“Back to your original question. Let's up the cover charge to thirty-five dollars and call it good.”
“Thanks, Boss,” Mike calls over his shoulder as he heads out.
That was one of the easiest questions I’ve been able to answer in awhile.
Turning my attention back to my laptop, I focus on the accounts in front of me. Something's not adding up. Sifting through the piles of papers on my desk, I finally come across the schedules for the past few months. The tune from Foxy Lady starts playing somewhere on my desk.
Please don’t let there be an issue in Alchemy tonight.
Searching under all the piles of paper, I’m still unable to find my phone, so I decide to cheat and use the find my phone button on my smart watch. As my phone starts pinging, I realize the sound is coming from one of my suit jackets on the chair across from my desk. Pushing back from my desk, I stand and walk over to the chair, feeling around all the pockets. When I land on the right one, I pull my phone out of its hiding place and wake it up as I head back to my chair reading Teagan’s message.
Teagan: Why the fuck can't all the bartenders stock their stations before they leave?
Didn’t we have a meeting about this very thing with everyone months ago?
Me: Who? Which bar?
Teagan: 3 guesses, and the 1st 2 don't count. I'm on level 2.
Son of a bitch! What the fuck is wrong with that fucking pissant. I guess it’s time to let more of the fucking staff go.
She fucking warned me this might happen. Why didn’t we just fire all of them when she first got here?
Me: Isn't it time to have a meeting? If so, we'll start scheduling them and interviews.
Teagan: It is. Let's schedule something for next Sunday or Monday. Maybe do something at Belladonna's. But, I think we need a meeting with the security team and leads before.
Me: Agreed. I'll put it on the schedule.
I drop my phone to the desk and rub my temples in a futile hope that the headache starting will go away before the doors open tonight.
Son of a bitch!
Rolling up my sleeves, I prepare myself for the onslaught of shit that’s about to hit the fan. Picking my phone back up, I send out a text to the security and leads groups, notifying them about the mandatory meeting before adding them to the schedule.
Replies come in, but I ignore them. Unless there's a damn good reason those staff members aren't at the meeting they will be written up, if not fired. I’m sick of this shit, and honestly, they’ve had months to get their shit together. They were warned when I hired Teagan that if things didn’t change, they’d be out on their asses. A niggling suspicion creeps into my thoughts, and to quelch it, I open our schedule program and do a search for the problem children. Sure enough, their schedules line up with the days that I’m seeing sales plummet and money disappearing.
Fuck me! Are they fucking skimming money...or stealing liquor? Or are they giving drinks away for free?
I want to throw something, or better yet, punch someone, but the latter would get me thrown in jail. My only other option is to find out exactly what they are doing. Picking up my phone again, I send a new text.
Me: Mike, before we open I want to go over the security tapes from last night.
Mike: I can meet you in the booth in ten, if that works. I’m almost finished with my daily brief with my team.
Me: Ten minutes works for me. I can double-check a few more things and meet you there.
Placing my phone back on my desk, I sift through the rest of the papers there. Finding the documents I want, I pull them from the stacks and put them together in a new pile, making notes for my account manger. With the remaining time I have, I jump on the internet and search for ways to go paperless as Teagan has suggested.
Not wanting to get sucked down a rabbit hole in the search results, I pick up my phone, as well as the pile of papers I need to go along with the surveillance footage, and leave my office. All is quiet as I make my way to the security room which tells me no one has turned the music on in any of the clubs. Normally, in these hidden corridors, I can feel the beat from the dance club, but thankfully, not hear the actual music. That was one thing I spent extra money to guarantee. None of the clubs or bars I created in The Escape can hear music from one another, yet it's a one-stop-shop for whatever type of mood or escape someone might need. Well, all but one. And while I've thought about adding a sex club, I'm already a member of Crave, and I don't need––or want––to add that headache to my plate. I have enough as it is with the seven bars that fall under The Escape.
