Truly, Madly, Whiskey(32)
“Hell, yes. I love it.” She crossed her arms, narrowing her catlike green eyes. “Why? You can’t fire me. I’m part owner.”
He laughed. “Like I’d ever fire you? Do you want to do more?”
“Duh. Always.” She shuffled papers on her desk and put them in a drawer.
“Dad’s talking about expanding the bar.”
“I know. Mom told me, and she said he wants you to handle it.”
“Yeah.” He leaned his hip on the desk. “But if I’m going to put more time into anything, it’ll be designing bikes, not revitalizing a floundering bar.”
“The bar is not floundering. We turn a profit every month. Besides, you’re amazing at turning businesses around and expanding the clientele, and I’ll help you. I’d love to get my hands on Whiskey Bro’s and bring in a cook and waitstaff and do the kinds of things they do at Mr. B’s microbrewery, like the charity auctions for the community. It’s totally in line with the Dark Knights and Dad’s view of helping others. We could arrange a charity ride and have it end at the bar, raffle off free meals to bring in money for the community and bring in new customers.”
She went on and on with one fantastic idea after another, driving home what Bear already knew. Dixie needed to run the bar.
“I’ll talk to Dad about you handling the expansion. You’re there half of the time anyway, and the planning and business oversight is where you shine. It makes sense.”
“Save your energy,” she said in a deflated voice. “I love him, but the man is ass backward when it comes to women. But I’ll get financial projections together, because you know he’ll want those next. You should get started on the expansion plan.”
He should put something together, but he was in no hurry to perpetuate the inequities, and he couldn’t commit to the project when he was still considering Silver-Stone’s offer. “Thanks, Dix. But I can’t help thinking that maybe it’s time you went out and found another business to run. Something where you can get the credit for the work you’re doing. You deserve more than playing second fiddle to me. I can find someone else to do the books and run the shop.”
“Are you crazy? I love working with you and Tru and working at the bar with everyone. As ass backward as Dad is, I’d still rather work with family than work for some idiot who thinks he knows more than I do.”
Bear wasn’t surprised by her vehemence. “Then you need to handle the expansion.” He thought about telling her about the offer from Silver-Stone, but he didn’t want to put her in the middle of it. Dixie would get on his back about accepting it, and he needed to figure out things for himself first.
“I’m strapped for time, and with Crystal in the picture, I’m not exactly looking to fill my nights with managing a new project of that magnitude.”
She gathered her hair over one shoulder and tapped a red fingernail on the counter, looking up at Bear. “She’s it for you, isn’t she?”
He petted the cat. “Big Mama and I are pretty close, but I’m not sure we’re compatible in the sack.” He smirked and lowered his voice. “Sorry, Big Mama.”
“You’re an idiot.” Dixie laughed. “I mean Crystal. I still can’t get over that you gave her Harley.”
“She needed her more than I did.”
The truth was, he wanted to be Harley, and be there for Crystal night and day. Holding back was killing him. Almost as much as it was eating away at him that she’d gone through so much between losing her father, dealing with her alcoholic mother, and having some * force himself on her.
“Why? Are you two a couple now?”
“Come on, Dix. You know as well as I do that we’ve been a couple for months, just not a conventional one.”
Her eyes narrowed in speculation. “Then why does she suddenly need Harley?”
The door to the shop opened and Quincy walked in, saving Bear from having to come up with an answer. Quincy had come a long way from the strung-out junkie he’d become while Truman was in prison. His blue eyes were clear, and with his longish brown hair and few days’ scruff, he was a dead ringer for Brad Pitt in World War Z. He was thickening out, and acting proud and confident.
“How’s it going?” He strode across the floor and leaned over the desk.
“Hey, Quincy,” Bear said. “What’s up?” There had been a time when their relationship had been strained. When Truman had first gone to prison, leaving thirteen-year-old Quincy in the hands of their drug-addicted mother, Bear had tried to keep Quincy on a straight-and-narrow path. He’d taken Quincy to visit Truman every week until Quincy began disappearing, hanging with the wrong crowds, getting drunk and stoned. Bear had tried to get him help up until the day Quincy had gone missing for good, only to resurface years later, standing over his mother in the crack house where she’d overdosed.
But that was behind them now. Quincy had gone through intense rehab, passed his GED, and was now taking college courses and had a stable job at a local bookstore. He’d even cleared his brother’s name for the crime he’d committed.
“Do y’all have any issue with me getting a roommate?” Quincy asked. “The community college doesn’t offer some of the classes I want to take, and the bigger universities’ online classes are more expensive.”