by Aiden Bates
At around ten o'clock, two outsiders staggered through the door. They drew stares before anyone got a good look at them, and if Sam was any judge he'd have to guess that they were probably drunk. They couldn't walk straight, and they only stayed upright by holding each other up.
"If those dirtbags didn't come in from next door, I'll eat my hat." Silas half-growled the words into Sam's ear as he passed by.
"No one local would be dressed like that on a Saturday night." Sam shook his head and watched the two yuppies try to shove their way through the thick crowd around the bar. No one was letting them through, and a well-placed elbow from a middle-aged trucker sent them both sprawling to the ground.
The two strangers whined and complained, but they got up and were more subtle about trying to edge up to the bar. Sam steeled himself for a fight.
The yuppies made it up to the bar on Sam's side, which was probably the first sign of intelligence that they'd shown all night. Both Marlowe brothers were big guys, but Sam was big while Silas was a tank. Sam staggered from the smell rolling off of these guys, and anger flared up inside of him. How had these guys been allowed to get so drunk that they stank like this? Who the hell had kept serving them?
Back in the office, blocked in by a baby gate, Siena growled.
"Give me a drink." The taller yuppie leaned against the bar and held out a twenty. "I'm thinking rum and coke. What about you, Sawyer?"
Sawyer smirked and pulled out two twenties. "Long Island Iced Tea and a blow job."
Everyone standing near the two yuppies went quiet.
Sam's palms went sweaty, but he ignored that. "I'm not serving you. The two of you are too tanked to stand up. You need to leave."
Sawyer pretended to gasp and pressed his twenties to his chest. "Did you hear that, Dylan? This dirtbag, thinking he's all tough and special because he's got tattoos and long hair, thinks he can just refuse to serve me." He slammed the twenties down on the bar and screamed, pale face going red. "I said I wanted a drink and a blow job, and you're going to give me a drink and a goddamn blow job." He reached out toward Sam and tried to grab at his hair.
Sam leaned out of the way without trouble. "You're drunk, it's actually illegal to serve you, and your overdressed ass isn't worth my liquor license." He sniffed and curled his lip. "Aw, man, did Dylan just piss himself?"
Brenda, the woman sitting at the bar next to Dylan, recoiled. "He did, Sam. Do you want to call the cops or something?"
Sawyer swayed on his feet. "Little pansy bartender doesn't have the sack, man."
Sam ignored him and bit the inside of his cheek. The right thing to do would be to call the cops. They needed to get these guys out of here and make sure they didn't drive home, and Sam didn't trust them not to choke on their own vomit. They needed a paper trail to prove that they hadn't served these pricks, too — he wasn't being entirely altruistic.
The thing was, if the cops found out that they'd been served at Trattoria Siena, it would come down on Logan. Sure, it was the bartender's fault, and the bartender should be freaking fired for that, but Sam knew enough about how things worked to know that it would eventually land on Logan's head anyway. He sure as hell didn't trust Utkin to have Logan's back.
"Call an ambulance," he said. "Davy still works over at the fire and rescue, right? Give him a call. I think it's obvious that these guys can't drive home, and I'm certainly worried about their safety."
Brenda pulled out her phone and dialed as Dylan hopped damply up onto the bar. He then jumped back into Sam's space and took a swing at Sam.
Sam's muscle memory kicked in before he had time to think. It wasn't as though sloppy-drunk Dylan was a real threat. Sam stepped to the side and grabbed Dylan's wrist, throwing him to the ground. He put a foot on the drunk's neck and snapped, "Stay down."
Dylan stayed down.
Sawyer screamed. "He can't do that! He can't do that!" He tried to climb up onto the bar to help his friend, but Brenda tipped the barstool he was using as a ladder and Sawyer fell to the floor. A couple of other customers grabbed him while Silas hopped up onto the bar so that everyone could see him. "Cops are on their way, folks. If they're people you'd rather not be seeing right now, you'd probably better be on your merry way."
Damn it. Sam shook his head but didn't gainsay his brother. The damage had already been done anyway.
The cops showed up and arrested both Sawyer and Dylan. They asked questions about how the pair had gotten so lit, but Sam very firmly told them that he had no idea where they'd been drinking before they came in. Brenda and the others confirmed his statement that they hadn't been served at Joe's, and the cops knew that they had security tapes to back him up.
Everyone left once the cops took off. Fortunately, people had been generous early on, because the rest of the night was shot. All that remained was to sit there and clean up after those two yahoos.
"Why were you covering for that jackass?" Silas pointed in the direction of the trattoria. "He just cost us hundreds of dollars!"
"It wasn't him, dude." Sam put his mop away. "It was the bartender, and don't get me wrong, I'm totally going to let him have it about the damn bartender. But they're struggling, and he doesn't need the extra hassle from something like that."
Silas stared at him for a long minute, and then he shook his head. "He's going to break your heart, little brother."
