“No kidding. I love my dad but picking out a wedding dress with him was off the table before I even got engaged.”
“Well thank goodness it’s almost here. Just one week and you’ll be Missus Jaxon Hart.”
Annika looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Um, no. I’ll be Ms. Annika Hart, thank you very much. I understand I’m marrying into a legacy but I refuse to ride on the coattails of my father-in-law or my husband. I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I’m at.
Just then, the groom-to-be pops up off the couch and walks by us, “You don’t have to worry about that,” he says and heads toward the front door. “No one will ever question your creditably as a trainer on that field, no matter what last name you have.”
“Damn straight,” Annika says strongly with a nod.
“Besides, if anyone gives you grief, I’ll have my daddy fire them,” Jaxon jokes making Lauren and I laugh.
Annika doesn’t find it nearly as funny. She swipes at his leg while she bitches at him. “It’s not too late to cancel your wedding, buddy.”
“You would never! You love me too much.” Jaxon grabs Annika’s hands, pulling her to her feet for a quick kiss before smacking her on the ass. They’re so damn cute together. It makes my heart squeeze with a mixture of happiness for them and a little bit of jealousy for me.
“Come on, y’all,” Jaxon instructs. “Let’s get the rest of this stuff unloaded. We need to get that U-Haul back and we all know it’s going to take Kiersten an hour to drive it five miles to the drop-off site.”
“Har, har,” I laugh humorlessly and push up off the floor. “I’m never living this down.”
He’s not wrong, though. We’re running out of time. After a quick stretch and a little more bitching, we all get back to work.
THREE
Paul
Wiping down the bar, I glance around the room for the umpteenth time. Not that there’s much more I can do. The wedding planner made sure all the decorations were put up this morning, the caterer is busy with last minute food preparations in the rarely used kitchen, and the wedding cake is being set up on the far side of the room. Even the DJ is almost completely set up. Everything is ready to go.
Still, it’s the first big event I’ve hosted since purchasing this joint and I really want it to go well. Not just because my reputation is on the line, but because it’s Jaxon and Annika’s big day.
Jaxon didn’t work for me too long, but we’ve kept in touch over the years. When he came to me and asked about renting out my place for his wedding reception, I immediately questioned his sanity. For all practical purposes, this place is still trying to figure out what it wants to be. Hell, I’m still trying to turn a profit. But Jax assured me the wedding planner would turn my small business into a reception worthy space. I finally said yes.
He was right. With a little TLC and fancy decorations, this place looks like a million bucks. It’s a mixture of classy and country. Classy provided by the twinkle lights, cloth table coverings, and perfect centerpieces. Country provided by the general motif.
Our regulars wouldn’t recognize the place if they walked in right now. Not that they’ll ever see it. A private event will bring in a hell of a lot more money than the customers who call this place home and honestly, I can use the financial breathing room. Trying to turn a fledgling business into a success isn’t as easy as it looks on television. I’m determined to succeed though. It’s just a little rough around the edges and could use some improvements, but it’s got good bones. And even more importantly, it’s mine.
Two months later, and I still can’t believe I bought a bar. It was never my dream growing up. For years I assumed I’d get a business degree and spend my adult years behind a desk of some corporate conglomerate wearing an ugly tie. In my mind, that was the definition of success. It wasn’t until I got my first job as a bar back that my goals started to evolve.
During those years, I found that I enjoy working nights. My body likes sleeping during the day, so I always feel somewhat refreshed. As a man of few words, this environment seems to suit me. Turns out listening to people while behind a bar is my strong suit and comes easily. Conversations aren’t ever long. Except for a few people, they also aren’t in-depth. Even the ones who are using their bartender as a therapist aren’t bad. If they get too intense or I don’t care to hear any more, I can walk away during the conversation because I still have a job to do. Bar patrons seem to understand that better than say, retail customers.
Eventually, I realized my business instincts would carry me further than the few business classes I took, so I dropped out of college and spent my time learning the business from the ground up, working every position, and picking the brain of every general manager I worked under.
I purposefully worked my way up from the very bottom and I’m glad I did. Personally, I think it’s part of what makes me good at my job. I understand the ins and outs. I know how difficult the various jobs can be and what can and can’t be done in particular situations. I think it makes me able to assess my employees more objectively and keeps me from getting too heavy-handed.
Eventually, the opportunity to come here presented itself and I couldn’t turn it down. I’m sure to others it seemed like a step backward but that’s not how I saw it. This small non-descript hole in the wall business was my opportunity to take years of ideas, years of knowledge and use them to make what used to be called Sante a success. That’s why Pat, the previous owner, hired me. He’d spent his life loving this place and wanted to make it profitable once again.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t willing to let go of his old school ideas to let me get it there, nor would he invest any of the money necessary to bring the place into the current century. Or hell, even the last. Within six months he’d given up and decided he was ready for retirement. That’s when he came to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Now I’m the proud owner of a bar-slash-dance hall.
The multiple personalities are part of what I’m working on fixing. The whole place is a little out there and doesn’t seem to fit one particular demographic, which I suspect is part of why clientele is lacking. Is it a honky-tonk bar? Is it a dance club? Is it a concert venue? I suppose it depends on the night. But I need to streamline it a bit. Make it more marketable and classier, yet still have the down-to-earth feel. I have lots of ideas about the direction I could go, I just haven’t found the one that “fits.”
Yet another reason I’m glad to host this wedding reception. Not only am I helping a friend and buying myself a little time to make some decisions, I also want to see the reaction of people who’ve never been here before—what they like, what they turn their nose up at, what they complain about. I plan to do a little market research while they’re here. Maybe it’ll help me finally nail down a course of action. Failure is not an option when it comes to this business.
“Desiree,” I call out to tonight’s bartender and flip the towel into the bucket beneath the bar. “We stocked up on everything?”
She flashes me the same grin she uses with our customers. “We’re good boss.”