Actually, I made seven lists.
Lists of equipment we needed, of suppliers tocontact, of permits to file.
Lists of furniture to buy, of potential staff positions, of things I didn’t know yet but needed to figure out.
Lists of lists I needed to make.
Priya came home from her shift around midnight and found me surrounded by legal pads while pecking at my laptop.
“You’re doing a spreadsheet, aren’t you?” she said from the kitchen as ice clanked out of the fridge door.
“Yes, I’m converting my lists into an Excel spreadsheet as the gods intended. Don’t interfere with divinity in action.”
Her laugh was tired but still all Priya, warm and sincere. “You know you’re unemployed, right? You’re allowed to relax.”
“I’ll relax when we open.”
“That’s not how mental health works.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have that look,” she said as she dropped onto the couch and took a sip of her iced tea. “The one you get when you’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling. I’m planning.” I held up one of the legal pads. “There’s a difference.”
She gave me the same look my mom used to give me when I had chocolate smeared across my face butinsisted I hadn’t been snacking. “Please remember to eat . . . and sleep.” She sniffed dramatically, then wrinkled her nose. “And occasionally bathe.”
“Yes, mom.”
She stood, downed the last of her tea, and vanished down the hall. As her door clicked shut, I lifted an arm and sniffed.
“Oh, God. She’s right about the bathing,” I muttered, then I went back to my lists.
Tuesday morning, I posted ads on every job site I could find.
WANTED: Cook for new gay sports bar in Ybor. Experience required. Creativity encouraged. Must be able to handle high volume and work well under pressure. Competitive pay. Contact Finn at . . .
WANTED: Barback for new gay sports bar in Ybor. No experience necessary but preferred. Hard worker, fast learner, team player. Training provided. Contact Finn at . . .
I stared at the ads for a long moment before hitting “post.”
This was real. We were hiring people. We were building a team.
A thousand butterflies chose that moment to dance a jig across my skin, and I couldn’t suppress a giggle. Then another. Before I knew it, I was on my back on our dingy carpet, cackling like a madman.
Holy shit, we wereactuallydoing this.
My phone rang.
“I posted the ads,” I said before Mark could speak.
His reply held the intensity of a weightlifter struggling beneath a dead lift. “I’ve been refreshing the page waiting for them to go live. They look good.”
“You’ve been refreshing a job posting site?”
“I’m invested. And bored. The dogs can only entertain me for so long.” I heard barking in the background. “Okay, that’s a lie. The dogs are great, but I’m still bored. What’s next?”
“Equipment shopping. I made a list of restaurant supply places—”
