He laughs. “Well, that was easy.”
“And it goes against all my own advice. Don’t let on how eager you are. But the cat’s out of the bag. I’m eager. I want this. And I’ll do a great job.”
“Excellent. We’ll set up some meetings to brainstorm.”
When I hang up, Truly pokes her head out of the bedroom, tugging her wet hair back into a ponytail. “What was that all about?”
I tell her the good news, and she throws her arms around me. “I knew it. I totally knew it.”
I look down at her outfit. “Why are you wearing exercise clothes? You just showered.”
“I know. I can’t very well do Punk Rope with sticky syrup on me. Gross.” Her eyes light up. “Hey, why don’t you come to class with me? It’s near your place, so you can grab some shorts there.”
I say yes to her offer too. Obviously. It’s what we’ve always done. It’s what I hope we’ll always do.
As we head over to the exercise class, I take her hand. “So, I’ve been thinking about all this good fortune that’s fallen my way in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Well, you are a gold mine. It makes sense that everyone wants to mine you.”
“But what I’ve been noodling on is my promise to you. How I want to help support your dreams too. I had an idea for you.”
She stops, tilts her head, and looks at me curiously. “Go on.”
“It’s about your bar concept.”
50
Truly
That afternoon, I head over to Charlotte’s bar, when my phone pings with a text.
It’s from my guy.
Jason: Good luck. I can't wait to hear how it goes.
Truly: I can’t wait to tell you.
I put my phone away, loving the certainty that he’ll be here for me however this goes.
When I reach the Lucky Spot, I walk straight over to my best friend. It’s early, so it’s not crowded yet.
“Hey, you!”
“I have a brilliant idea.”
“I happen to like brilliant ideas. Do tell.”
I point to her, then to me. “You. Me. Parisian-themed bar. What do you think?”
She gasps . . . says nothing . . . just stands there, bug-eyed. Finally, she finds words. “That. Sounds. Kick-ass.”
I smile. “I know, right? Two awesome women running a brand-new place together. We’d do a great job. Don’t you think?”
“We’d do an amazing job.”
“And screw investors. I have some money saved.”
“I’ve got plenty saved too.”
“And we could take out loans for the rest. I know it’d be incredible, and you once said you wanted to do a Parisian-styled bar.”
“I absolutely do.”
“Do you think Spencer would be cool with it? I know you guys run this place together, but I kind of just want to do something with us. You and me. Girl power.”
“Gee, let me ask him. Hey, handsome,” she calls out to her husband at the other end of the bar.
“That’s me,” he replies.
“Question for you.”
He strides over, a curious glint in his green eyes. “Ask away, Snuffleupagus.”
“What would you think about Truly and me starting a place all our own? A little Parisian-themed place.”
He flashes his winning grin, one of the many things that stole her heart years ago. “I’d say Vive la France.”
“That’s it?” I ask with a laugh.
