Page 11 of Kiss and Tell
That piqued my interest.
“That’s really cool,” I said. “Are you a singer?”
“Guitarist.”
“So you played rock music? Were you in a band?”
“Yeah. A few.” His hand resting on the table clenched and released.
“Would I have heard of any of them?” I asked.
“No.” Connor drew his hand to his side. “Anyway. Like I said. We’ve got a big budget.”
“Got it.” I wondered at his curt answers. “I’ll keep that in mind as I work out a new design.”
He finally met my eyes.
“How do we go about doing things?” he asked. “Like I said before, I’m new to this bar-owning, too.”
“First I’ll need to know what your vision is for the space,” I said. “Jessie didn’t give me any details. Only that you’re looking for a change.”
“I am.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the pained look on his face now replaced by eagerness. “I want something totally fresh.”
“But what does that mean to you?” I was used to teasing out this kind of information from my clients. “Do you want a sports bar? A wine bar?”
His lips twisted, looking thoughtful, but not keen. I continued.
“Do you want some kind of lounge? A fancy cocktail place? Or one of those high-end gastro-pubs?”
He still didn’t look enthused. I changed tracks, thinking back to what he’d mentioned before.
“A cute cafe?” I asked. “Some hipster coffee shop?”
“It’s not so much that I know what I want,” he said, cutting in before I could go on. “But I know what I don’t want.”
I pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out of my bag, ready to take notes.
“I want some place cool,” he started. “But I don’t want it to feel pretentious.”
“Got it.”
“It should be a fun place to hang with friends and get a beer, but not a sports bar.”
“Okay.”
“I want to serve quality drinks, but none of that expensive over-the-top cocktail bar stuff. No drinks encased in smoky glass domes or whatever.”
“Sure.”
“It has to be unique and one of a kind, but without gimmicks. Nothing like those board game or vintage arcade bars.”
“Okay…”
“I want the vibe to be friendly, where people can chat and make new friends while waiting at the bar, not just sitting in their corner and drinking silently. But I don’t want it turning into one of those pick up bars where women get hit on constantly.”
I stared at him.
“So you want the impossible?” I asked. “I can see now why you’ve had so much trouble with other interior designers.”
