Something to Prove (7 page)

Before he could answer, a dull pain shot through her stomach. She clenched her midsection
and rubbed it with a flat palm as if she could will the pain away.

Colin moved closer. “What’s wrong?”

The pain passed and she straightened. “Nothing. I’m fine. Slight upset stomach.”

“Maybe you should sit back down.”

As much as she wanted to argue with him—he had no business telling her what to do—she
really wanted to sit down. She eased back on the stool. As quick as the pain arrived,
it seemed to disappear. In the back of her mind she feared the ulcers had returned,
but she brushed the thought aside. She’d been fine for years, able to live and eat
and drink normally. Last night’s alcohol was just taking its toll.

Colin’s gaze followed her every movement. She didn’t like being scrutinized by him,
so she pointed at his mess on the bar. “Go on.”

He hesitated, but continued, “This bar is in an excellent location. You’re right on
Addison.”

“So?”

He shook his head. “One quick bus trip and you’re at Wrigley Field.”

She had no idea where he was going with this.

“The Cubs? Baseball?” He sighed heavily. “I’m suggesting we make this a sports bar.
Chicago has great teams and even better fans. Instead of letting this place flounder
as some Irish pub imitation, we make it something new, like you said.”

His enthusiasm caught her off guard. She knew less about sports than she did about
bars, but he was excited. He thought he was really onto something.

“All of the research I did on bars in the area was on Irish pubs. I didn’t look into
sports bars at all.”

“In Chicago, Irish pubs are a dime a dozen. You have North-Side Irish, South-Side
Irish, and plenty of fakes in between.”

“And sports bars?”

“Also a dime a dozen.”

He’d lost it. Worse, so had she to think that bringing him on board was a good idea.

“Don’t give me that look. Sports bars are everywhere. Chicago is a sports town. What
you have here is a neighborhood bar. It’s never going to be more than that. Take a
look outside.”

She glanced through the open door. As she had on her first visit, she noticed the
residential neighborhood.

“We have to give people a reason to come here to drink instead of sitting on their
couches. We need to offer something better than what they have at home.”

He began to make more sense than she’d expected, but she held her hope in check. “How
do you suggest we do that?”

“Bring in big-screen TVs. Get quality satellite in here with all of the sports channels.
Offer bus rides and tickets to some of the Cubs games.”

“Where would I get a bus?”

He shook his head at her again. “You rent it. You buy a block of tickets and sell
them. Like a field trip. They get drunk to and from the game and don’t have to drive.
Once the place is cleaned up, people will come to check it out. Neighbors will be
nosy. They’ll want to know what we’ve done. Once we get them in, we need to entice
them to stay and come back again.”

She sipped at her coffee, now cooled. Her nerves had calmed and her stomach seemed
to settle. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of a sports bar, but she had nothing
else. Colin was right; the location restricted what she could expect. “Okay.”

With that one simple word, Colin relaxed. He’d thought for sure Elizabeth wouldn’t
agree to any of his ideas. She looked completely lost over the concept of a sports
bar. He didn’t understand why she wanted to make this thing work instead of selling
it when she had no idea what she was doing. He doubted she’d ever even stepped foot
in a bar, except for doing
research
.

“Awesome.” He scooped up his napkins and balled them up. One by one he shot them into
the trash can behind the bar. He only missed twice.

“Are you done playing now? We have a lot of work to do. I have decorators coming in
to look around and offer bids on fixing this mess. I also have vendors coming in.
Before we can know what to order, I think we need to determine our drink menu.” She
reached into her briefcase and pulled out the legal pad. “Beer will be our biggest
seller, don’t you think? But like you said, this is a neighborhood bar, so I’m thinking
we stick with mostly domestic and a few popular imports. What else?”

“Liquor. No girlie drinks.”

“Well, that ruins my plan for an upscale wine tasting.”

Colin froze and stared at her. She hadn’t moved, but her cheek twitched. He asked,
“Did you just make a joke?”

“Obviously not a very good one.”

He smiled. “It wasn’t bad. You caught me off guard. I didn’t know you could joke.”

Her gaze left her list and met his eyes. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

Even in the dim light, her hard stare shot into him. He had to remind himself that
they were on the same side. Something about her made him feel as if they were opponents.
He didn’t know much about her, but he’d like to peel away that guarded layer that
made them rivals. Like when she’d sat at his bar, tipsy on wine.

“I’ll head into the storeroom to do inventory.”

She nodded. “I’ll be in the office going through the mess there. How long do you think
you’ll need? The vendors and decorators will be here around four.”

He looked at the clock and realized that it was broken, so he shrugged. “That should
be fine.”

He headed to the back, looking for a door to the basement like they had at O’Leary’s.
He found it and opened it to a stench worse than death.

“The inventory is in the storeroom. Next door down,” Elizabeth said from behind him.

“What the fuck is that smell?” He pulled his shirt collar up over his nose to block
the odor.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been down there. Smells like a job for you.”

He slammed the door. “You’re not paying me enough to dispose of corpses. Talk to your
decorators.”

“Before I can hire someone to fix it, I need to know what the problem is.”

He turned to look at her. She stood with her arms crossed, waiting for an argument.
“I’ll check it out after I finish with the inventory.”

