Page 34 of Falling for the Bad Boy
Macy turned in a full circle, her gaze bouncing from the walls to the floor to the countertop.
“So, what do you think?” I asked. “Give it to me straight.” As if Macy would ever be capable of doing anything but telling it like it was. She might turn on the charm for her clients, but she’d never been anything but brutally honest where I was concerned.
“It’s got major potential.” Macy nodded, making her blonde waves bob up and down. “Yeah, this could be fantastic.”
I let out a relieved sigh. Macy’s opinion mattered. Besides my grandmother, who’d been one hundred percent on board with the idea when I first brought it up all those years ago, Macy was the only other person whose support counted.
“What are you going to put up over there?” Macy gestured to a spot on the exposed brick wall where someone must have tried patching a crack at one point.
“I was thinking of hanging a painted canvas or something big enough to cover it up.”
Nodding, Macy stepped farther into the space. “And what’s upstairs?”
“Studio space. Maybe even a room I can turn into an apartment for the time being.”
“You’re going to move in here?” Nose crinkling, Macy turned toward me. “Is it safe?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t had any trouble yet. Besides, Oliver lives in the apartment over the bar.”
“Ah, the bartender I’m not allowed to ask about.”
Heat prickled over my cheeks. I ignored the comment and turned to the counter. “What do you think of the antique bar? I got it from a friend.”
Macy stalked across the room on her heels to run a hand over the wood. “Nice. I’m picturing a kind of industrial, eclectic vibe. You’ve got the warmth of the exposed brick, and the wooden beams. Maybe add a little color in that canvas you’re talking about, and you should be in good shape. What are you calling it?”
“Calling what?”
“Your business. Don’t you have a name picked out already?”
“Oh. No, not yet.”
“Seriously, Trin, you’ve got to get your act together if you’re going to make September first. You need a sign, you’ve got to get your social media accounts set up…”
I shook my head. “Stop. One thing at a time. It’s all going to come together.”
“Not without a plan, hon. I’m going to run home and grab my white board for you.”
“No, not the white board.” I’d seen how Macy organized her life down to the millisecond with her stash of dry erase markers and the giant whiteboard she hung on her office wall. Every color corresponded to a type of task, and Macy could tell exactly where each item stood based on the symbols she drew next to the list.
“If you’re not going to use the whiteboard, you’ve got to do something to get yourself organized.”
I nodded. Macy was right. Again. “Okay. I’ll come up with something. Just promise me you won’t bring the whiteboard into my space. It’ll mess up my juju.”
Macy rolled her eyes. “Fine. For now. But if you don’t get something going in the next few days, I’m bringing the whiteboard and the markers, and I’m going to start a color-coded spreadsheet.”
“Out.” I put my hands on Macy’s shoulders and spun her toward the door. “You can’t say that word in here, it’ll give me hives.”
Laughing, Macy didn’t resist as I nudged her toward the door. “Spreadsheet, spreadsheet, spreadsheet. You’re going to have to embrace it if you want to keep track of inventory and stuff.”
“I need to get to work. Don’t worry about me if I don’t come home tonight. I’ll probably work late on the space. I have some contractors coming tomorrow to take care of a few things and need to make sure I’m ready.”
“You’ll let me know if you need help?” Macy turned around and pulled me into a hug.
“Don’t you have that fundraiser with Mitch tonight?”
“Yeah, but slopping paint with you would be more fun.”
I laughed. “You’d have to go out and buy something to paint in. I don’t think you own anything grubby enough.”