***
Logan's Saturday was just drawing to a close when he saw the flashing blue lights. He cringed, but he didn't go next door to check it out. He'd had enough trouble on his side of the property line, between all of the squid going bad in one day and two of the burners on the stove failing at the same time. Then there had been those two drunks, good Lord, what had been up with that?
Jennifer had stuck her head into the office to tell him that a couple of good-for-nothings were hassling the bartender. She said they were threatening him and badgering him into making them more drinks than they should really have had. That put Logan into a bad situation. He needed to protect his staff and his liquor license, but he also couldn't afford to alienate customers.
He decided to shut the whole bar down. It wasn't a great solution, but they didn't have a lot of people at the bar anyway. Those two twerps had chased a lot of people away from the bar already, which didn't do great things for the trattoria's reputation. The bartender would lose money on the deal, but he should have let Logan know there was a problem earlier.
He hunkered down and finished cleaning up, and then he finished preparing the deposit. When he was done, he went ahead and got ready to leave. He wanted to stop in and check on Sam, but he was in a bad mood and he didn't want to spread it around. If Sam's place had been visited by the cops, he was probably going to be in a bad mood himself. They should probably stay apart until the next day. He sneaked out the back door and drove away, no one the wiser.
He got to work the next morning in a better mood. Today was going to be a better day. Sundays tended to pass with less drama. When he went to unlock the door, however, he found Sam, Silas, and Siena in his way. Sam didn't look happy.
"What's wrong?" Logan stepped forward and reached out. He snatched his hand back, though, when he realized that the rest of his people were around and watching.
"Do you remember having any issues with any drunk men by the name of Sawyer and Dylan last night?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest. Siena lay down at his feet, but kept her head up in an alert pose.
Logan scratched his head. "Look, I kind of feel like that's an internal thing." He glanced at Silas. "I like you guys, or at least I like you, Sam, but I run my own business and I'd appreciate it if you guys did the same."
Silas snarled and stepped into Logan's personal space. "You didn't mind your own business very well last night, did you? Those two jackasses came into our bar, demanded service, pissed on the floor, and tried to attack my brother when he refused."
Logan doubled over. The words hit him like a physical blow. "Oh my God. Sam, are you okay?" He straighte
ned up and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"I'm fine. I was going to just call an ambulance for them, because it was clear that they weren't able to take care of themselves, you know? But someone called the cops when they decided to hop the bar and start a fight." He rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I'm not sure what about us told them that was a good idea."
Even Silas found the humor in that. "Probably the same part that thought it was a great idea to walk into a biker bar and pee on the floor, little brother."
Logan shuddered. "I can't believe it. I'm so sorry. I had no idea that they'd come bother you. I basically just shut down the bar when they got belligerent with my bartender. I'm going to have a talk with my bartender, and believe me, it's not going to happen again."
Silas leered at him. "I know it's not. Want to know how I know?" He disengaged Logan's hand from Sam's shoulder. "Because if any trash from your restaurant sets foot in our bar again, or even breathes near my brother, I'm not calling the cops. You understand what I'm saying here, Logan?" He turned around and stalked back over to his own establishment, muttering obscenities under his breath.
Sam looked over at Logan. "Look. I get how hard you're trying to keep this place going. And I'm doing the best I can to help you." He glared at the trattoria. "I didn't tell the cops where those two pricks got all boozed up."
Logan winced. "Yeah. Thanks. That would have been a disaster. They were really pressuring the bartender last night, intimidating him, threatening him —"
Sam shook his head. "Yeah, I know, they tried that with me. The thing is, the liability comes back to you and your bartender if someone gets hurt and you guys served him, okay? I covered for you as much as I could. It's only going to go so far, and to be honest, we had to shut down for the rest of the night. No one wanted to stick around once the cops were on their way, plus we had to clean up after the mess they made. Those two guys cost us money, and they weren't even our fault. Get a hold of your people, man."
Logan straightened up. "Yeah. Yes. That was on me, and on my bartender. I'm sorry. I'm going to have very strong words with the two bartenders we work with and it's not going to happen again." He met Sam's eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little under the weather." He smelled a little off too, not that Logan could quite put his finger on it.
"Fighting off a cold." He waved a hand. "I'll be fine. I've got the constitution of a horse. Just be careful, okay? We aren't trying to get you shut down. We're trying to be good neighbors, but if we have a lot of people coming in and pulling stunts like that, it's going to get bad. Silas let me get away with covering for you once. I don't think I can pull it off again."
"I hear you." Logan patted Sam's back. That was comradely, right? He could get away with that much in public instead of sticking his tongue down Sam's throat like he wanted. "I'll see you later maybe?"
"I'd avoid Silas for a few days if I were you, but we'll see what we can sneak in." Sam flashed a quick grin and disappeared with the dog.