Though making a trip over to Crave tonight might be in order. My hand itches as my dick aches just thinking about having access to a sub tonight.
At the end of the hall, movement catches my attention as Mike and a few of his team enter the security booth. He’s always on the fucking ball. That’s one man, and his team, for that matter, that I never need to worry about.
Mike and his team take security very seriously, so I'm not surprised to find the door locked as I turn the knob to enter the room. It's what I've come to expect from a bunch of former military, off-duty cops, and the like. Pulling out my keys, I start to unlock the door when it opens, and one of the newer guys lets me in. He moves away from the door and takes a seat.
“Hey, Boss,” Mike greets me as I step in and close the door behind me. “What can we do for you?”
“I need to look back at a few nights at specific bars for a few employees. I have the dates but no set times,” I reply, moving closer to the table in the center of the room.
“How soon do you need it?” Mike asks, sitting straighter in his chair.
“Honestly, the sooner the better. I'm not sure if these employees are skimming money, taking alcohol, or just not charging folks, but I need to take care of it. Fast. Teagan informed me that the inventory count was off again in the dance club on the second floor.”
“We’ll find out what's going on. I'll move some of us around tonight so it gets finished before closing. That is, if you only want last night,” Mike assures me, picking his phone up off the table.
Has Teagan got Mike using a scheduling app too?
“Charlie, Scotty, you two take the first round. If we start searching before we open, maybe we'll get lucky. If not, I'll move our shifts in each of the zones.” Two men get up from the table and make their way to the wall of monitors on the back wall as Mike relays orders.
“You'll want these,” I add, passing over the pages with the employees’ schedules on them.
Mike reaches over and takes the pages from me. “Thanks, Boss. As soon as we have something, I'll text you the information. Besides this and the cover charge change, do you have anything else? I saw you want to have a meeting. Does that have something to do with this?” He holds up the papers I just handed him.
“Yep. Though it may be a moot point, depending on what you find. Teagan is the one that asked for the meeting. She doesn't know about the discrepancies yet.”
“You going to tell her before or after we nail the assholes?” Mike asks.
“After will probably be best. Which means we may change the meetings. But just in case, Teagan still wants to have them. I've added them to everyone's schedules.”
“Works for us. I'll let you know if anyone can't make it from my team.” Mike comments, passing the information I handed over to Charlie and Scotty.
“Thanks, Mike. I need to head back to my office before we open. Let me know if you find anything or have questions.” I turn, walk out of the security booth, and make my way back to my office.
Chapter 9
Teagan
I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere we’ve set in here, or the staff’s attire, but Alchemy has been slammed all night. I can only hope it’s getting whispered so it remains secret to the patrons who’ve entered. Thankfully, none of them are rowdy, and they’re all dressed more business casual than in jeans and T-shirts. Even those wearing jeans, which is a staple in these parts, h
ave on button-up dress shirts. There’s something about a man in a button-up shirt. I don’t know what it is, but it’s sexy as fuck. Maybe that’s why I try and stay away from Rex as much as possible. Though, that’s not the only reason. The man is sexy as hell. With the beard he’s sporting, his six-foot-three muscular frame, dimples, and smoky eyes, it takes everything in me not to fall for his charm.
My phone vibrates in my hidden pocket, and I reach for it as I scan the room, making sure tables are being bussed and everyone is enjoying their time.
John: Hey Teagan. We just ran out of a couple things. If I give you a list, can you grab them for us?
We ran out of alcohol? How the fuck is that possible? I stocked this place myself.
Me: What do you mean we ran out of things? I’ll be right there.
Rex: I’m heading into Alchemy now.
Great. Now Rex is going to think I fucked up.
I make my way toward the bar, picking up empty glasses and bottles as I go. With hands full, I step up to the bar at the same time Rex does. Damn him...he looks too sexy in his dress pants, button up shirt, and suspenders. He takes my breath away, and I wobble on my heels but quickly right myself, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, it seems I'm in the clear.
