Chapter 8
Zane
I couldn’t believe my idiotic behavior, and the growing heat in the club proved too much, so I stepped out back on the enormous smoking deck and out to the edge to catch a breath of fresh air. What had I been thinking, trying to entertain Kathryn when I couldn’t even pay her the attention she deserved?
I slammed my fist into the wooden railing around the deck, livid at my actions, my situation, my life.
“Hey, Zane!”
I gritted my teeth. The last thing I wanted to do right now was handle business matters, and I recognized the voice before I turned to see Wes making his way over to me. But I didn’t have a choice in this, either. I’d chosen this career, and I had to take responsibility.
Clearing my throat and adjusting my cuffs, I took several slow, deep breaths to calm down.
“Zane!” he called again, as if I hadn’t already landed my gaze on him expectantly. It irritated me, but I forced a smile. Wes was a good guy, a great employee, and the perfect person to manage my club when I wasn’t here.
“Hey, man, great night, huh?” I asked as he approached. The noise level wasn’t overwhelming out here, but the chatter made it impossible to hear each other without raising our voices a little. I shook his hand, and he smiled back.
“It’s hopping in there for sure.” He wore a nice suit, and I appreciated his attention to his appearance. I wanted the environment here to breed high class, and Wes always presented himself in that vein. “We got a few problems to handle, though.”
“Well, let’s talk about it,” I said, resigned to the fact that I couldn’t dodge this and wait for a slower night, one that hadn’t already ended in disaster.
“We’ve got two clogged stalls in the ladies’ and a pretty bad leak in one of the urinals in the men’s. I got signs on them and a wet floor sign in the men’s, and it’s been mopped. But we need to get maintenance on it yesterday. The lines are getting bad for the women, and you know what happens when they get irritated.”
I did. The high energy atmosphere bred adrenaline, and given a stressful situation or impatience, that could flip from excitement to tension in a heartbeat. “Is Mila here? If she’ll go in and get some Liquid Plumber down those toilets with a snake, I’ll pay out a bonus.”
“I’ll get her in there.” Wes pulled out the small tablet and his stylus, making a quick note. I liked his organization. Everything ran smoothly under his management, and I trusted him more than most. “Also, sales are through the roof, which means we can’t wait till Wednesday to restock. I already have a list of requests from three of our bartenders. We’re low on a lot of liquor and a few popular beers. And we’re on our last keg of Bud Light up front, so that tap is going to run out before the night’s out.”
Damn. I knew tonight would be a busy one, but I hadn’t expected that. “Sure, set up a delivery for Monday. It’s the best we can do.” None of my vendors delivered on Sunday, and I had to hope tomorrow would be quiet after such a rave tonight. “Next?” I asked, almost regretting that I asked.
Wes’s expression turned grim. “Alan’s tonight no-show…again.”
I cursed under my breath. Alan had seemed like a great guy when I hired him, a creative and personable bartender. But he’d blown off work three times now – no phone call or text or email – and that was my limit. I wouldn’t allow him back in the bar, no matter what. “He’s done. Cut a live check for the hours he racked up we haven’t paid yet, and remove him from payroll. Send him a letter of termination.”
I needed to replace him, fast. Patrons didn’t keep coming back when they waited too long to satisfy their thirst. I couldn’t have my lines backing up like this. And I was in no place to pick up the slack, which would have been my usual solution. I sighed and tugged at my sleeves, trying to figure out what to do.
“Hey, Zane, I might have a fix for this, if you come back to the present,” Wes chuckled, and as I looked back at him, I saw how relaxed he was. He obviously didn’t have the same concern I did. He motioned to a guy standing to his right and just behind him, a guy I hadn’t noticed at first.
“This is Alfonso,” Wes told him. “He came in early tonight to apply for a position. I told him we’d hold onto it because we didn’t have a spot, but obviously, that just changed. He’s pretty accomplished, so I thought you might like to talk to him for a minute, see what you think.”
A miracle? My skepticism didn’t allow my stress to ease, but I now had a little hope. I held my hand out to Alfonso. “I’m Zane.”
He smiled, and I could see women here liking what they saw. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, and I didn’t have a problem admitting he was a good-looking guy. Obviously Latino, his caramel skin tone and black hair and eyes, along with a nice physique and ability to dress well, he had what it took on the outside. I just had to assure that he had the skills and the persona – and the reliability – to work for me.
“Zane owns the place,” Wes told him. “I’m sure the two of you will get along fine.” Turning to me, he asked, “You good? I’m going to get on the other issues.”
As Wes hurried away to take care of business, I asked, “So, Alfonso, what kind of experience do you have?”