Logan called the other bartender to come in for a meeting, and he had the talk he needed to have with the whole staff right then and there. He knew that they'd all had the required alcohol training, but he also knew that Sam was right. "I need for you all to know that I have your backs," he told them. "If a customer is drunk and disorderly, I'm not going to expect you to serve them and risk you getting sued or worse. What I do expect — what I do need — is for you to actually tell me that there's a problem before it gets to the point where it did last night. Those two drunks went next door and attacked someone. The police were called. Whatever you might think of the people next door, they're allowed to enjoy their own bar without someone jumping over the counter and taking a swing, right?"
Hopefully, that would solve the problem.
They got through Sunday without much more trouble. Monday was a different story. Wes Utkin showed up at one thirty, after the lunch crowd dispersed, and insisted on a private meeting with Logan.
"I got a complaint, Logan." He steepled his fingers in front of his face and sat back in his chair. "I got a complaint from a pair of fine young men who found that the bar here was unceremoniously shut down before posted hours. Can you explain that?"
Logan's stomach burned with acid. Of course this would come back to bite him. "It turned out that the bartender, James, was exposing us to significant liability. He was serving some people who were obviously intoxicated, which isn't just illegal. Previous case law states that people who are harmed by intoxicated persons can sue the people or businesses who supplied that alcohol." He sounded like a textbook, and he knew it. It was better than letting Utkin hear his anger, or his fear.
"I see." Utkin stared him down for a moment. "I also noticed that the police were called to that dirty place next door. I wonder that you didn't capitalize on that opportunity to have them shut down, Logan. Losing their liquor license would force them to close, which would give us the perfect opportunity to expand."
Logan fought to keep his hands open and relaxed. They only twitched a little bit, but he didn't punch his boss in the face. "Sir, did you plant those men?"
Utkin lifted his eyebrows, just a little bit. It was the only admission Logan would get from him. "If I had, you would have let a perfectly good opportunity go by."
"Sir, there were multiple witnesses to what they did next door. No licensing board is going to pull their license just because an outsider says, 'Oh, look at the problem there.' They have proof that they're not the ones who served those drunks, we are. That would rebound onto us faster than we can say rebound." Logan shook his head. "I'm committed to this restaurant, sir. I'm more committed than anyone else to this restaurant, because I have more to lose." Utkin couldn't ever know how much Logan had to lose, but that was talk for another day. "I'm not going to sit there and throw a bunch of easily detected underhanded schemes at the problem, because that just undermines us. When there is a real issue, something that can actually get something done and help the restaurant, the town will dismiss us out of hand."
Utkin tried to stare him down for a few minutes, and then he looked away. "I suppose you're right. I'm simply very concerned about the longevity of this venture, Logan."
"We've been open for six weeks, sir. It takes time." Logan sighed and closed the ledger on his desk. "Business has picked up maybe twelve percent since we started the ad campaign. Hopefully most of those customers are happy customers, and they'll tell their friends. The restaurant business is a tough business to be in."
"Most new restaurants fail within a year." Utkin drummed his fingers on the top of Logan's desk. "I notice that you took a day off last week."
Good Lord, did Utkin have nothing better to do with his time than check up on Logan? He knew that he should be flattered that his idol was so willing to mentor him so closely, but right now it just felt creepy. "I hadn't taken a day off since I started. I needed to look at something besides the walls of this office." He made himself chuckle a little bit. "I thought maybe a little fresh air would help me to get some perspective on things."
"I hope it did. Although your time would have been better spent on your golf game." Utkin toyed with the name plate on Logan's desk. "If you want to make district manager, you're going to have to master the little things. It's not just running a restaurant, you know. You need to be able to keep up socially with the others in your position. You need to be able to strike deals with landlords, with suppliers, and believe me when I tell you that's not going to happen in an office somewhere."
"I know, sir. Maybe while you're here we should go play a few rounds." Logan thought about his clubs, dusty and half-forgotten in his closet.
"I think that would be delightful. Sunset Ridge has an agreement with my country club back in Connecticut. We'll play there, perhaps tomorrow. Does that fit into your schedule?"
Logan knew that the question was rhetorical. Unless the health inspector was coming in, Logan's schedule would be rearranged to fit golf in. "Of course, sir."
Utkin took h
is leave, and Logan was left to contemplate the coming dinner crowd and tomorrow's golf game. He knew that drivers, putters, and greens were going to be at the bottom of their conversation list. No, Utkin was going to want to talk about the restaurant, why they were bleeding money and why Joe's was still there.
Part of Logan was appalled at the idea that his boss had sent in two young guys to get hammered and go next door to try and entrap the Marlowes into losing their liquor license. It was such a reprehensible way of doing business that his whole being recoiled from it. Was this what it took to build success, or at least Utkin-level success?
Apparently it was. Logan didn't know if he had it in himself to be quite that ruthless when it came to other people, or quite that loose when it came to the truth. Could he do what Utkin had if he weren't in love with one of the owners of the bar next door? That was also a question that needed to be addressed.
He didn't know if he knew the answer. What he did know was that he meant what he said when he called the scheme easily discovered. The Marlowe brothers had a lot of allies, and their customers would quickly testify on their behalf. The Marlowes had been too smart to fall for the ruse, too.