2. Prologue 2
1418 Words
2
Prologue 2
One Year Ago — Asher’s Engagement Party
“And that’s why I make a toast, here at the engagement party. To the happy couple!” Gunnar yells to the assembled crowd standing at the bar. I stand with my arm around my fiancée Jenna, smiling. My expression isn’t fake, but it is strained. It’s always a little weird to be the one toasted. “May you two live a long and happy life.”
Everyone says “hear, hear!” or “cheers!” and lifts their glasses. I raise my glass of champagne, making eye contact with Jameson, who is skulking over in the corner. He looks tall and brooding in his dark jeans and leather jacket, which is kind of his thing.
Cece, Jameson’s grungy surfer flavor of the week, downs her whole glass of champagne in one swallow. I personally can’t stand the bottle blonde, do-I-have-to-wear-shoes-here thing, but to each his own I guess.
He inclines his head towards me, then takes a sip. Jameson has been a serious prick about my engagement to Jenna, so the fact that he was even invited here tonight is a gift from me to him.
I sip my champagne, turning away from him. It made me uneasy to have these feelings about Jameson, who has been my best friend since we were kids.
“Honey,” Jenna says, handing me her champagne glass. She picks a little invisible speck of lint off of my white button down, smiling. “Could you get me another glass?”
“Sure. I could use something stronger, anyway.”
“Just be sure not to get drunk.” She straightens her black mini dress and flips her blonde hair. “I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong impression of you.”
“Heaven forbid,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I’m serious! There are a lot of people here tonight, not just your grubby friends.”
I’m mildly offended, but glancing over at Jameson and his girlfriend, I can’t really say anything. They are making out now, Cece fisting his leather jacket and pulling him down to her level. Soon enough, they’ll disappear from the party for a while, probably to f**k in a closet somewhere.
I glance at Jenna, who has turned away. I’m almost jealous of Jameson in that regard. Jenna is an ice princess on her best day. But she also happens to be from a family that is wealthier than my family, and my family has money.
The fact that I bagged Jenna, and did it without their help, probably eats my mother and father up at night. That alone is worth ten Ceces, in my opinion.
I turn and head for the bar. The bartender goes to get my drinks, and I’m impressed by how efficiently he moves. Of course he does, I think. Jameson picked this place. Other than surfing, bartending is the only passion Jameson probably has.
Well, that and grimy former strippers.
Still, as I look around at the liquor bottles lined up so neatly, at the bartenders doing their job very diligently, I find myself jealous. If I knew anything about liquor, I would set up a bar in a heartbeat.
I even have a trust fund, set up by my grandparents. I’ve never touched it, afraid to spend even a cent of that money.
I sigh, looking to my right. My little sister Emma is sitting on a barstool at the end of the bar, staring off into space. I look in the general direction that she’s staring, but I just see Jameson and Cece making out.
My eyes linger on Jameson, and I remember my moment of longing. I have a lightbulb moment, of sorts. A fission of energy passes through me, setting my mind on fire.
I could have a bar like this one. Hell, with Jameson’s knowledge and my business prowess, I feel like we could really make something great.
I hesitate, because Jameson has really been a pain in the ass lately about Jenna. He’s been grouchy and downright antagonistic about her, which has led to icy silences and pouting from her side.
But the idea of running a bar with Jameson is so great; him carefully crafting the perfect old fashioned, me handling the day to day worries and the money.
The idea is too appealing to pass up. At the very least, I have to tell him about it.
I move swiftly, my mind made up. I get waylaid by a couple of Jenna’s friends before I can talk to him, of course. But I track him down eventually, before he can make his exit with Cece.
“Hey. You got a minute?” I say.
He swirls the whiskey in his glass and looks at me with amusement. “This whole party is for you. Of course I have a minute.”
“You wanna go outside?” I ask.
Jameson nods and tells Cece he’ll be back. I lead the way to the door, pushing it open. I step out of the air conditioning, trading it for the early evening sea breeze. We’re only a few blocks away from the ocean right now, if the tang of salt in the air didn’t give it away.
I lean up against the rough wood wall of the bar, and Jameson does the same. We both look out at the street while I gather my thoughts.
To my surprise, Jameson speaks first.
“Is this about Jenna?” he asks.
I look at him. He isn’t showing any emotion, but he must be all wound up inside if he thinks I called him out here for a showdown.
“No.” I make my word quick and vehement, so he knows I’m serious. “I mean, lay off Jenna. But no, this is something different.”
His brow knits together as he tries to suss out what I mean. He doesn’t say anything though, so I continue.
“I think we should start a bar.”
His expression of puzzlement is priceless. “You… what?”
“A bar. You set the menu, I handle the money. We both have a say in the atmosphere. Hell, I think your brothers can help run it.”
“What are you f*****g talking about?” He turns to me, leaning on the wall.
“I just had this moment, this sort of inspired moment. I was sipping a drink inside, and I thought… we can do this better. I thought, ‘Jameson and I could really crush it if we had a bar’.”
Jameson looks at me like I might have a head injury.
“You are saying… you were standing at the bar, having what I suppose was a less than stellar drink… and it made you think that we should run our own place??” He looks totally thrown.
“Yeah, man. I have the money. You have the skills…”
He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m at the first job that I’ve worked for more than a year.”
“You’ve been there for like four years.”
“Yeah, and I only remember two of them. The first two were consumed by whiskey and cocaine. Even now, I still can’t stop wanting to f**k every hot chick that walks in the door.”
I grin. “Yeah, yeah. Convince me that you’re not the perfect guy to open a restaurant with. And what about Cece?”
He frowns. “What about her?”
“I thought she was… nice. And that you guys had a connection, or whatever.” My lack of sincerity shows, and he rolls his eyes.
“What about you?” Jameson asks. “You’ve never made anything more complex than a rum and coke. You’ve never been in the service industry. You’ve never managed anyone…”
“That’s not true!” I chip in. “What about—”
“If you bring up the summer before eighth grade right now, I swear I’m leaving,” he threatens. He knows me too well.
“Just think about what our bar would be like,” I say, switching topics. “We’d find a place on the beach. You could serve s**t in fancy glasses, which you’re always going on about—”
“Not everything needs to be served in a tumbler,” he mutters.
“You could put on good music, turn down the lights, and schmooze your way into the heart of any girl there with just one line.” I wiggle my brows for comedic effect. “All you’d have to say is that you’re the owner.”
That appears to give him pause. He rubs the back of his neck, but continues frowning. I’m used to that expression, though.
“I don’t know,” he finally says. “It seems like a really bad idea.”
“But…?”
“That’s it.”
“You know, I’m going to roll with it. I think you’re more intrigued than you let on.”
He just squints at me silently. I reach out and clap him on the shoulder.
“You just wait,” I promise. “It’s going to be great.”
Jameson just shakes his head. “Can I buy you a drink, at least?”
“That you can, man. That you can.”
Turning my back on the sultry evening, I head inside.
- Writer
