Hartman had a soft spot for Mahoney. He had known the loud-mouthed columnist for more than three decades, and yes, the man had a knack for rubbing people the wrong way. But Hartman knew behind the temper, and stubbornness, Mahoney was a decent, hard-working guy. Although the whole water-tossing incident was disturbing.
Mills on the other hand, lacked charisma, but he was smart and hard working. He had a decent career in public relations, but for whatever reason, Mills had never distinguished himself enough to reach the highest levels of the profession.
Hartman thought pairing the two in his uncle’s bar had potential for both men. That was until the disaster at Il Rosa. After that ill-fated attempt at bringing Mahoney and Mills together, Hartman let go of the idea. So, he was surprised when Mahoney called and said he wanted to give the Kildare a chance. And he was even more surprised when Mills called an hour later and said the same thing.
Now, the three of them were sitting around a table in the corner of his office suite to discuss a business partnership. Hartman looked from one to the other, smiled and opened a legal-sized manila folder on the table in front of him and said, “Okay, gentlemen, let’s get started. I’ve written up an agreement for us all to read, and hopefully sign, regarding the two of you taking over the Kildare Tavern.”
“Hey, I went by the bar other day,” Mahoney said. “And no disrespect to your uncle, but the place really is a wreck.”
Mills shook his head and turned to his possibly soon-to-be partner. “Phil, come on. A little gratefulness.”
“I am grateful,” Mahoney said.
“Then show it. Don’t be an idiot,” Mills said.
“Don’t call me an idiot,” Mahoney fired back.
Hartman sighed and said, “And so it begins.”
The strange thing was the two of them had arrived at the office as if they were the best of friends. They were cordial and joking, and both seemed eager to start a new chapter in their lives. And it appeared they had decided to make an effort to get along. That was until they sat down. Then it was like the old battle lines were drawn again, and past hurts and slights bubbled back up.
“Yes, it is in a state of disrepair,” Hartman said, trying to ease the tension. “But that’s due more to my uncle’s diminished energy, attention and physical condition than anything else. With the right contractors, it won’t take much to have it looking brand new.”
“Do we gotta pay for that ‘not a lot’ part? Mahoney asked.
“I’ve decided to foot that bill,” Hartman said. “After all, it was my uncle’s place when it was allowed to fall apart.”
“Thanks, Reuben,” Mills said.
“I’ve drawn up a contract for us, all we have to do is sign it and you’re on your way,” Hartman said. “But before we do, I need to hear from both of you that you’re serious. Once you sign this agreement to run the Kildare, you’re locked in for four years. There’s no going back.”
“Whoa, four years?” Mahoney asked.
“Yes, the two of you must maintain joint ownership of it for a term of no less than four years. Four years is what the President of the United States gets. It’s the time it takes to complete college and high school, and I believe it’s a fair amount of time to determine whether either one of you is cut out for the business.”
“What if we get a job offer, a solid job offer, in our old field and want to take it?” Mills asked.
“Good question,” Hartman said. “I’ve gone back and forth on this one. I’ve decided you have to stick to the four-year rule.”
“Harsh,” Mahoney said.
“I want you two to give this a serious shot, with all of your attention. If you have an out, you’ll be distracted by thinking that maybe you can go back to your old profession when things get tough. And they will get tough, believe me,” Hartman said.
“And what if at the end of four years we want to kill each other?” Mahoney asked.
“You can return the bar to me,” Hartman said.
Mahoney was the harder of the two to read in terms of commitment. And it felt like the old newspaperman was debating whether or not to agree to the terms.
“I’m ready, Reuben,” Mills said, breaking the silence. “I know I’m signing off on a thirty-five year career in communications, but I don’t really have a choice at this point.”
“It’s no reflection of your talent or abilities, Jerry,” Hartman said, turning to Mahoney. “And you, Phil? Are you ready to give this a go?”
“Not like anyone has been flooding my inbox with job offers either, you know?”
“You’re another guy in a very unattractive demographic,” Hartman said.
“Like living in a bad neighborhood,” Mahoney said.
“Okay,” Hartman said, removing the contract from the folder. “I consulted with my lawyers and accountants in drafting this and everything is in order.” He took a gold pen from his shirt pocket and placed it on the contract. “Keep in mind this is a legally binding agreement that you’re about to sign.”
“I have a question, Reuben,” Mills said.
“Go ahead,” Hartman said.
“Why are you doing this?”
He looked at Mills for a moment, then at Mahoney. It was an interesting coupling. He was sure it would work out, or maybe not.
“I’m doing this,” Hartman said, “because I can.”