Page 87 of Player For Hire

One looked like it was going to be a restaurant, while the other looked to be made up of shop spaces.

He hopped out of his truck and headed up the freshly power-washed walkway, leaving me to follow. I shook my head and slammed my door shut. I peered up at the odd-shaped window that looked a little like a key. It was dark, but I could tell the wide circular window was definitely some sort of stained glass.

The cream brick was old and worn, but it had obviously been scrubbed recently. A pair of lights flicked on as Cal opened the front door.

“Coming?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Quickly, I jogged up the stairs to meet him at the ornate door. “This place is amazing.”

“Wait until you see inside.”

He disappeared into the dark building and suddenly, lights flared to life. Chandeliers glittered with all I could describe was weathered gold. The floor was stunning with intricate patterns that drew the eye deep through the lobby to a set of doors.

A small plaque was screwed into the wall in a typical Art Deco font. The ornate lettering spelled out Velvet Noir. The door was brass and polished to an inch of its life.

The outside street did not match the inside, that was for sure.

Velvet ropes were tucked against the wall in lush black and brass. Cal had a huge, old-fashioned key in his hand as he opened the doors. A large sign with hand painted letters said Speakeasy in scrolling gold detail.

The walls were dark, as was the jet-black carpet with brushed gold inlay. A massive velvet couch in dark teal sat beneath the sign with two massive potted monstera plants on either side.

It was obviously created for a social media moment, and I could picture a ton of selfies getting taken on the couch.

Cal stood to the side of the doors, waiting for my reaction. I didn’t even know what to freaking say. He nodded for me to keep walking inside.

There were stairs down into what could only be described as a basement space. The ceilings were low, and the dark wood and glittering chandeliers made the space beyond opulent. More teal couches were tucked into the strange nooks and crannies of the space.

I’d read about speakeasies, but I’d never seen one firsthand.

Back in the Prohibition era, people had been forced to drink in secret. Often the spaces were hidden in buildings, especially in basements or hidden rooms.

This looked as if it was a mix of both. Cobbled together add-ons made for weird corners that were perfect for privacy and intimate spaces. Oversized chairs and couches looked handmade to fit in the nooks. Gleaming black tables were tucked away for drinks. Sconces lit the dark walls, showing off the artwork in ornate frames.

But the real showpiece was the bar.

It took up the entire back of the room with old oak barrels cut to make it look like port windows. Each one was lit underneath with a mirror on the back and a single shelf showing off high-end whiskeys, gins, ryes, and rums.

The bar itself was a rich walnut color and gleamed under the sparkling lights.

“Holy shit.”

Cal stood at the end of the bar with his arms folded. “Yeah. I’ve been working my ass off over here. And I couldn’t have done it if I didn’t know you were taking care of Lonegan’s. I wanted you to be the first one to see it.”

My chest tightened. “Yeah, man, of course. You know how much I love the bar.”

“I do. And I admit it was two-fold. I’ve been trying to get you to do more managerial shit.”

I laughed. “Yes, you have. And I know I’ve been…”

“A slippery fucker?” Cal pulled off his cap and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. It was shorn short on the sides and back but he had a whole lot of it on top. As he scooped it back, I finally saw exactly how tired he was in the lines of strain that fanned out from his eyes.

“I wanted to talk to you about that actually, but you’ve been preoccupied.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, nerves suddenly churning in my gut. It was now or never.

“Fair. But you’ve been doing a great job. Far exceeding what I’d hoped actually. Which is also why I wanted to show you this place.”

“I appreciate that. I would really like talk to you about managing Lonegan’s.”

“Nah. I don’t think that’s for you.”