Page 59 of The Last Second Chance
Lila, one of the dining room servers, ducked her head under the heat lamps. “Jax, we need an expo to get us back on track,” she said, waving at the window overflowing with food. “Then I need some discounts for some disgruntleds.”
“Anyone walk out yet?”
Staff or customers?” she asked, loading up a tray of meatloaf and burgers.
“Both. Either,” Jax said morosely.
“Still got everyone, but some complimentary desserts and table touching will go a long way.”
“The cream ale ready yet?” Julio asked.
“Kegged and ready to go. We’re releasing it next weekend.”
“You could do a free preview tonight. Send out samplers to the tables,” he suggested.
“You’re a genius, Julio.”
“That’s what they tell me,” the cook said, turning back to the grill, his dark hair tied back in a stumpy ponytail.
“I’ll hook up the cream and tell Joey,” Lila volunteered. “And if you’re in the mood to give things away, a round of drinks and a big, fat thank you might go far with the staff tonight.”
“Consider it done,” Jax said.
Lila winked at Julio and danced out of the kitchen, tray laden with steaming hot entrees.
Jax worked furiously, traying up food, hopping on the line to help Julio and Nan on the grill and fryers. He became an expert in building side salads and dropping fries. He kept an ear out for sounds of unrest from the bar, but the chaos in the kitchen kept his full attention.
He was covered in sweat and nursing a deep fryer burn when Joey poked her head around the corner.
“Need a shit load of clean glasses and a new keg of lager. And Al said if you don’t get a draft to her by Sunday, she’s going to fly out here and slap you upside the head,” she announced before disappearing again.
Jax blinked. Joey didn’t look panicked or pissed off and she’d had time to answer his phone, which meant things must have quieted down out front.
He hurried down the back stairs to the key room. The cooler felt like heaven to his overheated body. His comfortable Henley had seemed like the logical choice on a ball-freezing January night. But between the heat lamps, the grill, and the ten miles he must have sprinted so far tonight he was wishing for gym shorts and a t-shirt.
Jax unhooked the kicked keg and tapped a fresh one. He reminded himself to take a look at the sales numbers tonight. After the chaos, of course.
What had he been thinking opening a brewery?he wondered. Those visions of sampling beers and arguing with his brothers at the bar seemed like a naïve fantasy compared to the reality of actually running a bar and restaurant.
Jax skirted the expo line and grabbed a tray of clean glasses before swinging back around to the front of the house. Maybe if things had slowed down enough out front he could talk Joey into grabbing a bite with him. He wanted to know how things were going at the stables with the new additions and partnership.
It was another naïve fantasy. Jax bobbled the tray when he was greeted with the mob scene. Joey had ditched her sexy little sweater and had stripped down to a slinky black tank. She’d pulled those dark brown waves back into a high ponytail. Pulling pints and laughing, she looked like every man’s fantasy.
It was three-deep at the bar. Jax set the tray down hard enough to have the glasses tremble, but no one noticed him.
“Okay, on three,” Joey yelled over the noise.
The bar counted down with her as she ticked off the numbers on her fingers overhead.
“Three, two, one—”
Everyone made grabs for the shallow bowls Joey had spaced out at intervals on the bar.
Jax peeked in the bowl closest to him. Maraschino cherries.
“Cherry stem tying contest,” Wilson Abramovich announced at his elbow. Wilson, Blue Moon’s jeweler and loyal Beautification Committee member, was grinning at his wife, Penny, as she contorted her face in a valiant effort to win.
“Don’t get too creative there, Phil,” Joey yelled to one-half of the newlywed couple as she poured two drafts simultaneously. “I don’t wanna have to give you the Heimlich.” The bar roared with laughter.
