Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“This can wait. Come on. Let’s go eat.”
“But—”
“A pregnant woman spent the last hour getting a meal ready for you, you really want to ditch her for this?”
“If by ‘this,’ you mean increasing this place’s ROI by no less than eleven percent and counting, yes, yes, I would.”
“Wait, for real?” My ears perk up.
Increase the return over investment?
I step into the room. “How?”
Davis is damn near giddy to nerd out for me, jumping up with a notebook in her hand. “I’ll tell you all about it on the drive.”
And she does, breaking down things I never even thought to think of, shit that should be obvious but wasn’t. At all.
The way she explains things, though, makes it easy to understand.
“That’s crazy,” I say, killing the engine in front of the house. “I didn’t even realize I was paying that tax.”
“That’s because it’s presented as a ‘flat fee,’ which it is, but when you don’t see the tax amount, your brain automatically assumes you’re getting a deal, when in reality—”
“They’re charging at a higher percentage and hiding that under the simple price mark.”
“Exactly.” She grins. “And all this, Crew, is only based on changes that are right there to be seen, and solely on the liquor side. Wait until I look at the beer and draft drinks. Plus, we still don’t know what can be saved using local farmers.”
“Damn.” A long exhale leaves me. Maybe I can pay down the loan on this place sooner than I thought.
“I haven’t even told you the best part.” She pushes her door open, meeting me by the hood. “The ROI increase is based on last year’s sales alone, and with one quick peek at this quarter’s? I think that number will be even higher. The bar has really picked up compared to a year ago.”
Pride blooms in my chest, but I lick my lips to keep from grinning.
I had thought we were bringing in more revenue, but using more product means ordering more, so I guess my mind focuses on the checks I cut versus what came in to make the move necessary.
“If you’re up for it, there are a lot of other ways to add a little more into the registers.”
We step into Willie’s living room. “Like?”
“Like charging a small fee at the door when you have a live band?” My face must give away my unease, because she rushes to say. “You’re the only bar in town with live music, Crew. That’s big. Even if you keep it low, like three bucks a pop, it would, at the least, cover the band’s pay for the night, if not more.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think our customers would like that.”
“So include a drink ticket, and bump entry to five.” She shrugs. “There’s a seventy-six percent chance that every person who steps into the door will purchase a second drink, and fifty-three percent of those will go for a third. You could keep it to draft beer only or choice of bottom-shelf white or gold.”
“Damn, she’s good.” Layla walks up grinning. “That’s a solid idea.”
“Yeah.” I stare at Davis, my chest growing tight, images of a future flashing through my mind. “It is.”
Davis smiles and spins, pointing at Layla. “Speaking of ideas, we went to the farmers’ market today.”
I look between the girls, my eyes narrowing as I follow behind.
“Davis…”
“Hear me out. You know those killer stuffed mushrooms you make? I was talking to this woman—”
“Leave them.”
I jerk to a stop, glaring at my best friend leaning over the kitchen counter. I swiftly look back, and Davis already has Layla on the back patio, and Layla’s thrusting a parfait into her empty hands.
“What was that about?”
Willie smirks, sipping slow as fuck from his beer like an asshole, before popping one and passing it to me. “Try this.”
Sighing, I step toward him, taking a small sip from the bottle. My eyes widen, and I look at the glass, swirling it around. “Damn, that’s good shit, Wil.”
“Your girl gave me the idea.”
My brows jump.
“Little less yeast, longer brew time and a couple scoops of caramel malt. That shit’s gonna hit. I can feel it.”
“Bro, I think you’re right.”
Willie nods, pulling a tray of barbecued chicken from the oven and dropping it in front of me.
I grab it while he loads his hands with watermelon and potato salad then follow him onto the patio.
Layla laughs, catching my attention, and I look as Davis’s hands flail all around as she explains whatever the hell it is she’s talking about.
“She gave Layla an idea, said use the slab of concrete on the side of the brew house as an outdoor seating spot, serve street food and bring in beach walkers. Use Layla’s recipes and serve my beers with ’em. Offered to be a part of it, excited to see my beer do well and confident in mine and Layla’s ability to make it work… according to my wife.”