Stepping up to the bar, John opens the hatch and lets me pass. He takes the bottles from me, tossing them in the trash as I put the glasses in the washing rack.
“Okay, tell me what’s going on? I had thirty different bottles of whiskey stocked back here. I thought I had plenty of well liquor,” I tell him, trying to think back to what I stocked a few nights ago.
“Teagan, trust me when I say it wasn’t because you didn’t have Alchemy fully stocked. It’s because we’ve had that many patrons today. We’ve literally sold out,” John proclaims, and I do a double take at his words as Rex steps behind the bar.
I pull my phone out of my hidden pocket and open up the app I convinced Rex to start using to track sales. My eyes widen at sales we’ve done tonight. We’ve tripled our regular sales.
“Holy fuck! Our sales have tripled tonight!” I exclaim, glancing between Rex and John. “Are we selling more top shelf whiskey or a mix?” I ask John.
“Our whiskey connoisseurs are definitely in the house tonight, and since others hear them ordering whiskey, they’re trying the good stuff too. We’re also selling a lot of whiskey flights along with the Manhattan flights. Oh, and we’ve had a lot of folks comment on the music mix. They’re digging on the 1920’s music thrown in with stuff from the Rat Pack, Jazz age, and our Lounge music,” John adds as My Blue Heaven by Gene Austin ends and Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra softly begins playing in the background.
“The music is all Teagan,” Rex replies quickly.
“Nice! I may need you to make me some playlists. My girlfriend says I suck at having good music on when she’s around.” I shake my head at John’s comment because I know he’s full of shit. His girlfriend only dislikes the music he plays when they’re trying to be romantic––the goofball.
“John, I don’t think that’s completely true,” I state, raising my eyebrow at him.
He shrugs my comment off and steps closer to the bar as more customers fill the area.
“So, I have to ask...did you tell the staff to wear clothing reminiscent of the twenties, or did they ask you?” Rex wonders, following me as I make a circuit around the stations to tally up what John and the other mixologist need in order to finish out the night.
We only have three more hours remaining, but I want to keep them covered.
“Honestly, it wasn’t discussed at all. They wore what they wanted, but I think I want to keep it like this. I dressed up since it was opening night, but I didn’t tell anyone I was going to.” I respond.
“That dress is sexy as fuck,” I faintly hear Rex murmur.
“What was that?” I try to clarify. He’s never said anything that could remotely be considered sexual harassment, so maybe I misheard him.
“I agree. Let’s keep the outfits,” he comments, instead, and I turn to face him.
“I’ll text the staff in the morning and let them know. Unless I see them tonight before we close.” I watch him for any sign he might repeat what he said earlier, but no such luck. His lips are closed tighter than Fort Knox. “I need to go grab some bottles. I could use a little help.”
“Sure. Lead the way.” He gestures for me to move forward, and we head toward the elevators, weaving around the crowd.
As I pass patrons, I overhear bits and pieces of conversations about Alchemy, and what they’re liking and disliking. It seems the concept is spot-on. The only complaints I hear are about too many people, and that we didn’t have a specific brand of liquor. The crowd isn’t something I can really control, so I let those comments go in one ear and out the other. But the alcohol issue is definitely one I can look into, although we already have a pretty good selection. It was one of the things I checked out before I had my first interview, and I won’t lie. Rex knows his whiskeys. Since he hired me, we’ve only added a few top tier brands that we didn’t previously have. When it comes to alcohol, there isn’t much Rex and I disagree on. So, when I suggested adding more alcohol made regionally, he was completely on board. Beer and wine were the easiest to bring in. Sure, we carry the normal national brands, but we also carry local microbreweries like Brewtorium and a few wines from the wineries here in Texas.
The elevator dings as soon as we make it to the doors, allowing more people into the club. When the elevator clears, Rex and I step on.
