Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
When Suzie, their head waitress, arrived, he left her in charge to go for his workout at the gym and his daily jog along the beach. He needed the strenuous exercise as a vent for his frustration. He was still pissed off about that morning’s surprise visit. No doubt it was a misunderstanding, yet, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut.
The bar was his.
It was so close. One more month was all he needed.
Back at the pub, he took ten minutes to shower and change into his black jeans and favorite Einstein T-shirt before going downstairs. Living in a bachelor pad on top of the bar was cramped, but it saved him the cost of renting a place, money he could put into the dream.
At eight, Jerry sauntered through the door, sporting a studded leather vest and a red headband. “Hey, bro.” He gave Sean a high five. “What’s up?”
Sean dropped the stock list on the bar counter. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
“Hell.” Jerry regarded Sean from under bushy eyebrows. “What’s eating you?”
“A lass called Asia.”
“Shit.” Jerry scratched his jaw, suddenly looking everywhere but at Sean. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
Sean narrowed his eyes, his uneasiness morphing into cold dread and hot anger. His tone was deceptively calm as he said, “It looks like she beat you to it.”
Jerry hung his head and met Sean’s eyes tentatively. “Times are tough, man.”
Tightening his fingers on the edge of the counter, Sean asked, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Jerry gave a drawn-out sigh. “I wanted to hang in there for you. I really did, bro.”
“Wait.” Sean rounded the bar and stopped in front of his boss. “Why does this sound like a fucking apology?”
“Sean, man, you know we’ve been losing customers.”
They’d been losing customers because holidaymakers didn’t come to Latin American paradise for Irish pubs with pool tables. He’d been telling Jerry that for the past two years. They needed to upgrade by putting tables outside facing the beach. They needed to serve fancy, expensive cocktails, and make it a joint where glitzy singles could meet and mingle. The biker theme was long since cold coffee.
“We’re losing drinking customers because you’re a hard-headed mule,” Sean said.
“Maybe you were right about all the fancy shit and pretentious mixes, but it doesn’t matter now. I can’t make the bills. It’s over, man.”
Over?
Just like that?
He refused to accept it.
Slamming a palm on the counter, Sean said, “Just one more month, Jerry. I’ve almost got it together.”
Jerry looked away again. “I tried.”
Desperate, Sean continued, “I thought your landlord was okay with cutting you slack.”
“I have a new landlord,” Jerry mumbled.
None of this made fucking sense. “What are you talking about?”
“The old one sold out. The new one wants to get rid of the bad debt and start with a clean slate.” Reluctantly, Jerry met his gaze. “No more credit.”
“Did you explain to him that I’m supposed to take over the lease?”
“Yeah. He won’t give me more time. He called yesterday to tell me he’s got someone else interested.”
“The Asia doll?”
Jerry rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
“We could’ve made a plan,” Sean gritted out as anger, disappointed, and desperation braided together in his gut.
“What plan?” Jerry raised his hands, palms up. “You need five grand just for a deposit.”
“So you decided to turn it into a fucking beauty salon?” Sean exclaimed.
“Not me,” Jerry replied in a reasonable tone. “The landlord said whoever comes up with the money first gets the deal.”
Wait. Whoever comes up with the money first?
A flicker of hope rose from the despair that had taken root in Sean’s soul. “Does that mean she hasn’t signed a contract, yet?”
“As far as I know, no. She’s also short of cash.”
Suppressing the urge to pump a fist in the air, Sean let the information settle. Slowly, his lips curved into a smile. “Then it seems we’re in for a money race.”
“Sean,” Jerry said with caution.
He shrugged. “What?”
Jerry knew how much the pub meant to him. He’d employed Maddy, for Christ’s sake. He knew the cocktail bar had been her dream.
A slither of reason returned. If things had gone this far, Jerry had to be deeper in the shit than what Sean ever thought.
“If you want to keep the place we can—” Sean started.
“No,” Jerry said quickly. “I told you. I’m too old for this. I want out. I need out.” He sighed. “Look, if you just take Juan’s offer to mix at his party, you’ll have enough money.”
At the mention of Juan’s name, Sean clenched his jaw. “I’m not taking his money.”
“Ten thousand fucking dollars is a grand sum, Sean.”
“It’s drug money,” Sean said, all but spitting the words.
“All money’s tainted. All money gets dirty somewhere along the line.”
“I’m not going to do a gig for a drug kingpin and that’s that.”