Page 7 of My One
“Ready to open the doors?” Easton asked, coming into the upstairs office we shared.
“Yeah. Do you know who’s here already?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t want to look. I want to open the doors and watch the people rush in.”
I grinned. “Like Black Friday?”
“Like they’re so fucking thirsty they need a drink—stat.”
We chuckled. We’d invited everyone we knew. I’d met a few people when I’d moved to New York from Florida and worked at a high-end clothing store after college. When I chose to move to the outskirts of New York City, where Easton and his family were, and not back to California, I did it because that was where my family was. Of course, I had my parents in Cali, but Easton and his folks treated me like a son, and honestly, I wanted to live close to my best friend.
“Do you think my parents came?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I shrugged. “You know my father has been weird since I wasn’t scouted to play pro.”
Playing professional baseball would have been a dream, but it wasn’t my dream. It was my dad’s dream to have his son play for the Angels or whoever. My dream was to have a life not on the road. I didn’t care that I could make thousands of dollars playing a game. I wanted a family like Easton had—kids I could teach to be a good people and help them followtheirdreams. That was why, when I played baseball in college, I didn’t try to outshine anyone. I just wanted to graduate and find the one woman to spend my life with.
That had yet to happen, but I was working on it.
“I don’t know why you weren’t scouted. You’re almost as good as me,” Easton teased.
I rolled my eyes. “Baseball wasn’t for me. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss it.”
“I know.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “I miss it too, but now we need to get in the black, or we’re fucked.”
“Bars have a high markup on alcohol. As long as people are coming in through the door and ordering drinks, we should be good.”
“And that’s why you’re the business brain in this, and I’m the looks.”
I shrugged him off as we both chuckled. “I might have never modeled, but I can get any woman I want.”
“Women always hit on bartenders. We’re about to be in a sea of pussy.”
“Not if we don’t go open the fucking doors.”
“Right,” Easton agreed and turned for the stairs. “Tonight, we’re going to get our feet wet. Tomorrow night, the real fun will begin.”
We walked down the stairs and into the main bar. We’d hired a few barbacks and two other bartenders to rotate with us. Tonight we had everyone here getting the hang of things and testing a few cocktails we’d created.
“Everyone ready?” I asked as we stopped in front of the wood door.
“Hell yeah,” Easton exclaimed while the others cheered.
I swung the door open to see a crowd of people standing on the sidewalk. Cheers immediately erupted, and my mouth hurt from smiling so wide. This was it. We’d officially opened the doors to Halo, and there was no turning back.
Easton greeted everyone. “Tonight, the drinks are on the house. In exchange, we ask that you fill out a comment card at the end of the night. There are snacks and shit for you to enjoy, so please come in, listen to some music, and get tipsy.” Everyone clapped and praised us as Easton and I stepped to the side, letting everyone in.
The last two people to enter were my parents. A part of me had felt as though they wouldn’t show since my father more or less hadn’t spoken to me since I’d graduated from FSU. To be here, they'd had to fly in from California, and I’d offered for them to stay with me, but they’d declined.
“Avery,” my father greeted with a curt nod.
My mother hugged me. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, still embracing me.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I had to see it for myself—see how you threw away a good opportunity to play baseball so you could waste your life as a bartender,” Dad mocked.
