“Has she always been this sassy?” Walker asks Mallory, who just grins.
And that’s when it hits me.
Hard.
Like a two-by-four to the chest.
“You guys own Burgers and Brew.” It’s not a question.
Holy shit, how did I not realize this?
Everyone in this part of Ohio knows about Burgers and Brew. Hell, I’ve been there, traveling the hour distance just to have one of their famous burgers. It’s probably the biggest, most well-known non-chain restaurant in the area, and I can’t believe these are the owners.
Which means the bar Lizzie grew up in was that one.
“I take it she didn’t tell you that?” Walker asks, clearly witnessing my confusion and realization.
“Uh, no. She said she grew up in a bar and restaurant, but never said which one.”
Walker snorts and shakes his head. “She’s worked there since she was old enough to legally be on the payroll, but her love for the place goes way back. She practically cut her teeth there.”
“Wow,” I reply, not really sure what else to say. Knowing that she was always referring to Burgers and Brew and never so much as mentioned the name of it is actually pretty telling. She learnedfrom the best, but didn’t use their name or notoriety to get ahead or what she wanted.
My admiration of her just increased tremendously.
“Finished!”
All eyes turn toward the tattooed woman with black-and-pink hair. Lizzie jumps up and practically runs over to where she’s been working and looks down. “Oh my gosh,” Lizzie states, her hands moving to her mouth as her green eyes fill with tears. “I love it so much.”
Everyone else slowly makes their way toward the sign, all anxious to see the finished product. I watch as they ooh and ahh over it, giving the woman who painted it kudos for a great piece of art.
“It’s positively amazing, Aunt BJ,” Lizzie says, beaming at the woman with a wide smile and love in her eyes.
“You made it easy. It’s a great name for a bar,” she informs her niece, giving her a warm hug.
Walking around the bar and toward where everyone is standing, staring down at the sign, I can’t help but ask, “And what name is that?”
Lizzie just smiles, her excitement rolling off her in huge waves. “The Tipsy Lizard.”
Lizzie’s family spends pretty much the entire day at the bar or in the apartment upstairs. I’ve always known about the living quarters, having gone up there once or twice to get some things Chuck stored up there, but as far back as I can remember, it’s been empty. I learned quickly that the new owner of this place has been staying up there since she was given the key, but it’s in desperate need of some TLC. Once everyone got the bar areacleaned up a bit, the small changes they were making complete, and the new sign hung above the door outside, they all turned their attention above us, where they’ve been the last few hours.
“This place already looks better.”
I turn my attention to Larry, one of the regulars, and nod. “It does.”
“And I don’t hate the name,” Burt adds, studying the freshly painted logo on the mirror behind the bar. Once BJ finished the sign, she turned her attention to the mirror and duplicated the business name and logo from the sign. It still makes me smile. The lizard holds a beer in each hand, looking like he’s had a few too many. It’s a testament to BJ’s talent as an artist, to be able to bring the character to life and actually make him look a little tipsy. I learned BJ’s an accomplished tattoo artist, married to Isaac—or Numbers as everyone calls him—and is Jameson’s sister.
I grunt in response, because to be honest, I don’t either. I thought I’d disapprove of anything she came up with, but that’s not the case. And knowing the connection beneath the lizard nickname and her pseudo-uncles is kinda sweet. It’s like an ode to her extended family yet still keeping true to herself.
Don’t tell her, but it’s all sort of growing on me.
“And it’s brighter in here, right?” Gus asks, glancing around the room. “Don’t tell me that’s just from cleaning.”
I snort. “I think they took two inches of smoke and dirt off the windows,” I tell them, wiping off the counter near where they sit.
“Maybe that’s it,” Tom replies with a hearty laugh.
“She said she’s gonna paint too but promised to take care of saving what she can from what’s on the walls and ceiling. My very first dollar bill tip to Chuck is hanging right there,” Jarrod announces, pointing to the spot above the bar where he signed and stapled his contribution to the then-new owner.
