Speakeasy (True North #5)(68)

Otto sucks on his teeth, his face unreadable. “Wait here,” he finally says.

I take another gulp of oxygen as his footsteps retreat toward the back of the house. See? I can do this. Nice and calm gets the job done.

Too wound up to sit, I pace my uncles’ TV room until I’ve almost convinced myself that things will work out. But when Otto comes back five minutes later, he says something completely inexplicable. “You were cut off for selling growlers out the back door.”

“For selling… What? I would never do that.”

Otto shrugs maddeningly. “I saw you give beer to Zara last month.”

“That was a gift for her, for doing me a favor. And that was a different beer.” Not that it matters. “I would never make an illegal sale.”

“Might be tempting,” Otto says. “There’s profits to be had.”

“No fucking way! It’s not the least bit tempting,” I steam. “Because that’s how people get cut off. Why would I jeopardize my weekly supply to make an extra twenty bucks?” My mind is spinning, trying to figure out why Giltmaker thinks I’d do that.

“He says he watches Craigslist.”

“What?”

“Lyle said something about screenshots of a transaction. He paid somebody for a growler on Craigslist. Was told to pick it up at your bar.”

“Craigslist,” I repeat like a dummy. “That wasn’t me.”

“Better figure out who it was, then.”

I have a horrible idea that I might know who it was. Fuck. “Okay. Thank you for making that call. I obviously have some personnel issues to deal with.”

Otto snickers, and I have to pace the room again so I don’t punch him. I feel like my sixteen-year-old self again. I was always fucking something up, and Otto was always brutal about it.

And yet there’s more pride-swallowing in store for me. It’s the only way to have what I really want.

“One more thing,” I say quietly. “You once offered to invest in the Gin Mill if I’d give you fifty-one percent. I’d like to revisit that.”

For once, I’ve surprised Otto. “Didn’t see that coming. You always were a stubborn thing.”

I actually laugh, because he thinks I’m the stubborn one. And it will kill me to sell a majority stake to Otto. The only silver lining is that it might make May happy. I’m only half a bar owner if I sell out. “Be that as it may, I can’t let Giltmaker buy the place next door when I already have an offer on the table.”

“An offer on what?”

“Before he died, I had a gentleman’s agreement with Hamish. To buy him out.”

“Gentlemen’s agreements mean shit if someone dies. And you don’t have the money.”

All of this is true. “I don’t expect Tad to just hand the place over. But he’ll have to listen when I show him the emails between me and his dad. And I don’t have the money. That’s why I’m asking for your help.”

Otto sits down heavily in his ugly lounge chair. “I gave it to ’em already.”

“What?”

“I funded the Giltmaker deal. I don’t have enough cash to invest in you both.”

“Oh.” I sit down on the sofa, feeling defeated.

“If you’d asked me earlier…”

If only.

“But just because there’s a brewpub next door doesn’t mean you’re done for. It might make your little neighborhood more of a destination.”

“Maybe,” I admit. “But if they do a kitchen and serve food, too, I’m definitely going to be the runner up. I’ll get the overflow crowd only on the good nights.”

“You need to serve food,” Otto says. “Pizza, I think. A pizza oven is pricey but then you don’t need a full-service kitchen. And there’s no good pizza in town.”

“Zara’s new baker is working on that.”

“So you’ll all work it out together. Get your sister involved. Stake out a thing that’s yours and let Lyle peddle burgers or something else.”

Fucking Otto. He’s a dick but he’s also kind of smart. “Thanks. I’ll think it over.” I stand up. “Meanwhile, I have an employee to fire. Which means I have to hire somebody, too.”

“Fun times owning a business.”

“Yeah,” I grunt. Then I take my leave.

Outside in the truck, I sit there for a second, folding my arms on the steering wheel and resting my head against them. I’m getting schooled by life today. But there’s nobody to blame but myself.

I’ve spent the last sixteen years trying to tell Otto that I’m smarter than the party kid he thinks I am. But today his view of things looks exactly right. I am that guy. My full-time employee was shooting heroin and selling beer out of the back door. It took my sister one night at the Gin Mill to flag his behavior as odd.

But I didn’t listen. Smitty was fun to work with, so I didn’t pay attention.

And now I’ll pay for it.





Chapter Twenty-Six





May


It’s four p.m., and I’m watching daytime television. There’s nothing sadder than daytime television. But I’m drowsy from a night’s lost sleep at the hospital, and I can’t use my right hand.