She stared at him like she couldn’t believe he’d agreed. Well, neither could he. He
opened the next door and flipped a switch for lights. The storeroom was small, about
the size of the supply closet at O’Leary’s. Two metal shelving units held beer; a
third held hard liquor. On the opposite wall sat an assortment of things that didn’t
look well used: paper towel rolls, a case of toilet paper, various bottles of cleaners.
The wall to his right had a long, beat-up counter running the length of the space.
On it was a tabletop pizza oven, a microwave, and a coffeemaker.

It dawned on him that the place had no kitchen. It was almost unheard of for a bar
not to have a kitchen. They should see if they could get something going here. Check
the plumbing lines and gas lines to see if they could turn this into a kitchen and
move the inventory to the basement.

He was getting ahead of himself. Elizabeth wanted to make changes to turn a profit.
Neither of them was in this for the long haul. Building a kitchen would be too much.
But if he could sell her on his ideas, the bar would be what he wanted when he bought
it. Using her budget figures, he had an idea of what she’d be looking for when she
was ready to sell. With the twenty-five percent promised in their contract, he could
do this.

His grin spread as excitement rose. He’d be able to get his own bar and it wouldn’t
cost him anywhere near the money or sweat equity because Elizabeth would bear the
brunt of making the changes. All he had to do was bide his time and make sure the
bar was profitable enough for her to want to sell.

Grabbing a clipboard that Elizabeth had left on the counter, he began counting cases
of beer and bottles of alcohol. Tucked away in the corner between shelving units,
he found a box of stale pretzels. He dragged it out the back door and tossed it in
the Dumpster.

An identical metal door stood eight feet to the left of him. It was for the adjoining
business. Faded lettering on the door couldn’t be read. He scanned his memory for
what used to be there and came up empty. He walked around the other side of the building.
This side had a few more windows than The Irish had, but they were all soaped and
boarded up. The other half of the building was bigger than the bar and it had a parking
lot attached.

He wondered if Elizabeth had looked into who owned it. Did her father own the entire
building and The Irish just happened to come with it?

There were a lot of questions crowding his brain. He shouldn’t care. He had a deal.
Make a profit and get her out. He circled back to the door he’d exited, leaving it
open behind him for a cross breeze.

From the back hall, he heard Elizabeth’s voice. They weren’t expecting anyone for
a few hours yet. A voice rose, but it wasn’t hers. Colin headed into the bar to see
what was going on.

Elizabeth stood near the door. The sunlight was blocked by the behemoth of a man she
was talking to.

“We’re closed. Not just now, but indefinitely.”

“Mitch always lets me come in early.” He stepped toward Elizabeth, and Colin moved
in.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “Take
another step into my bar and I’ll call the police.”

Not a smart move. Colin could see the guy was already half in the bag. Calling the
cops would just piss him off.

“Fuck you.” He looked over Elizabeth’s head and called, “Mitch. Get this bitch out
of my way before I move her.”

“Mitch is gone. Fired. He won’t be back.”

Colin stood beside Elizabeth. “Excuse me, I’m Colin, Mitch’s replacement. Can I help
with something?”

Elizabeth glared at him and pressed her lips together tightly.

“I just want a drink. And she”—he stuck his thumb at Elizabeth—“won’t let me in.”

“We’re not open for business right now. She’s a stickler for the rules. You know how
some people are.” The man cracked a smile, and Colin knew he had him. “I don’t think
one small drink could hurt. You are alone, right?”

The man furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t want to tell you to come in for a drink and have you bring fifty of your
closest friends.”

“Just me.”

“Come on in, then. But only one and then you have to leave. We’re trying to fix the
place up.”

The hulk of a man brushed past Elizabeth, and she stormed off into the back. “Feisty
one, ain’t she?”

Colin didn’t respond. He knew he was already going to pay for letting this guy have
a drink. The man plopped onto a stool while Colin moved around the bar. “What’s your
poison?”

“Shot of whiskey and a beer.”

Colin quickly poured both. “I’ll be right back.”

The man grunted and swallowed the shot. Colin went to the office.

As soon as she saw him, Elizabeth opened her mouth. “You have—”

He cut her off. “You can yell at me later. Call the non-emergency line for the police
and let them know we have a guy who plans to leave here and drive drunk. He won’t
get far.”

He left the room with her mouth still hanging open. Back at the bar, the man was nearly
finished with the beer. “You’re gonna need a new place to hang out for a while. We
really are closed for remodeling.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. The boss back there wants to turn this place around.”

The man stood and looked across the room. “What’s wrong with it?”

Colin shrugged. This was one conversation he didn’t need to have.

The man slapped a five on the bar. “Keep the change. Thanks for the drink.”

He stumbled out the door. Colin moved to the corner of the bar to see what car the
man was in. He threw his leg over a motorcycle. As the drunk fished for his keys,
a squad car came down the street. Colin returned his attention to the rows of alcohol
behind the bar.

As soon as he’d poured the shot, he knew the whiskey had been watered. He started
with that bottle and went to the sink. The liquid splashed and glugged down the drain.
He turned to the next bottle and poured a bit into a semi-clean glass. The cheap tequila
had been watered too.

He worked his way down the line, taking a taste and pouring everything out. If the
manager was watering drinks, the bar should have been showing more of a profit. It
was a good thing Elizabeth had fired Mitch. Her manager had probably been lining his
own pockets. He sipped from the next bottle.