Seven Years Ago
Although I kicked everyone out of the bar when we closed a half-hour ago, I haven’t locked the doors yet. Tyler said he might pop by, so I figured it would be easier if he could let himself in. The way I’ve been spacing out tonight, I’d probably miss his knock. Case and point is the gleaming bar I’ve been cleaning for I don’t even know how long.
Things are kind of messed up right now. Unless I win the lottery, this is my last week in the bar. Uncle Chuy, the only relative on my birth father’s side of the family I stayed in touch with, passed away last month. Just an Illusion was his bar. It’s the place where my brothers got their start in the music business, where I’ve worked since I was sixteen, and where my uncle taught me everything I ever needed to know about running a bar and a business.
When Chuy died, he left me the bar and the mountain of debt that came along with it. Chuy owned the bar and the property it sits on, but with his declining health over the past few years and his ability to work less often, he took out a loan on it to keep up with his mounting medical and business expenses. I tried refinancing it to get a lower interest rate, but I was denied. I guess a twenty-one-year-old with minimal savings and no formal education isn’t a desirable candidate for a loan. If I don’t come up with half a million dollars, or a co-signer, by the end of the week, the bank is foreclosing on the bar. A co-signer is off the table, so I’ll do this myself or not at all.
Leaning back against the bar, I take it all in. Chuy’s favorite accessory sits in the far corner—his prized jukebox. The large stage is the center attraction in the main room, as well as a large dance floor. Oversized, cozy booths and sleek, leather furniture round out the décor and ambiance of the space. I’m sure as hell gonna miss this place.
The door to the bar flies open, and I whip my head around, following the sound. Tyler doesn’t ever bust in like that.
“J, what’s up, brother?”
Sawyer and Noah saunter into the bar with their bodyguard Mac as if they own it. It’s not surprising; it’s their home away from home as well—when they’re not on tour, that is.
“What are you guys doing here?” I hop over the bar, excited to see them, and Noah is the first to pull me into a hug.
“We had a few days off, so we thought we’d come home. We know this week must suck ass for you.” Noah releases me, and Sawyer pulls me into a subsequent hug.
“We also missed you.” Sawyer pulls back, nailing me with an angry glare. “You should just come on tour with us, then we wouldn’t have to miss you so damn much.”
The idea of touring with them has always been tempting, but my life is meant to be spent behind a bar, not on a tour bus. Or so I thought …
“Well, maybe now I’ll come visit until I figure out what to do with my life.” I turn my attention to Mac. “How are you doing, Mac? Keeping these guys in line? I’m not sure they pay you enough to put up with their shit.”
A deep rumbling laugh flows from him as he pats my shoulder. “I’d be doing better if you’d pour us a few beers.”
“Sure thing.”
As I take my place behind the bar and get their beers ready, they all take a seat in their usual spots at the bar. I don’t need to see his face to feel Mac’s gaze, and if Tyler wasn’t coming by tonight, I might consider flirting with him.
“Stop eye fucking my brother, Mac,” Sawyer grumbles, but we all know he’s messing around.
My brothers have never cared about my bisexuality. In fact, Sawyer has become a pretty good wingman over the years. Noah is more of the romantic, one-woman, long-term, monogamous relationship kind of guy, which makes him a horrible wingman but an incredible relationship role model. If I ever decide I want one, that is.
“If I was eye fucking him, you’d know it. I’m on the clock and simply appreciating the view,” Mac counters perfectly. So perfect, in fact, I turn my attention to him and take in all of his perfection: dark skin, light eyes, shaved head, and muscles for days. He’s packing more than just the heat in his holster too. I’ve had a thing for Mac since day one, but there’s no way I can be with the man who protects my brothers on a daily basis. They need to be his constant focus. I won’t cross that line, no matter how tempting it might be.
“Jordan …” Sawyer calls my name, and I flash Mac a smile.
“Yes, Sawyer?”
“We didn’t come here so you can flirt. We have something to talk to you about.”