He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his deep blue dress shirt. “I started bartending about four years ago, took a job at a restaurant in Manhattan. It was pretty ritzy, and it wasn’t busy most nights, but we got our share of the frenzy on Fridays and Saturdays. I did my time there for a year and picked up a gig at a popular nightclub downtown that was a lot like this most nights. I worked there until coming to Texas a few months ago.”
I frowned. “What brought you to Houston?” I couldn’t imagine leaving New York City and a prestigious gig that probably paid a fortune in tips alone. Sure, Houston was big, but it was no New York.
“I came to visit my grandmother a few months ago and met a girl. I got tired of dating long distance. She’s got a nice setup here, so I picked up and moved. I just got an apartment last week, and I’ve been looking for the right opportunity since.” He exuded confidence, which was what I looked for in any employee, especially if they faced customers.
“Name something you can pour similar to an amaretto sour that takes a patron by surprise.” Creativity and signature drinks were key to thriving in this business.
He paused for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. When he spoke, I heard the same confidence in his voice. “A Peartini would do. Or maybe a Pussycat. Alabama Slammers are popular in the south, I think. They’re similar. And then there’s a Reason to Live. My favorite, though, might be the Zombie, if you don’t have an adverse reaction to Bacardi 151.”
I couldn’t deny how impressive the list was. I’d expected one or two options, but he’d given me a list that would leave most bartenders with a blank stare. I felt the grin spread across my face. “Not bad. Do you have a signature drink?”
He chuckled. “I do. It’s the Three Wise Men at a Campfire.” I laughed, having an idea what that might entail, but I waited for the explanation. “It’s a triple shot of Jack, Johnny, and Jim with a splash of Everclear on top, lit and blown out. I typically offer the Fourth Horseman as a chaser – a single shot of Jameson.”
I liked it. I didn’t have a lot of bartenders willing to pour something so stout, and it would draw a lot of attention from customers. “Last question,” I told him. “What is your schedule like? Obviously, I don’t tolerate no-shows, and I don’t like having to find someone to cover a shift at the last minute.”
He spread his arms. “I’m wide open. You schedule me, I’m here, and if there’s something that gets in the way, I know far enough in advance to give you fair warning.”
“You’re hired. Come with me.” I led him back to my office, where I dialed the number to my on-call payroll specialist. I tended to make spontaneous decisions when I had a gut feeling, so I required 24/7 access.
While it rang on speaker, I told Alfonso, “I need you to give all your information to my guy so we can get you onboard right away. Do you have a problem starting tonight?”
“No, that would be amazing,” he said, his eyes large and his attitude eager.
“Good. If you can get this taken care of while I copy your ID and social security card, and then get out to the bar at the back as soon as possible, I’ll pay you for a full night.” I needed a quick fix, and sometimes, I had to pay for it. If this guy was half as good as I guessed, it was worth the expense.
“Sure thing, boss.”
“Taylor Wilcox,” came the voice at the other end of the line. It took too long for him to answer, and I didn’t appreciate waiting.
“Taylor, Zane Bradley here.”
“Oh, I apologize, Mr. Bradley. I stepped away from the phone for just a moment and got back as fast as I could. What can I do for you?” His nervous apology told me he heard the irritation in my voice. That was a good thing. When it came to business, I had a short fuse, and I expected a lot for the compensation I offered.
“I’ve got an employee I need on the payroll right away. He’s here, so you can take down his information, and I’ll get you the paperwork first thing Monday morning.” I nodded to Alfonso to take over and stepped just outside my office. I didn’t trust anyone alone in there, no matter how good of a person he or she seemed, so I wouldn’t walk away. But I had a phone call of my own to make, and I couldn’t speak in front of anyone, especially someone I didn’t know.
Listening for a moment to make sure things went smoothly between Taylor and Alfonso, I drew my cell out of my inner jacket pocket and dialed an unlabeled number. In three rings, the other end of the line clicked. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” I said quietly, my eyes darting up and down the hall to make sure no one around heard me. “I need to make a transfer.”
“To which account?” the deep voice asked.
“I want it sent to the account for Alexander.” I didn’t say anything else as a couple of my bouncers passed me and nodded a greeting, headed to the break room. When they were out of earshot, I added, “Same amount as last time.”
“You got it. It’ll be there first thing Monday morning.” The line closed, and I put my phone away, cursing bank hours. The world didn’t run on a five day week anymore, and I hated that banks still did. I didn’t like transfers pending. But I didn’t have any more control over that than I did the rest of my life, so I had to let it slide. I couldn’t fall into a funk at every obstacle or hitch I encountered. I just needed a break, a way to break free for a little while.
Soon, I promised myself. It wouldn’t take much longer, and I might actually find my salvation.