Gina
“How so?” I asked.
“When this property came up for lease five years ago, Robert knew he wanted it. He’d been waiting for the perfect space to open his first restaurant for over a year, and we knew this was the place. We threw every penny we had into the business and had just started demo work when the trouble started.”
“What kind of trouble?” I asked, turning to him.
“The hateful kind,” he replied, looking down. “Within the first week after signing the lease, word got out around the neighborhood about what ‘kind of place’ the Pink Priest was going to be.”
“Which was what?” I asked.
“A gay bar, a drag show, a bath house. Who knows what they thought? We heard all the theories and stories. Everything except the truth. Robert had a vision. The Pink Priest was to be a place where an
