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I get up in such a hurry that my chair flies backward and falls over. I rush across the room, snatch the remote out from under the bar and swiftly change all the TV screens back to the Sports Broadcast Network.
Everyone turns my way just in time to witness me chucking the one and only remote into the garbage can.
Protests ring out across the bar.
“Whoa!”
“You gonna do us like that?”
“Ah, change it back, man!”
The worst part is, my employees are the ones complaining the loudest. This can’t be real.
I lay down the law. “Next person to change the fucking channel gets tossed out on their ass. Customer. Employee. I don’t give a damn.” My gaze moves across the room, staring down anyone who may want to challenge me.
There’s a bit of muttering and griping all around. But not thirty seconds later, the bar is back to normal. Orders are coming out, customers are watching the baseball game, and the staff is…well, most of them are pouting, but I’ll deal with them later.
I don’t really care what they think. I sure as hell don’t pay them to come here and watch trashy television, and I definitely won’t have the employees making Inez uncomfortable.
She gives me a small, thankful smile from the other end of the counter.
I nod at her. In my mind, I hear the words she whispered into my ear earlier. I’ve got your back. Well, I’ve got her back, too.
I glance toward the table where I was just hanging out with my brothers. They’re all sitting there, gawking at me.
Fuck. I really don’t want to deal with their questions and comments and ‘I-told-you-so’s.
So I head into the back, grumbling a quick ‘hello’ at Joe as I pass through the kitchen.
I only make it a few more steps before I pass one of my bartenders. Well at least, I’m paying him to be one of my bartenders. But here he is, hanging out in the kitchen, stuffing his face full of French fries, and streaming Vance’s interview on his phone.
“Didn’t your break end ten minutes ago?!” I bark at him.
“Oh! Yes. Sorry, boss.”He quickly puts his phone away, apologizes again and gets back to work, taking drink orders.
I storm into my office, collapse into my swiveling chair and drop my throbbing forehead into my hands.
This bar will be the death of me.
6
INEZ
“Are you sure?” I ask, the payphone to my ear as I tap a nervous heel in the alley behind the bar.
“I’m sure,” the listless voice on the other end of the call says.
“Not even a studio?”
“I’ve checked three times. Nothing’s available, ma’am. Not even a studio.”
I listen and let out a defeated sigh. “Okay well, let me know if anything changes.”
“Fine. But please don’t call back tonight. It’s late.”
And the phone goes dead in my ear.
That was the last property on my list of potential rentals. Shit—what am I gonna do?
