by Casey Morgan
Alex was saying something similar to his brother, but was making it more about a competition of who could help her the best, or for the longest, not about the necessity of it.
Travis was already bounding across the crowded floor, beelining for Gwendolyn. As I watched him capture her grateful attention, leaned against the bar, pointing to various things he could help with, I felt silly. Self-conscious. Selfish and immature for worrying about how my presence was going to negatively affect her, more than how I might be able to help her. How my presence could be useful, not distracting. I saw that now, and wasted no time in going to help as well.
Gwendolyn was grateful to Travis and to me. To Alex as well, as the three of us quickly acclimated to being her assembly-line workers for drinks and food. For helping her serve the influx of guests and orders. Though I hadn’t had much food experience since college (I did help out in the student cafeterias for one or two semesters), I knew enough. And what I didn’t feel comfortable with or know off the top my head, I looked to Travis for guidance. For inspiration. Alex as well, since they both seemed to be in their element.
David, however, looked as though he was a fish out of water about to be fried. He tried to be helpful. Tried to help deliver items to tables, and even take down a few orders, but he quickly lost himself and his grace and dignity in all the noise. In all the moving bodies and simultaneous conversations.
Still, he never gave up. He never threw in the towel.
David kept on going. Kept on trying to help wherever he could, fixing mistakes wherever he made them, always trying to do better with each passing moment.
I admired that. I finally understood more now than ever why David was the mastermind behind our company. Why he seemed to be our leader, however unofficially that might be. He had experience. Poise. Composure, even if he didn’t look as comfortable as we felt. He still showed up. He still made the best of an unfamiliar situation, and I finally understood that that was what good entrepreneurs did. They improvised, even when they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing. They were confident, even when they weren’t sure if any of this would go in their favor.
Which is something I really need to get better at. I need to trust my value and my skills more. Especially up against those guys. Under these thoughts, I watched Alex goof around a bit. He made Gwendolyn laugh, while Travis tried to impress her with juggling some beer mugs and bottles. He impressed some of the onlookers as well, though he never looked at any of the women looking at him. He did look at Gwendolyn, though.
And that gave me all the confidence I needed to continue to stick it out. To realize what a good decision it had been to come with them after all. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here to give them a run for their money. And they all could use a bit more competition.
For the next two hours Alex and Travis were exemplary servers, order-takers and general managers of the chaos. As for me, I spent the next two hours helping Gwendolyn manage the extra money in the till, all the extra change coming across the table, while David made himself indispensable to the new customers arriving and needing seating. Which, for those two hours, was a busy, never ending throng.
But finally, after those two hours, things began to wind down. Things slowed noticeably, and the moment they did, Gwendolyn put in orders for her food and ours with the cook. She ordered a massive burger covered in blue cheese, jalapenos and bacon.
I ordered a monster salad, made with kale, cucumber, broccoli, carrots tomatoes and all sorts of goodness, plus an avocado-ranch dressing, it was called The Green Giant.
Travis ordered onion rings and a loaded hotdog. Chili dog, I think it was.
David ordered fish and chips.
And Alex? He ordered a grilled cheese. Can you believe that? Out of everything at the pub, the guy ordered a grilled cheese. Sure, it had some caramelized onions, a bit of ham or bacon sprinkled in amongst the cheese slices, but still. That, plus a big glass of milk was the biggest little-kid thing he could’ve ordered.
I was glad to hear his older brother razz him about his order, but that soon got lost in the pleasure of good food, and Gwendolyn’s good company. She looked relaxed and happy. Grateful for everyone’s help. Even so, she looked especially grateful for my presence. My helping hand. The same one reaching under the edge of the bar and holding hers at the moment.
The way she smiled and looked at me, it was like she knew I’d been debating whether I should come at all. It was like she knew I had been beating up on myself, wondering if I was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
As our food arrived courtesy of the cook and the dishwasher stepping away from their primary roles for a moment, I saw Gwendolyn mouth, “thank you” to me. “For coming tonight, for giving me the hand I needed,” she added softly, squeezing my hand. Letting me lace my fingers in hers.
And that’s when I felt as though I’d reached Nirvana. Beyond cloud nine.
Sure, to other people, it was just “holding hands” but that’s not how this felt to me. This was way beyond anything I had ever felt with any other woman, even when I had done many other things. This was worlds away, universes away from all that.
And that’s when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Gwendolyn was special. Special enough to fight for, even if I sometimes saw myself as the fourth wheel.
Chapter Fifteen
Gwendolyn
Four guys, my burger and various fried things.
If anyone had told me yesterday morning that tonight I would be having a dinner date with those exact three things, I’d have told them they were out of their fucking mind. Completely crazy, because I had not even had anything resembling a date with one guy, let alone four at once.
No one I knew did that sort of thing. Or would, if given the chance.