The tone of his voice catches me off guard. It’s the one he uses when he’s about to piss me off. I cross my arms over my chest in defensive mode and lean against the back of the bar. “What happened?”
Noah and Sawyer exchange cautious glances, and Noah speaks up, “We did a thing.”
“We did it for you,” Sawyer kicks in, and I know it’s bad now. They’re fraternal twins, and when they start finishing each other’s sentences, it’s usually when they’re either nervous or excited—or both.
I lean forward with both of my hands gripping the edge of the bar. “What kind of thing did you do?”
“We bought the bar for you,” Noah says rapidly.
“As a gift, for our brother,” Sawyer adds.
“You what?!”
They flinch at my explosive outburst. Sadness fills Noah’s features, but Sawyer’s expression is glacial as he stands, mimicking my stance so we’re now face to face.
“We bought you your bar. Instead of yelling, maybe you should think about saying thanks.”
Sawyer doesn’t scare me, even though most people would be intimidated by him.
“What part of ‘I don’t want your help,’ don’t you understand? This is my problem, and I’m going to fix it or …”
Noah intervenes, pushing Sawyer back in the process. “Or what, J? Abandon Chuy’s legacy? He wanted you to have this. If we had known how much he was struggling, we would’ve paid his bills and he never would have gotten buried in debt like this and the bar would be yours anyway. It’s the same outcome, just a different route to get there.”
“I’m not taking your handout. I’m not a charity case!” My blood pressure is rising, the whooshing of my heartbeat in my ears grows louder with each beat. Sawyer opens his mouth to speak, but Noah silences him with an upheld finger while meeting my gaze head-on.
“We’re family, J, and family is never charity. Money comes and goes, but family is for life. We want to do this for you. It’s a gift, not a handout. However, if you won’t let us buy it for you would you, let Tony’s dad draw up a contract for a loan?”
One of Noah’s best friends, Tony, is in law school. His dad is also an attorney, so it makes sense they’d go to him for something like this.
“A loan?” The words don’t taste as bitter on my tongue as the idea of a gift, but they don’t sit right either.
“Yes, a loan,” Sawyer mocks sarcastically. “The bar is ours no matter what. So you can take it for the gift it was intended to be, let the bar sit empty and collect dust, or make payments on it and be happy.”
I begin pacing behind the bar. Once again, my brothers have swooped in to save the day. It’s so irritating, even if it is the answer to all my problems.
“Just because the two of you are famous rock stars now with more money than sense doesn’t mean you can just drop half a million dollars at my feet. This bar may never turn that kind of profit. I might never make that much money in my life. Then what? I’m beholden to the two of you forever?”
Sawyer’s smirk irritates the hell out of me. He’s enjoying this far too much.
“Just the thought of someone being beholden to me makes me want to go buy a pair of shoes for them to spit shine for me … daily.”
“That’s not funny, Sawyer,” Noah replies softly before turning to me with the sincerest of expressions. “Jordan, please, this place means as much to us as it does to you. We can be silent partners if that makes you feel better. Consider the offer. We just didn’t know what else to do. If you had the money and the situation were reversed, I know you would do the same for us.”
Without hesitation.
With a resigned sigh, I nod my acquiescence. “A loan, with interest. Whatever the market rate is right now, just like I would have received from the bank. Thirty-year term?”
They exchange knowing smiles and agree. Noah’s gaze meets mine, “Whatever makes you happy.”
“Happy would have been doing it on my own,” I grumble.
“You did do it on your own, J. We’re just the bank. One who values your honor and integrity over your credit score and bank account,” Sawyer rationalizes, and it makes me feel better—marginally. There isn’t anyone in the world I trust more than them.
“Fine, it’s a deal, but I don’t want any special treatment. No erasing interest or forgiving the debt at any stage. For the next thirty years, the two of you are my landlords. And Sawyer, if you ever ask me to shine your shoes, I’m going to fucking sock you in the face.”
“There’s the brother I know and love.”