“Damn, Teagan! You look smoking tonight. How are you? How’s the opening going?” Scotty, one of the security guys, speaks up.
At Scotty’s words, the atmosphere in the elevator quickly changes. I can feel Rex’s eyes bore into the back of my skull, and there isn’t any way in hell I’m turning to face him. Ever since New Year’s Eve, Rex’s attitude has shifted, and I’m not sure why. Hell, it’s not like that kiss meant anything. He ended up leaving with some woman. I’ve seen him at Crave, but I make sure he never sees me when I’m there. Taking a deep breath, I ignore Rex and his issues and answer Scotty.
“Thanks, Scotty. I’m great. Hey, do you know what the count is for Alchemy, or can you coordinate with Mike to find out? I’m worried we’re about to hit its capacity, and I don’t care to have the Fire Marshall come yell at us tonight.” I say, changing the subject and moving toward the back wall.
“Yes, ma’am. Which floor are y’all heading to?” Scotty asks as the doors slide closed.
“The main floor please, Scotty,” Rex responds, glaring at the poor guy. “It seems Teagan wasn’t expecting this big of a turnout, and we need more alcohol.”
Pushing the main floor button, Scotty visibly gulps, glancing back at me and blanching as I frown and nod in agreement, still not making eye contact with Rex.
“At least that says Alchemy’s a hit for grand opening. It could be worse,” Scotty adds facing forward while attempting to escape notice again.
Rex moves to stand close to me, and I ball my hands into fists. I want to punch him for being an ass. Scotty’s a flirt and didn’t mean anything by his comment. Hell, it’s how he’s always interacted with me, and just because Rex now has a stick up his ass, doesn’t mean everyone needs to walk on eggshells.
Fucking asshole.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Everyone exits the elevator within seconds.
“What crawled up your ass?” I mutter, knowing Rex can hear me just fine as he only has to take two of his long strides to be at my side.
“What do you mean what crawled up my ass?” I glance up at him, making eye contact for the first time all day to find him smirking down at me. His expression falls somewhere between pissed off and cocky.
Asshole.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your attitude with Scotty.” I stop to glare at him, placing my hands on my hips and forcing them to stay put.
“His statement was inap
propriate,” Rex states, as if it’s obvious. His eyes darken, and his features grow stony. That fine line he’s on is starting to tip more into the pissed off category as our discussion becomes a little more heated.
“It’s just Scotty. He’s not actually into me. Trust me.”
“Whether he’s into you or not doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t talk to you that way,” Rex tries to explain.
“What about what you said behind the bar?” I question him. “Was that appropriate?”
My question seems to catch him off guard, and his smirk returns. “No, and I shouldn’t have said it. At least not where you could overhear me.” He turns away from me. “Before we make a scene, let's get the alcohol you need to restock Alchemy.” He walks away, and I practically have to run in my fuck-me heels to catch up.
Chapter 10
Rex
Last call was twenty minutes ago, and I can’t wait to close tonight. I need to unwind after all of today’s obstacles. Fuck. I didn’t have this many issues––or frayed nerves––opening The Escape, but opening Alchemy has about done me in. I can’t believe I almost lost my shit on Scotty in the elevator. I fucking know he flirts like that, and I know Teagan is not his type. He doesn’t swing that way, but damn if for a split second, my brain didn’t misfire. It’s a damn good thing that little spitfire knows how to control a room because I might have gone completely apeshit if she didn’t.
I can’t let that happen again. My control can’t slip like this. I have to head over to Crave tonight and handle this issue one way or another.
Grabbing my phone from my desk, I send out a text to the guys.
Me: Any of you heading to Crave tonight?
Trey: I might still be here. Though, no one’s caught my attention yet, and I’m half tempted to call it a night.
Wes: Sorry man. Calla and I are.
Calla: Before Wes makes an ass out of himself, we’re home. If you need a wingman, I’ll send him out. But you can only have him for an hour. After that, you’ll need to send him home. Xo
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