20. Deacon #2
“So,” I said as I took my seat at the head of the table, “there are three individuals that still work at the bar that are trying to figure out what we’re really doing there. Why we really bought the bar.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Rat asked.
“But,” I said as I pinned him with a look, “one of them doesn’t know how to control her mouth.”
Dallas cleared his throat. “She’s essentially told us that they’re not going to stop until they figure out what’s going on, so I had a talk with her tonight. I told her that we’re flipping the bar. You know, making it better and shit like that.”
“That’s great and all,” Mace said, “but doesn’t that eventually mean we’ll have to sell it. What happens when we don’t?”
I clicked my tongue. “If we play our cards right, and you know we always do, it won’t get that far.
We stay with the ‘flipping business’ front that Dallas laid out tonight to save face with the staff still left at the bar.
That way, it gets them off our back long enough to redo the bar, establish trust with the community again, and then it’s smooth sailing from there. ”
Baitfish shook his head, though. “That doesn’t sound like a surefire thing. That sounds like a time sink.”
“When can we expect to start cooling down the money?” Rat asked.
“When we finally get people coming back into the bar,” I said.
“I warned you about this,” Gauge said as he piped up from the corner.
“Warned you about what?” Plug asked.
“Tell them,” Gauge said.
Mace ground his teeth together. “Tell us what?”
I drew in a deep breath through my nose. “The reason why there’s so much kickback is because we underestimated the influence of the previous owner of the bar. We thought patrons were coming in because the drinks were great and the food is just as good.”
“So, no one’s trying to sabotage the bar? Is that what’s happening?” Plug asked. “Because I could’ve sworn you said?—”
I slammed my fist against the table. “I know what I said!”
The room fell silent as I swallowed my heart back down into my chest.
“Is this going the way that we planned? No. Has anything we’ve done ever gone according to plan? No.”
“We have a lot of money sunken into this,” Baitfish said.
“And we don’t?” Dallas asked.
“How long did it take for us to start using the mechanic shop the way we needed?” I asked.
Gauge’s shadowed outline shrugged. “Almost a year?”
I nodded. “And how long did it take Lone Star? Anyone remember?”
Mace sighed. “Around that amount of time, too.”
I licked my lips. “A sure thing doesn’t mean an immediate thing. That ringing any bells?”
Rat groaned. “Yes, yes. We all remember the conversation.”
“So, if you remember that conversation, then why are we having this one?” I asked.
“Because you said it was a sure fucking thing, that’s why,” Plug said curtly.
I matched his tone of voice. “And how did we define the timeframe for this sure thing?”
The room seemed to stop, as if frozen in time. But, I was going to make him say it.
“Plug?” I asked.
He muttered something beneath his breath, but I didn’t catch it.
“Sorry, what was that?” I asked as I leaned forward a bit.
“Five months,” he said flatly.
“And how long have we been owners of the bar?” I asked.
Plug’s face fell. “We get it.”
“Say it just for good measure,” I glowered.
He sighed as his head tilted to the side. “Less than one day.”
“Is less than one day the same as five months?”
“Can you stop with the idiotic questions now?”
I leapt onto my feet and slammed my fists into the table. “Then stop asking idiotic questions!”
My voice echoed off the corners of the room as the guys slid down into their seats.
Finally, I had regained some semblance of control. “We tossed around the idea tonight of putting in a dance floor.”
Everyone looked around the room at each other, but Rat was the first to speak. “Not many places to do that around here.”
“There’s nowhere, actually. I looked into it,” I said as I eased myself back down into my chair. “I think that would give us a leg-up, especially if we started opening for lunch and catering to the younger crowd around here.”
“There’s a younger crowd?” Dallas asked with a snicker.
I ignored his remark. “We need something that sets the bar apart from everything else, and I think giving people a place to dance is the way to do that. The bar top is being replaced as we speak, but I do want to talk with you guys about the rest of the renovations. You know, get your opinions on things.”
Baitfish shrugged. “Fine by me. You got anything that we can look at?”
I leaned back in my chair. “What do I look like? Your mother? No, I don’t have a prim and proper set of documents with drawn-out pictures to show you. For once, you’ll have to exert energy to use that brain of yours.”
Baitfish grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well, if we’re going to have empty nights, I say we get a move on those renovations,” Mace said. “Get those contractors right onto something else after they install the bar top.”
“What do we want to do about that stage?” I asked.
“If we’re gonna do dancing,” Plug said as he cleared his throat, “then why don’t we just rip it out and create more space? We’ve got that sound system. Might as well put it to good use.”
Gauge scoffed. “Not like there’s any talent around here to use that stage.”
“We could tackle that first without shutting down much of the seating area. Plus, the bar could stay open through the stage demolition if we curtained it off right,” I said.
Dallas smiled. “I say that’s the next thing we tackle, then.”
Gauge raised his hand. “Can I help with destroying it?”
That made me chuckle. “All in favor of taking out the stage to make room for a bigger dance floor, raise your hands.”
And when all of the guys shot their hands into the air, I stood.
“With all of the banging around we’re about to start doing to that bar, it’ll get people curious.
They’ll dip their heads in just to see what’s going on.
You know how nosey this town is. So, we use that to our advantage.
We tackle big projects first. Things that are easy for them to see whenever they come in.
And one by one, we get them asking questions.
Get them talking. And I know that if we do that—if we can really create a curious buzz around this place—that they’ll be begging for a grand reopening. ”
“And that’s when we throw a party,” Dallas said.
I pointed at him. “Bingo. If we can get our grand reopening to be that good after five months? This’ll be cake.”
The guys all nodded their heads and stood with smiles on their faces.
It had been one of the more tense church meetings we’d ever held, but we were finally all back on the same page.
Grinning, and plotting, and salivating over the money we’d have in our pockets once we could flush the bar with it.
I knew that disaster hadn’t been completely averted, though.
We also had to find a way to permanently disarm our personal firecracker, Char.
A feat that I hoped Dallas could accomplish.
Otherwise, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she’d ruin everything. Or so I kept telling myself.
“Anyone else have any issues they wish to bring to the table?” I asked as I raised my hand in the air.
Everyone shook their heads, and I was glad for it. Because the sounds of Char’s moans and groans kept tickling the back of my mind. The sounds of her gasps and grunts twitched my dick.
Fucking hell, part of me wished it had been my cock pulling those noises from her.
“Church dismissed,” I said as I waved my hand through the air.
Good thing, too. Because I needed a cold fucking shower.
If I had any hope of getting even a modicum of sleep, I had to drown her sounds out of my memory.