Reservations

Levi stood, forgetting all about his feet as he stuffed the money in his front pocket while pulling his sandals out of the locker. He dropped them to the floor, slid his feet into the welcomed comfort, then tossed his new work shoes in the locker, before slamming the door shut. He was way past exhausted and needed sleep, but he couldn’t take his mind off the money. If he kept the PT position and worked here four nights a week, he could get things paid off quickly. For the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful. Warning himself to slow down and keep it all in perspective didn’t stop him from thinking about all the things he could do with the money as he walked through the parking lot toward his car.

Chapter 7

Two weeks later

Thane took the staircase up to the nightclub’s office, using the handrail to pull himself forward. Man, he was dragging ass. The scowl on his face had guaranteed the club staff kept their distance. Whoever had the bright idea that he spend all that time driving from one low-performing restaurant to another was a fucking idiot, even if that someone was him.

He pushed through the office door, letting it slam shut behind him, thankfully blocking out most of the noise from the club below. What he liked most about this club was the fact the clientele had better taste in music. It wasn’t thumping so loud he couldn’t hear himself think.

“Hey, papi.” Julian snickered from behind the desk. The guy hadn’t even bothered to look up, his fingers gliding swiftly over the keys of the calculator as he entered numbers from a spreadsheet.

Yes, Julian was a pain in his ass most of the time. His overeager attitude had him calling Thane at all hours of the day and night, but he was kicking ass with this venture. He’d taken Dave’s position and was now working on ways to increase exposure through marketing and advertising campaigns. He was impossible to keep a thumb on, and the profits spoke volumes to the success of all Julian’s efforts.

“I feel old enough to be your father.”

Julian kept his eyes downcast until he got to the end of the row and penciled something in.

“You know they have computers for that type thing.”

“Yeah, I’m just keeping a backup,” Julian said as he finished working on whatever he was doing.

“Julian, you’re working yourself too hard. Everyone here’s too afraid to steal from you.” That earned a straight up, loud bark of laughter.

“So you heard from your corporate trainers?” Julian asked, that handsome face now focused solely on him. He was such a nice-looking guy, and it was a shame that all Julian could see was the scar on the right side of his face, a reminder of the night he was attacked, but no one else even noticed, not even Thane, and he’d spent the most time with him, trying to get him back on his feet.

“Yeah, I did. They didn’t have favorable reviews. They said you don’t follow rules, you make split second decisions without looking at all the angles, and no one quite understands all the eye-candy sashaying around here.” Thane easily ticked off the top three points of contention out of a list that was dozens long after his team returned from their training.

“That’s because I’m doing my job.” And everyone else’s, Thane thought to himself. Instead of saying that, he changed the subject.

“How are the reservations in the dining room?”

“I’m happy to say we’re booked about seventy percent full for the next six weeks.” Technically, Julian shouldn’t know that information. He had nothing to do with the restaurant side of things.

“And the diners are coming to the club afterward?” Thane asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he lifted a palm to cover the yawn he couldn’t fight off.

“Very high transition rate. Maybe as much as sixty-five percent,” Julian said.

“That’s good.”

“I think so too. We’re having a theme night tonight. Mardi Gras. It seems to be going well.” Julian pushed away from the desk and went to the floor-to-ceiling mirrored glass, looking down over the club. “Theme nights seem to please the older crowd.”

“Do they?” Thane shoved to his feet and trailed after Julian, letting free another, louder yawn. He considered the clientele, deciding it might be the costumes, or maybe the different music playlists that were the draw. They may need to consider adding some of those changes into the day-to-day operation. “Have we done any research on what’s the appeal to the older generations?”

“It’s the body paint on the dancers. It’s also the masks on the waiters. The regulars pretend they don’t know who each of the servers are. We do an unveiling around ten. They get a rise out of playing the game.”