Kickstart My Heart (Burgers and Brew Crue #1) - Lacey Black Page 0,48
to get Burgers and Brew operational. We opened on a Friday night and were so amped up on excitement, I ended up doing a few shots with some of our patrons. At eleven, I went to the jukebox and played ‘Dr. Feelgood,’ in honor of our favorite band. I ended up dancing on the bar and singing along,” he says, shaking his head at the memory.
“The next night, at eleven, they started chanting for me to do it again. So I walked over the jukebox and picked another Crüe song to dance to. Suddenly, every Friday and Saturday night, we were playing a Mötley Crüe tune and celebrating.”
“What were you celebrating? Well, besides the obvious,” I ask, leaning my head against the cushion and listening.
“The success of the business, first, but to our friendship too. We met in college, though Jameson and I kinda grew up together. One night, we met Numbers in the bathroom. Wait, that sounds bad. We were in there…engaging in recreational pot, when he came in to piss. Turns out, the bathrooms were a horrible place to smoke, and we set off the sprinkles and fire alarm. We ran from the place, me, Jameson, and Jasper, with Isaac in tow. He was so pissed off at us because we ruined his fancy dry-clean only, button-down shirt. We haven’t been able to get rid of him since,” he says with a chuckle.
“So that’s why we call ourselves the Brew Crüe. We were smokin’ in the boys’ room when we became friends.”
Grinning, I reply, “That’s funny.” But my heart is still beating in my chest, my mind going back to his confession of smoking pot. Pot never bothered me before, but that was before. Before Devon. Before the arrest. Before I almost lost my daughter.
“That was the last time any of us smoked pot,” he says, taking a sip of his water. “I never really saw the appeal anyway, but when you’re in college, you do stupid shit.”
I feel myself visibly relax, because as much as I like Walker, that’s sort of a hard limit for me now. Too many bad memories revolving around them to want to get caught up again.
Needing a change of topic, I ask, “So you grew up here?”
Walker kicks off his boots and gets comfy on the couch, his hand resting on my arm. “I did. Jameson and I both. As I said, we met Jasper and Numbers in college. Jasper had a dream to run his own restaurant, and one night over a few beers, we made a plan for a place with both good food and a casual place to have a few drinks. Isaac was working at a financial place and hating it, so he sat down and started putting numbers together. The rest was history.”
“And Jameson?”
“He was working as a mechanic at a shop, playing guitar at a local pub on the weekends. He was easy to convince to join the business venture. Believe it or not, he’s the one who came up with most of our startup capital.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Working since he was sixteen and didn’t go to college. Just came and hung out with us all the time. He worked his ass off and saved. Jameson looks rough, but don’t let that fool you. He’s actually very smart, especially in math. He just chooses not to utilize those skills.”
“He’s crazy talented. I never imagined him to play and sing so beautifully,” I tell him, yawning.
Walker leans back into the corner of the couch and motions for me to join him. I nestle myself against his body and he wraps his arm around my shoulder. The warmth and comfort is instantaneous as I relax against him.
“Are you saying I can’t sing?” he asks teasingly, adjusting his legs so they’re extended on the couch.
“Well, to be honest,” I start, resting my cheek against his chest, “I was too distracted by your hip thrusts to pay any attention to your singing voice.” My face burns with embarrassment at my admission. Thank God I’m not looking directly at him anymore.
Not only do I hear the rumble of his laugh, but I feel it against my skin. “Well, hopefully you found them adequate. I’m pretty proud of those moves, you know.”
I can’t stop from giggling. “Oh, I’m sure.”
We’re silent for a few long seconds, both relaxing and trying to ignore the springs trying to kill us through the old cushions. “So you didn’t know anyone here when you moved?”