“I’m pretty sure those are all the same,” Jackson cut in.
I kept going, “---stubborn, opinionated, acts like he knows everything.”
Audrey thought it was hilarious, of course.“You two are like peas in a pod, no wonder you don’t get along.”
I groaned.“Don’t say that.I’m nothing like him.”
“Sure.”
Jackson shrugged.“It is his bar.Maybe you should work with him.”
“I should just quit, then he’d be sorry.”
“Why don’t you?”
That stopped me in my tracks.Despite Audrey being my best friend, I’d been keeping my recent inklings to myself.The whole time I’d known her, I’d worked at The Basement.And while I knew she would be supportive, she was also the most planned and put-together person I knew.Would she understand it if I told her that I was starting to get fidgety just because I’d been in one place for too long?
That I was close to making a ridiculous, completely left-field decision with no planning and no direction because of a feeling?
When I was quiet for an uncharacteristic amount of time, Audrey asked, “If you did quit, what would you do?Go work somewhere else?”
“Ever thought of opening your own place?”Jackson asked.
“God, no.I mean, yes, I’ve thought about it, and it’s the last thing I want to do.I’d rather be behind the bar than stuffed in that office all day and night.Paperwork is my nightmare.”
“There’s lots of other things you could do.Start a Youtube channel, write a recipe book …” Audrey suggested.
“I don’t know ...The book’s not a bad idea.But the YouTube thing … Can you imagine me in front of a camera?”
They shared a look.“I can, actually,” Jackson said.“Might need to tone down the swearing, though.”
“Oh, am I offending your virgin ears, pretty boy?”
“What did you do before you worked at The Basement?”he asked, ignoring my comment.
I looked between them.Fuck it.“Worked around.I actually hopped from bar to bar for a while, doing a year or so at each.I actually worked for an event planner for a while, running cocktail lessons for corporate events.Never again.”
“You really should look into the Youtube angle.You could film in your own time, work from home, make it all your own thing,” Jackson said.
A telltale tingle went down my spine.The good kind.The one that always came before an idea got its hooks in me.“And people actually make money from that?”
He nodded.“You’d be surprised.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, my nonchalant tone disguising the fact that my mind was currently somersaulting through potential ideas like an Olympic gymnast.“For now, my problem is how to deal with Sam.”
“What’s so bad about working with him?’Audrey asked.“You’ve said yourself you wanted to change the decor at the bar, and this way, you’d be involved in whatever he plans on doing.You might even be able to make some of the decisions.”
“I miss the days when you were the one freaking out, and I was the sensible one giving advice.”
“Turnabout is fair play.Besides, I owe you after what you did for us.”
“Oh, that’s right.I guess I am completely responsible for this, aren’t I?”I joked, like any of us had forgotten that I’d set them up a year ago.
“No changing the subject,” Audrey warned.“Now, the Tiff I know doesn’t a) care what anyone thinks, and b) goes down fighting.So, I think you should give this a go.We both know you want to,” she put a hand up to stop me from interrupting, “no matter how you feel about Sam.And we both know you’ll kill it.I’ve never seen you try your hand at anything and not be amazing.”
And, well … fuck.How could I not at least consider it after that rousing speech?
The Basement had done well in the last four years, but it could do better.The thing was, the only way any bar did anything in this town was by playing by the arbitrary rules of what the greying mammals in their gilded clubhouse had decided was “in.”Okay, strictly, that wasn’t the entire truth.
