Cal had asked me to do more managerial tasks over the years I'd worked there, but I hadn't been too keen on the responsibilities. I knew the bar backward and forward, but I was more than happy to leave at the end of my shift.

I didn't want to worry about schedules and time off or spreadsheets, for God's sake. But I stepped up while he was off dealing with his newest acquisition. He'd been pretty hush-hush about what it was, but I could tell his attention was elsewhere.

We had a good staff and Cal still stopped in to check in, but there was no real time to talk to him. Even with the extra hours at the bar, I still spent every spare moment with Naomi.

April was speeding by and as usual with New York lately, we were barely getting a spring before the warmer temperatures were upon us.

When Iona was in town, we spent time up in the rooftop garden before our lessons. When she was gone, we rarely came up for air.

I couldn't get enough of Naomi. Most of the time, we spent afternoons together. Sleep wasn't exactly at the top of my list since I worked around her writing schedule and my hours at the bar.

As one week faded into two, I grew more frustrated.

Naomi was in the thick of her book and I could tell that as each day passed, she was becoming more keyed up, as well. Iona and I kept encouraging her to use the time to write and not worry about finding a job just yet.

By the end of April, Naomi was more distracted than present, and it was taking me longer to lure her away from the keyboard.

I let it go some nights, even if it left me with a sleepless night without her. The only good thing was by morning she was crawling into my bed. It annoyed the hell out of me that I didn't sleep well without her next to me.

I'd been in a few long-term relationships, but none surprised me as much as how I felt about Naomi. Or how quickly it happened.

After less than a month, I couldn't imagine not having her next to me every night.

But again, what the hell did I have to offer her? A studio apartment that we couldn't even live in together if we wanted to. There was nowhere for her to work, and I couldn't afford a bigger place without a serious bump in pay.

I made damn good tips, but it wasn't money I could count on.

I took my frustrations out on the bar as I did a deep clean before we were to open. Mondays were slow and we didn't open until evening. It was my usual day off, but again, Cal had asked me to cover for him.

Since Naomi wasn't coming up for air without a crowbar these days, I'd rather keep busy, anyway.

Cordelia, one of our waitresses, knocked on the door. She'd get the rest of the dining room ready for our opening in an hour. I unlocked the door and let her in, seeing Danny coming up right behind her. "Hey, guys."

"No Cal again?"

I shook my head. "He said he'd swing by, but he probably won't be staying."

Cordelia whistled. "Man, the new place is taking up a lot of his time. Has he finally told anyone what it's going to be yet?"

"Nope." I locked the door again just in case someone came by and tried to come in before we were officially open. "Danny, can you fill the ice bins? I deep cleaned them so they're empty."

"You got it." Danny hurried behind the bar.

"We're going to end up calling you boss man soon."

I laughed. "I don't know about that."

Cordelia patted my arm. "I bet we will."

Would that be so bad?

There wasn't any time to dwell on that as we did the rest of the opening prep. Because Mondays were notoriously slow, we had a trivia night once a month. The usual suspects started arriving soon after the doors opened.

The grill was open, and our part time cook kept baskets of appetizers flowing. From the standard fare of fries, beer pretzels, and mozzarella sticks to our signature crazy potatoes, there was as much food going out as pitchers of beer.

It was a clear night and we had the doors wide open to get a little of the cool night air—mostly because there were a helluva lot of shit talking going on tonight with the groups in for trivia.

The night sped by, and by last call, I was wiped out.

We didn't stay open very late, and I couldn't say I was mad about it today. I was happy to find my bed and hopefully, a warm and willing Naomi.

Just as I was letting the small staff out and locking up, Cal's truck pulled up out front.

He rushed in with a quick grin. "Hey, how tired are you?"

Beat as fuck, but it wasn't like Cal to ask. "I got some life left in me."

He nodded to the other side of his truck. "Get in. I want to show you something."

Surprised by Cal's offer, I almost forgot to engage the alarm. I jogged back in when it started beeping. Great, that made me look very managerial in front of my boss.

I hurried back to the truck and got in. "What's up, Cal?"

Cal tipped back his baseball hat. He was dusty as hell and there was a dark teal streak of paint along his forearm. "Want to show you something."

"Okay. Everything good?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

He glanced over at me. "Guess we'll see."

Cryptic as fuck. Cal was hard to read. He was a fair boss, but he definitely wasn't one to really want to know much about the personal lives of his employees—and vice versa.

He pulled out onto Kensington Boulevard and drove down past the club a few blocks away from the bar. When he turned on to Royal Street, I frowned. I couldn't say I'd ever been down this way.

There were a handful of empty office buildings in this part of town. It was part of the new builds going on in this part of Kensington Square. He parked in front of a cream-colored building wedged between tall brick office structures in varying stages of rehab.

One looked like it was going to be a restaurant, while the other looked to be made up of shop spaces.

He hopped out of his truck and headed up the freshly power-washed walkway, leaving me to follow. I shook my head and slammed my door shut. I peered up at the odd-shaped window that looked a little like a key. It was dark, but I could tell the wide circular window was definitely some sort of stained glass.

