“Be patient.”
“Do you want a drink?”
“Sure.”
He moves around the bar and searches the shelves underneath it. “There isn't much back here, but there is a bottle of amaretto.”
“That seems right.”
He pours some of the amber liquid into two glasses and then walks over to the freezer and grabs out some ice.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask as he slides one of the glasses in my direction. I take a sip, and the almond-flavored liquor tickles my taste buds.
“Isn’t that the question I should be asking you?” He laughs. “I am the one on this side of the bar.”
I push myself up onto the bar, moving to sit on the edge so that my legs are dangling. He moves in between them and sips from his glass.
“Now that I’m on the right side of the bar, may I ask the question, bartender?”
“You may.”
“What’s on your mind?”
He breathes out a long breath and stretches his neck. “I’m really wondering what’s in the present.”
“Be serious. You seem really preoccupied.”
“Honestly, I think I’m in shock that it’s all mine,” he says. “And while I’m really happy and excited to have a place with my name on it, I’m scared that I’ll fuck it up somehow and lose it all.”
“You aren’t going to fuck it up.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you’re smart, and strong, and creative, and you aren’t a quitter.” I punctuate each adjective with a peck on his lips. “You are going to kill it here. Come on, tell me all of your plans.”
“You know my plans.”
“Humor me. What’s going on that wall over there?” I ask, pointing to the blank wall behind the DJ booth.
“I actually don’t have plans for that wall yet, but I was wondering if you’d paint something on it.”
I stare at him a little stunned. “You want me to paint the wall?”
“If you want to…” He smiles. “I’d absolutely love for you to paint the wall.”
“Do I have full creative reign?”
“Of course.” He laughs, shaking his head. “What are you thinking?”
“Off the top of my head? Let’s see.” I pause, tapping my chin with my finger. “Maybe a big mural of our friend group, but animals instead of people. We could all be gathered under the name of the bar.”
“Animals?”
“Yes, so like you’d be a dog, and I’d be a cheetah. And we could all be holding our typical drinks.”
He chuckles. “I like that. And what kind of animal would everyone else be?”
“Hmm,” I say. “Maybe we let them pick?”