But I didn’t regret it. As I sat there, munching on my burger and fries, savoring the thick and juicy meal after a full day of basically running on fumes, I didn’t regret a damn thing. Not my dinner choice, or my choice of company.
Particularly not Eric’s hand in mine. For some reason I’d gotten the feeling that he was debating whether to come and see me tonight along with all of his friends. But I was glad he had chosen otherwise. I was enjoying getting to hold his hand. Feel his sweet energetic sanctuary wrap around me like a blanket. A cloak of heavenly feathers, almost.
But it wasn’t just him that I enjoyed, even though I was currently holding his hand. I enjoyed having three my boys there, even though I couldn’t help thinking of the missing fourth one: Robert.
Why wasn’t he interested in me like the others were?
I couldn’t get his handsome face and tall, strong body off my mind. Maybe he was just playing hard to get. But our little group didn’t feel complete without him. My boys and I were getting along well, but I would like to add Robert to the mix.
My brain couldn’t believe I had just labeled them as my boys and not human men who had been strangers until yesterday night, especially where the conversation had turned to.
I asked them where they usually hung out. Their usual watering hole for beer and snacks, since I hadn’t seen them before yesterday, and everyone I knew had their own “usual” spots. Their go-to watering holes. That one question had opened up a plethora of information in between bites and crunchings of food and sides.
“We usually go to an exclusive club and lounge called Black Diamond,” said David, having to look over a few heads to see me, his brother’s and Travis’s. Travis being the closer to me of the two. “It’s only for people who have a lot of money or make a lot of money, which we all are one or the other of. Both in my case, and my brother’s.”
“And me,” said Eric, but it wasn’t arrogant at all the way he said it.
This bit of information didn’t surprise me about them. From the very first time I saw them, I could tell they were successful. They wore nice enough suits and watches last night. Now that I knew they owned Reverb Tech it made a lot of sense, but what did surprise me was their humil
ity about it. Their grace and dignity about it. Especially when compared to people like Maxine and Carl Axelrod who had now a lot of money, but absolutely no class to go with it.
“I like it a lot there, at Black Diamond,” said Travis. “It’s got a very classy, modern feel to it. A lot of black and silver. Gray in places. Inlaid lighting, stereo and music systems. Comfy furniture and everything, including fancy ingredients for drinks and food.”
“It’s a lot different than this place,” said Alex. “A lot of people say they like the atmosphere. The way the place makes them feel when they are there. Like they get to taste the richer, less stressful life. And who doesn’t want to be richer and less stressed, am I right?”
I nodded. I was familiar with the Black Diamond club. It was owned by Jorin Leblanc, a local vampire who had lived in Love’s Hollow for three hundred years. Jorin had weathered the influx of humans into our little town well, creating a club where the rich enjoyed themselves. I always figured he used a bit of magic to draw in his clients.
It wasn’t just eating and drinking that went on at the Black Diamond club. Instead, they had auctions where women sold dates— or more— to men. In fact, it was one of the few places in Love’s Hollow where paranormal creatures and humans mixed. And by mixed, I meant, exchanged hugs, kisses, even bodily fluids if the price was right.
As Alex took a big bite of his grilled cheese sandwich, stuffed some beer-batter fries alongside it, I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Sure. I’d love to be a little richer and certainly a lot less stressed,” I said, feeling a little bit embarrassed for admitting something like that so openly. So transparently. I took a bite of my food, to cover my embarrassment.
“Of course,” said David, making eye contact with me as if I might dart away from him any moment, “my brother and I certainly don’t say anything like that to offend you or your business. Not at all, Gwendolyn, so I hope you haven’t taken any of what we said in that way. It was not our intention.”
I heard Eric gasp like someone else had just stolen his heart. “Oh no! I hope you didn’t think that! I quite like it here.”
I looked at him, smiling. Squeezing the hand of his, still held in one of mine. “Of course not! Why would I be offended? I was the one who asked where you guys usually hang out. And I asked for a reason,” I said, making eye contact with each of them. “I wanted to know what the differences were between there and here. If there was anything I could learn.”
“Anything that would give our regular hangout more customers compared to yours, you mean?” asked Travis.
He was cocky. Direct. And the way he gazed at me, as if he wanted me to challenge him, that just made me a little wet and tingly. Even more so, when both Alex and David threw him a glare and a punch on his shoulder, which I wasn’t expecting from David.
“Travis!” he growled.
“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Alex added, finishing his brother’s sentence and his insult.
Eric? I just heard him growl from the other side of me. Mutter something under his breath about having absolutely no class, despite liking that classy place.
I quickly moved to cool down tempers, and keep any more egos from possibly getting bruised.
“Calm down, guys,” I said. “Relax. It’s really no big deal.”
I looked at Travis, smiling at him. Giving him a bit of mischief as I did. Especially as he clamped his hand on my leg from under the table. A gesture that, for now went unnoticed by the other three seated at the bar.
“And it’s true, really. This place does need something else going for it. Some more things to draw more customers in, otherwise I’m going to be in a really bad way, really soon.”
