“Motherfucker,” I hiss before downing a shot of whiskey.
I’m sitting at Down Home Pub. Not as a bartender, but as a patron.
I need to clear my mind, and what better way than at my father’s bar?
That he also co-owns with Amelia’s father, Silas.
I just can’t get rid of the thorn in my side.
Down Home is exactly what its name implies—down-home. Here, you feel like you’re sitting with friends, having a drink, not in a noisy bar with drunk assholes surrounding you. Other than the brewery, it’s one of my favorite places and where I go anytime I need to clear my head.
I assumed I’d no longer have to deal with the pain in the ass after I fired her. Sure, we see each other in passing since we live in the same town and have the same circle of friends, but putting that professional distance between us was one more step in getting rid of her.
“Hey, son,” my dad, Maliki, says, stopping in front of me from across the bar. “Everything okay?”
“Chris left his share of the brewery to Amelia.” I lean back in my stool and scrub a hand across my face.
“Ah,” is all he says for a moment, as if he’s searching for the right two cents to give to his son. “You and Chris never discussed what would happen if something were to happen to one of you?”
I shake my head. “I guess I thought I was invincible at this age.”
“I won’t lie and say I was any different.”
Everyone says I remind them of my father. Which is a damn good compliment. He’s the best man I know. And I see the similarities. We tend to be distant, quiet—a trait my mother said she wished I hadn’t inherited from him. We’re not called the nice guys, yet we’re also not referred to as cruel. We smile, but it’s rare for us to sport cheesy-ass grins.
Then, there are the physical similarities. Our six-foot frames. Our dark hair. The permanent black five o’clock shadows, but his is now peppered with gray.
He releases a heavy sigh. “You’re my son, and I love you, but I’m about to play devil’s advocate.”
My shoulders slump. “I wouldn’t expect it any other way.”
“Did you ask her to sell?” He stops, shaking his head. “You don’t even need to answer that. I know you did. And from the pissed off look on your face, I’m assuming she said no.”
“She did. Not only that, but she can’t sell for ninety days.”
“Did you ever think just as much as the brewery is all you have left of Chris, it’s also all she has left of the man she loved?” He grabs a glass and fills it with soda water before sliding it to me. “Try to work together.”
I scoff. “She and I working together will be a nightmare.”
“You don’t have to like each other to run a business together.”
“That’s easier said than done.” I shake my head. “Could you run the bar with Silas if you didn’t like him?”
“I never take my own advice.” He slaps his hand onto the bar. “I just give it out. I listen to shit your mom says and repeat it.”
I scoff again because that’s the only reply I have.
He chuckles. “Now, onto my personal advice.”
“I knew this was coming.” I grab the glass and take a long drink.
“Get over it. There’s nothing you can change.”
I hold up my glass in a cheers motion. “There’s the dad I know.”
“Hey.” He raises his hands in an I’m innocent gesture. “I tried playing your mom, but that shit is hard.”
“I’d rather hear your honesty than some positive quote bullshit.”
“And that’s why your mom says you’re just like me.” He reaches over the bar to clap me on the shoulder. “You don’t have a choice in working with her, but you do have a choice in how miserable you’ll be while working together.”
“I need to sleep this day off.”
Scratch that.
I need to pay a visit to Little Miss Amelia.