Page 57 of The Last Second Chance
“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” she said, her wide green eyes searching his face.
“A couple of things. Tell me about Emma.”
“Emma? Why? You aren’t giving up on Joey, are you?” Gia gasped.
“Not in this lifetime.” Jax gave a little half smile. “How happy is your sister in L.A.?”
Gia frowned, considering. “You know, I wouldn’t say happy. I’d say comfortable.”
“Think she’d be interested in making a change?”
“Like what—Oh my God! The brewery!” Gia grabbed his arms in a surprisingly strong grip for someone so petite. “Have Emma move here and manage it! You’re a freaking genius!”
Jax laughed. “It would give me a lot more time to chase Joey if I wasn’t babysitting that place all the time. She’d help us grow it, guide us into catering and weddings. Plus, you’d have a sister and Franklin would have another daughter in town.”
“I could make out with your face right now,” Gia announced.
Jax held up his hands and laughed. “Whoa, there. There’s a code. No making out with another brother’s woman.”
He saw a flicker in her eyes. “What? Are you disappointed you can’t make out with my face?”
The flicker was gone as quickly as it had come. “That must be it,” she said lightly before scooping an obscene amount of jelly on the bread.
“Anyway, keep it quiet about your sister. I’d like to talk to her before I get Carter and Beckett excited about the possibility.”
“My lips are sealed,” Gia said, sliding half a sandwich toward him. “But, if you can make this happen my dad and I will be really, really grateful.”
“Grateful enough to make me a lasagna?”
“Every month for the rest of your life.”
14
Jax filleda pint glass of the thick, black stout with one hand while searching frantically for a second clean glass with his other.
The bar of the brewery was hopping and the tables were already filling up with the dinner crowd. He would have been pleased had it not been for the fact that his bartender called in sick and one of the cooks was a no-show. And then, due to an issue with the supply company, they’d had to eighty-six the wings and pulled pork.
Everyone on staff was pulling double duty.
Jax was manning the bar and trying to help at the host stand. The servers were taking turns expoing food between waiting tables. He’d left a panicked voicemail for his mother, but drew the line at calling either of his brothers. They’d each taken a turn this week playing manager on duty. Plus, he didn’t want to hear their taunts about ‘poor baby Hollywood’ who can’t handle the dinner shift.
If the orderly Beckett were here, he’d try to organize the chaos instead of moving with it. Diners would wait for an hour for their appetizers. And Carter would do his best until he had enough and then he’d sneak out for some peace and quiet.
Nope. Tonight it was up to him. Keeping the staff on task, keeping the customers happy. Oh, yeah, and this was the night he was supposed to finish up the draft of the script that had been hanging in limbo for eight months. Now that the studio had locked in a new hotshot director, it was suddenly imperative that he finish the script.
Two more customers sat down at the bar and Jax wanted to just pour himself a shot and join them. Instead, he tossed them menus and grabbed the phone that had been ringing incessantly for the last hour.
“Yeah? What? I mean, John Pierce Brews,” Jax answered.
“Jax? You sound like you’re running a marathon,” his mother chirped.
“Mom, I will go to every fucking Movie Club meeting from now on if you can get in here and help. I’m drowning.”
“Be there in fifteen.” Phoebe hung up without another word and Jax sent up a prayer of thanks for family. She might take special enjoyment in torturing him, but when backs were to the wall, Phoebe Pierce would ride into battle for her boys.
Sunny, a waitress barely old enough to buy her own beer, hustled around the corner and flung a burger and fries at him.
“Order up for Pete.”
