Truly, Madly, Whiskey(60)
Like the rest of us.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Bear said. “The kitchen will need renovating, and we’ll have to hire staff. Offering food will make this place too big to be run as a family business. You’ve got to be cool with that before you do anything.”
His father looked around the clubhouse. “Nothing’s too big for family. We’ve got a damn big family.”
“These guys have jobs,” Bear reminded him. “And we’re all working our asses off. We’ll need a cook, a dishwasher, waitstaff…You can’t expect Dixie, Bullet, Red, or me to handle it all.” He’d called his mother Red since he was a little boy, when he’d heard her friends calling her Wren, her given name, and thought they’d said Red. The name had stuck.
His dad’s mouth curved up in a crooked grin, the left side anchored low. “See? You know exactly what the bar needs. That’s why you’re going to manage it and make it a profitable endeavor.”
Bear sat back, grinding his teeth together. “I’m running the shop and helping out at the bar a night or two a week. I’m maxed out. But Dixie can handle this. She’s at the bar most evenings anyway, and she handled the renovations at the shop when we added the playroom. She could—”
“She’ll be off and married and having babies before we know it,” his father said. “Then what?”
“So you’re just writing her off again?” Bear scoffed. He’d fought this battle before, and he knew damn well his father would win, because without his brothers’ support, after he said his piece, respect would win out, and Bear would back down. Every. Damn. Time.
“She’s doing a hell of a job at the shop, and she’s a fine waitress,” their father said. “She doesn’t need to do more. She can help you out, like she did last time.”
“Help me out? She came home weekends while she was away at college and worked just as hard as I did to turn Whiskey Bro’s around. And after she graduated, she dug her heels in at the shop, too,” Bear reminded him. “You pushed her in college to make sure she excelled. Wasn’t that in preparation for this? Don’t you think she’s earned the right to run a business on her own? I assume you’re going to have her buy in, like the rest of us.”
Just once he’d like his brothers to open their mouths and stand up for Dixie. But while Bullet would give his own life to protect their sister, the same didn’t go for standing up to their father. And Bones? He knew a losing battle when he saw one, and chose his wars carefully. Maybe Bear was driven by the anger coursing through his veins on the heels of learning about what happened to Crystal and not being able to do anything about it, or maybe it was just that he was sick of Dixie being denied what she deserved. Or maybe it’s that I have an offer for what I really want, and I can’t seem to find the balls to take it. For whatever reason, his patience for this bullshit was wearing thin.
“Of course she’ll buy in.” His father leaned his forearms on the table, his eyes moving slowly around the table, coming to rest on Bear and putting a silent end to the battle that hadn’t really been fought. “The question is, how soon can you get a plan together?”
“I’ll have to consult Dixie,” Bear answered, full of piss and vinegar. “She’s the one managing the budget.”
His father grumbled something Bear couldn’t make out.
They talked for another two hours about his ideas and what Biggs envisioned for the bar. Bear was itching to leave, but he was expected to stay, and even if his beliefs weren’t on par with his father’s, he stayed until Red texted their father shortly after midnight. Bear got up to follow his father out.
Bullet growled, “Sit down.”
Bear lowered his ass to the chair, knowing better than to go head-to-head with Bullet at the end of a long night. “What?”
“Why are you giving him shit about Dix?” Bullet asked. “You know damn well he’s not going to budge.”
“Because someone has to.”
“He’s right, Bear,” Bones said. “You know I don’t agree with the old-school bullshit Dad pulls, but you’re trying to change generations of hard-core old-fashioned beliefs. You can’t teach that particular old man new tricks.”
“Bullshit.” Bear crossed his arms and sank back against the chair. “Has it ever occurred to you that I might want to do something other than give all of my time to the bar and the shop? Dixie’s fully capable, and she deserves to manage the project—and get the kudos that goes along with it. From Dad. If the three of us stood together, he’d have to listen. He’s only got one-fifth of the vote when it comes to the businesses.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about respect. You don’t go against the man who brought you into this world.” Bullet sucked down his beer, clearly ignoring the idea that Bear might want to do something other than work with the family business. He probably couldn’t fathom the idea, because Bear was Bear, and it was Bear’s own damn fault.
“Really, B? What kind of bullshit is that? You think it’s cool for women to do the heavy lifting behind the scenes but not get the credit they deserve?”
Bullet leaned forward, his coal-black eyes as mean as a snake’s. “I’ve got no issue with a woman doing anything. It’s not about whether Dix is capable or deserves to do it. It’s about respecting the decisions of the man who raised us.”