Page 37 of Body Shot

“We did pretty good last night,” Cade says. “People stayed after the tasting and ordered more drinks.”

“So it’s worth doing it again?”

“I’d say definitely.”

“And it was fun.”

“Heard you got a little action.”

I roll my eyes. “Jesus. Nothing’s private around here.”

“When you screw around at work, no. Next time take her back to your place, like you usually do.”

“Yeah, not sure how that happened last night.” I rub my face. “It won’t happen again. Okay, I’m outta here. See you tomorrow.”

“You bet.”

I drive home to my condo and park in the small lot behind the complex. This isn’t much fancier than Hayden’s place, though I do have two bedrooms. With my trust fund, I could afford pretty much anything I want, including one of those million-dollar places a little farther around the bay, but I fucking hate spending that money on myself. My only splurge since leaving home twelve years ago was my car. And financing the bar.

I flick on lights as I enter the dark, empty condo. Lately, I’ve been noticing the emptiness when I walk in. I get lots of people interaction at Conquistadors, with customers, with Marco and Cade, and with the women I often meet there; home is my own personal space, so I’m not sure why lately it feels kind of solitary.

Maybe I should get a dog.

I drop my keys on the kitchen counter and open the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about getting a dog, but dammit, the bar takes up a lot of my time. We have competent staff to help run things—right now, anyway; we discovered quickly that bars and restaurants have a lot of staff turnover, and just when we found people we trusted to work hard, they left. We made a few hiring mistakes, too. But we haven’t made one with the guy we hired as our manager. Danny is rock solid, knowledgeable about all the things we aren’t, honest and with a great work ethic.

Maybe one day, once we’re a bit more established, I’ll have time to get a dog.

I wander to the big window of my living room to look out at the bay, but in the darkness there isn’t much to see except some lights dotting the curved shoreline. I think about my conversation with Cade and the dropping sales on food. My gut tightens.

I don’t need the money. But Cade and Marco do. Conquistadors is their livelihood. And weallwant this to succeed. Failure is not an option.

The three of us have that in common. From the day we met in BUD/S, we were the ones who were never going to give up. Our determination and drive was what separated us from the guys who never made it through the first week.

We’ll figure this out. Determination stiffens my spine. We’ve all overcome bigger problems than this in our lives, which keeps things in perspective. Running the bar is a challenge for us, and we’ve faced obstacles in that too, dealing with the county and the city on liquor licenses, health inspectors, finding the right people to work for us, firing the ones who weren’t right. We’ve had days where the liquor delivery didn’t happen, and while Cade was on the phone yelling at the supplier, Marco was racing to a nearby store to buy goddamn bottles of vodka off the shelf so we could make cosmos, while I desperately tried to keep customers happy.

We laughed about it the next day.

Those are small things compared to the shit we’ve seen and done.

We’ll get through this problem, too.

My cell phone chimes with a call. My first thought is Hayden. I grab the phone.

Damn. My mother.

With a sigh, I answer the call. “Hello, Mother.”

“Beckham. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“How’s your little bar doing?”

“Great. Busy. We’re having fun.”

I don’t actually hear my mother’s sigh, but I feel her disappointment. “Fun.”

---