The cream brick was old and worn, but it had obviously been scrubbed recently. A pair of lights flicked on as Cal opened the front door.

"Coming?"

"Yeah, sorry." Quickly, I jogged up the stairs to meet him at the ornate door. "This place is amazing."

"Wait until you see inside."

He disappeared into the dark building and suddenly, lights flared to life. Chandeliers glittered with all I could describe was weathered gold. The floor was stunning with intricate patterns that drew the eye deep through the lobby to a set of doors.

A small plaque was screwed into the wall in a typical Art Deco font. The ornate lettering spelled out Velvet Noir. The door was brass and polished to an inch of its life.

The outside street did not match the inside, that was for sure.

Velvet ropes were tucked against the wall in lush black and brass. Cal had a huge, old-fashioned key in his hand as he opened the doors. A large sign with hand painted letters said Speakeasy in scrolling gold detail.

The walls were dark, as was the jet-black carpet with brushed gold inlay. A massive velvet couch in dark teal sat beneath the sign with two massive potted monstera plants on either side.

It was obviously created for a social media moment, and I could picture a ton of selfies getting taken on the couch.

Cal stood to the side of the doors, waiting for my reaction. I didn't even know what to freaking say. He nodded for me to keep walking inside.

There were stairs down into what could only be described as a basement space. The ceilings were low, and the dark wood and glittering chandeliers made the space beyond opulent. More teal couches were tucked into the strange nooks and crannies of the space.

I'd read about speakeasies, but I'd never seen one firsthand.

Back in the Prohibition era, people had been forced to drink in secret. Often the spaces were hidden in buildings, especially in basements or hidden rooms.

This looked as if it was a mix of both. Cobbled together add-ons made for weird corners that were perfect for privacy and intimate spaces. Oversized chairs and couches looked handmade to fit in the nooks. Gleaming black tables were tucked away for drinks. Sconces lit the dark walls, showing off the artwork in ornate frames.

But the real showpiece was the bar.

It took up the entire back of the room with old oak barrels cut to make it look like port windows. Each one was lit underneath with a mirror on the back and a single shelf showing off high-end whiskeys, gins, ryes, and rums.

The bar itself was a rich walnut color and gleamed under the sparkling lights.

"Holy shit."

Cal stood at the end of the bar with his arms folded. "Yeah. I've been working my ass off over here. And I couldn't have done it if I didn't know you were taking care of Lonegan's. I wanted you to be the first one to see it."

My chest tightened. "Yeah, man, of course. You know how much I love the bar."

"I do. And I admit it was two-fold. I've been trying to get you to do more managerial shit."

I laughed. "Yes, you have. And I know I've been…"

"A slippery fucker?" Cal pulled off his cap and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. It was shorn short on the sides and back but he had a whole lot of it on top. As he scooped it back, I finally saw exactly how tired he was in the lines of strain that fanned out from his eyes.

"I wanted to talk to you about that actually, but you've been preoccupied." I shoved my hands in my pockets, nerves suddenly churning in my gut. It was now or never.

"Fair. But you've been doing a great job. Far exceeding what I'd hoped actually. Which is also why I wanted to show you this place."

"I appreciate that. I would really like talk to you about managing Lonegan's."

"Nah. I don't think that's for you."

My stomach dropped. I nodded. "Okay. I understand."

No, I really didn't. I was damn good at my job. I was about to open my mouth and state my case when he held up a finger.

"I want you to run this place."

"What?"

Not what I'd expected. At all.

"This place is going to be pretty unique. And it's going to take some time to get the whole social media machine going for it. But I need a young guy in here. Doesn't hurt that you're hot as fuck."

My eyes widened.

"Don't worry, I'm not hitting on you, kid. I just know aesthetics. And you have them. I could do it, but I think this crowd will definitely run to the young and slick set. I need a good bartender with stamina. You know how to make drinks and how to talk to customers. This place is made for you."

"I don't know what to say."

"We'll write up your salary requirements and make a contract. Getting a new business off the ground isn't for the weak. And hell, it's niche as fuck so it may go under in a year. I really don't know. But I think you'd be good at this, Colder." He held out his hand. "What do you say?"

I shook his hand. "I say yes."

"That's what I'm talking about." Cal grinned. "Guess that means you're going to want to talk to your girl."

"It's one of the reasons why I want to…be more."

"For a girl?" His eyebrow arched.

"Nah, she was just the catalyst." I grinned. "But yeah, some of it is because of her."

"Naomi is a great lady. Hope she's ready for you to be working your ass off. Can you not say anything about it just yet?"

I frowned.

"I don't want it to get out and I know how The Heights can be. Gossip central."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's true. It'll be worth it."

Cal nodded. "I think you're right. We'll figure out the logistics, but I wanted to feel you out before I got too much further into this. I'll want your input on hiring and menu items. Better get your research hat on."

"Handily, I have a girlfriend who's really good at that. I'll just tell her we're looking to do some speakeasy night menus at the bar."

Cal nodded. "That works for me."

It was the first time I'd actually said girlfriend out loud. And it was true. I didn't want anyone other than Naomi in my life.

Now I just had to prove it to her.