Travis lost his cocky look, but not the hold he had on my leg with his strong, expert fingers. “I thought you might say that.”
“I hoped you wouldn’t say that,” said Alex.
“I wish you didn’t have to,” said Eric.
“The lack of customers is more obvious than a bald spot,” I said, taking responsibility for this burden. “It’s been something I’ve been trying to fix for a while now, but haven’t known exactly what to do, or if I can do anything at all.”
I went silent for a moment, realizing how good it felt to be honest, even if it was with four human men I didn’t know all that well, but knew I could trust. Somehow, I did know that, and somehow, I also knew they would help me get to the bottom of this. That they had the knowledge and experience to give me some guidance. Guidance my brothers could never and would never be able to provide. Not without worrying too much over their sister.
Going silent for a moment, I gave the situation some thought. In addition to that, I mulled over what they’d said about their usual spot. What the vibe of it was. How modern it was, compared to this. The swank and style it seemed to have, that this was obviously lacking.
Sure, The Lucky Spell Pot had its own particular “charm” if you liked old English styled pubs or Wild-West-style saloons, which this was a sort of bastard child of, but as I had been fearing, it wasn’t drawing people in. It wasn’t resonating with them, making it a definite relic. A definite carryover from a bygone era, despite being a small-town institution. Sometimes history didn’t sell well enough. Sometimes it needed more than that.
I wasn’t about to make it into some auction house or near-brothel, which was what Black Diamond essentially was. An upscale, classy brothel, at least. But I could certainly modernize it.
An update, which is what I tailored my questions to next. All the while feeling Travis move his hand slowly up my knee to my thigh.
“An update, do you think it would help? If I ‘classed up’ this place—you know, made it a little less ‘last century rustic and falling apart’ and more ‘modern rustic with a swanky twist’ I don’t even know what that means—but if I give this place a real update. More than just renovations or additions, but an actual makeover in the vibe of the place, do you think more people would come hang out? Do you think more people would feel inclined to come and stay? To spend more money and make priceless memories here?”
I knew I just asked a bunch of questions, and all of them with no real straightforward answer, but I had to know right now. If an update to the pub’s image and overall vibe was in order, I needed to know. So that I could make those changes, and hopefully change the future of this pub.
The most important thing my great great grandmother had started, and those successive generations had worked to maintain and grow.
But you need money to do that, genius, my inner critic piped in. You need money that you don’t have to make the money you can’t afford to keep losing. Failing to rake in.
Initially, none of the guys noticed the fall in my face, the pinch in my lips and eyes. They were too busy answering my question. At least Travis was, followed by Eric, who seemed to have realized the more physical competition going on underneath the table on my leg.
“I would definitely say a renovation, and image update in that sense would be worth it.”
As Eric said this, he put his own hand on my leg. On the opposite one, squeezing a bit tighter, as if to say no to Travis that this wasn’t uncontested ground.
Travis squeezed back a bit harder on his side, bringing my attention to him, but not in an uncomfortable way. “Totally worth it. I realize that this place has been around a while. Has a lot of history, so whatever updates you do, you want to hire a really good contractor. Someone who knows how to work with the walls and the wood, not just bash through it.” I nodded, liking the sound of that. In theory.
Sure, a good contractor was great. If you had the money.
Which, of course I did not.
Chapter Sixteen
Gwendolyn
I was already trying to pay off a loan I had taken out a few years earlier to do renovations and redesign work when I first inherited The lucky Spell Pot, and I’d spent a pretty penny of someone else’s money to do so. Money that was getting more expensive. Both from the interest accruing
, and for the fact that I was not able to accrue regular, sustainable customers.
Thanks to the mother-fucking Axelrods.
Travis smiled, oblivious to my money woes. To being in so much red you didn’t think you would ever see black. Not until your business went belly up, and all your dreams were dead and buried six feet under.
“Get a contractor like that in here, get them to find the pulse of your pub — the kind of vibe and unique characteristic that could and would draw people to it – and you have yourself a winner. More nights like the one we just helped you through, Gwendolyn. A bar isn’t just about the food or drinks. It’s about the atmosphere, as you’ve kind of touched on. People don’t just want to eat or drink certain things. They want to feel certain things when they come to visit you. And they want to like those things that they feel.”
“Which some of us do,” groused David. “And some of us need to remember that she doesn’t have all the money in the world for these renovations. These updates, no matter how much they might help her. They won’t do any good, if they are out of reach.”
“And before you say anything, either of you, any of you,” I corrected myself, remembering that there were more than two or three people possibly wanting to rush in and save me financially, (in addition to my brothers), “No, I’m not going to be taking any offers for money. Any loans from any of you, no matter how much you ask me too, no matter how you make it sound.”
Eric looked crestfallen to this, as did Alex and David, as if I had read their minds and squashed their idealism before it even bloomed.
