“We are going to get so much foot traffic.”

Alice rubs her hands together, examining the thousand square foot store front that was currently under construction.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” I nod, looking around the space and seeing all of the vision boards I’d designed with the interior decorators coming to life.

It turned out, pairing with the Foodie Conglomerate hadn’t been the wish and a prayer I’d been doubtful to bank on. They were the real deal, bringing us in for a meeting a month ago and basically moving lightyears since then. They’d believed in us, listened to our ideas for expansion and brought in the best people to help us. With their help, we’d scouted locations around the nation’s capital until we found the perfect space right on the Georgetown strip. I’d sat down with the trendiest designers, who were perceptive to my idea of both a bar and an ice cream shop. They’d worked to secure us permits, a crew, and anything else we needed.

And now here we stood, in the half-finished brainchild we’d always dreamt about. The walls were painted a creamy beige, the color of coffee with almond milk. Along one wall stood a long, weathered white counter with a wood top. It held the cash register, and empty stainless steel pits, twelve of them total. They were individual freezer systems, and I’d found the idea in an industry magazine. Instead of having the typical ugly white bubble case to hold our ice cream, we were going to showcase the flavors like they deserved to be. The wall behind it was blank, but Alice had a local artist friend who was going to come in and do a word art mural for us. I’d seen the mockups, and was so excited about it that I almost got a boner thinking about how awesome it was going to look.

The bar was along the other wall. A dark, grainy wood with copper stools seated neatly in front of it, the construction on my favorite part of the restaurant was finally complete. And that part … it took my breath away. An entire wall, top to bottom, of criss-crossing wood beams that created a giant wine rack. It was better than a blow job.

Okay, maybe not a blowjob. But it was close.

“Do you think we’ll scare away some of the families with the bar aspect?” Alice rubs her hand across her chin.

“Getting spooked? I thought you had faith in our vision,” I tease her. “No, we’ve run the numbers with the business guys at Foodie; they think it will only increase sales. It attracts the college crowd, as well as younger parents who want a more hip family place to bring their kids to. This allows them to not only get a sweet treat for little Timmy or Susie, but also let their hair down a bit with a glass of Pinot Grigio.”

“Look at the sales guy over here talking figures and estimates. Who are you?” Alice hoists herself onto one of the mismatched stools standing by the bar.

“I did graduate with a business degree, smart-ass.”

Jana came up from the back, her eyes wide. “Can’t believe that kitchen. You are going to make some kickass dessert in that kitchen.”

She fist bumped me, which made me grin. Usually, she was a little more reserved, but I think we were wearing off on her.

“Should we do a taste test? I think it’s only fitting that the three of us pick the first wines we’ll feature.” Alice pulls a crate up, one that I didn’t know she’d been hiding there, from behind the bar.

“Technically, we don’t have a liquor license yet …” I bit my lip.

“Stop being a pussy.” Jana slaps my shoulder.

Alice and I bust out laughing, because we’ve definitely corrupted her over the years.

We all pull up a stool, the shapes and sizes unmatching because we’re still trying to decide on decor. As Alice pours us each a taste of the four bottles she brought into red Solo cups, I can’t help but sit back and revel in it.

“Who would have ever thought we’d make it here?”

Cones & Corks had been a half-assed business scheme when it had popped into my head. I’d rented the first truck, fixed it up with the help of Bryan … and man had I bought him a lot of alcohol to cover the costs of labor. That truck had been my baby, I’d slept in it some nights. I would drive that thing for hours, doing a secret little shimmy of my hips whenever I made a sale to some kid in a neighborhood, or a woman looking for an after work pick me up. I’d had to give a quarter of my profits back to the rental company, and covering overhead costs of making the ice cream in my own apartment kitchen had nearly bankrupt me. But I’d believed in it. Sure, I didn’t quite know that we’d be here three years later, but I had never stopped.

“I did.” Jana speaks after we all taste the first wine, her head bobbing that the grape was good. “When I joined y’all, I had this feeling that I was coming on to something bigger than just that little office space we used to have.”

“That’s so sweet.” Alice gave her a sugary smile and we all laughed because it was such a weird expression on her face.

“I think that in honor of us, Jake should create flavors with our name for the opening. I vote for Jana Jamocha!”

Alice grumbles. “Not named-after flavors again.”

Starting on my third glass, a deliciously dry red, I nod in agreement. “It’s a must. I’ll make you some sour apple flavor, Alice, to match your soul.”

“Do you think we’ll make it a year?” It’s the first time I think I’ve ever heard a niggle of doubt in Alice’s voice.

“I have to believe we will. Otherwise, we’re shooting ourselves in the foot before we even open.”

There was a shadowy omen, or curse, that most restaurants sunk within a year. And while it was always a thought in the back of my mind, I just kept moving. I would sweat and bleed for this place, so that it wouldn’t fail.

“If he says so, then I’ll take it as sermon. Oh wise one.” Alice raises her hands and bows to me.

“In a year from now, let’s do a shot of Jamo at this very bar.” I finish my last Solo cup and sit back.

“I thought we didn’t really do liquor.” Alice makes a good point.

“We’re wine snobs, yes … but for celebration I think we can make an exception.”

We all nod quietly, and I pray like hell to whatever God listens to my unrepentant ass that we strike gold.