3
Oran
Circling my beer bottle absently, I stared at a bright glint from the light above the bar, but my mind was somewhere else. Budget-buildings were exactly what they sounded like— construction of residentials on a strict, low budget whose function was to simply break even. The concept was fairly new. No one wanted to lose money, but Seattle was a pretty avant-garde city, so I figured there’d be no harm in trying.
Budget-buildings promoted the opportunity for some philanthropic work, which was something I always acknowledged I needed. Otherwise, it’d be a lot more difficult to cover up the massive amounts of drugs I smuggled in through Port Authority, or worse, the things I smuggled out.
Around me, the restaurant was bustling, considering the fact it was a Monday, and I twisted on my stool to gaze out at the crowd and lifted my beer to my lips to hide my frown. Many of these people probably worked for me in some capacity but didn’t realize it. My development firm was an umbrella, with many more companies underneath it. Without my glasses, everything was blurry, but I could make out bodies, and that was enough.
Have you ever considered trying to make friends?Dr. Laura’s question from three days ago still plagued me, and my eyes narrowed as I scanned the restaurant. Obviously, this wasn’t the place to try anything. Everyone had their own little cloisters, and a stranger wasn’t wanted. My eyelid twitched as I shook my head, and I turned back around just as the bartender walked by me in a tizzy. Sipping my beer as I waited for my food, I listened to the conversations and noises around me, but it didn’t take long before a harsh voice rose above the others.
Seated at a tall-top populating the bar area, an older man and what appeared to be his son started berating the waitress. For a long moment, the viciousness of his tone blocked out exactly what he was saying, and I twisted with my beer to watch unabashed.
“What are you— stupid? IsaidI don’t need an I.D. I’m obviously over twenty-one.” My eyes narrowed into slits as the poor waitress froze from how voraciously her patron attacked her. Irritation flooded my veins, and I set my beer on the bar to lean back against the edge on my forearms. “I want a Dos Equis. Now!”
“Sir, I can’t serve liquor without an I.D.” Scanning the waitress, I realized two things— this might’ve been her first job because fuck all if the other waitresses carded.Not to mention she’s short, and this guy is looming over her while sitting down.She managed to squeak out the reiteration, but she was clearly uncomfortable, and tension raced down my spine and into my legs. “It’s . . . it’s the rules, and I don’t make them. Please calm down s—"
Oh, he did not like that.The man— older than me, if his grays were any indication— slammed both his palms on the table and the whole restaurant went quiet in shock. The waitress jumped three feet in the air, her dark red hair flailing around her wide, bright eyes, and I stood to walk over. Clearly, this guy was laser-focused on this poor girl because he hadn’t noticed me sitting at the bar ten feet away. Smug triumph flared in his eyes at the sight of me. Even with my 15/15 vision, I could see it.
“You’re the manager? Good. I—" Holding up a hand to silence him, I gazed at the man steadily as eyes bore into me from all sides.
“What is your name, sir?” He sputtered out something in his surprise, Jack Something, and I nodded curtly. “Jack. Where do you work?”
Again with the stammering, and I put on my glasses to really see his face as it tinged red. The faint lines around his mouth and eyes deepened, and he actually looked a little familiar. I’d seen his picture somewhere even though the company he was employed at was just a subsidiary of mine.
“What are you here to celebrate? Considering how strongly you insist on a beer, it must be something special.” This time, it was the son who sat up a little and smiled beyond his embarrassment, and I turned to him to completely ignore his father. “Well?”
“I . . . I apologize for my dad. He does this all the time. But . . . we’re celebrating me getting my first job in the field I went to college for.” My cheek twitched in a slight smirk at the strange mix of mortification and pride in this kid’s eyes. He wasbeyondembarrassed about his father, but he wanted to enjoy his achievement, which he very much should. I nodded before turning back to Jack.
“What about you, sir?”
“I work in a factory that makes artificial building materials.”Oh, yes, I’m aware. I own it.“I worked nights to ma—"
“I really don’t care, sir.” Jack went red in the face again, and I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to swipe through my contacts. “Are you aware your company has an ethical standard that all employees are required to sign off on at the start of their employment?”
“Uh . . . uh . . . I remember signing it.”
“Well, you signed it, but you obviously didn’t read it. It states that any public behavior considered belligerent or negatively reflective of the workplace is cause for termination.”Thatgot Jack’s attention and he tensed as his pinched expression became redder and redder out of the top of my field of vision. “I just watched you verbally accost a waitress for doing her job, and I was concerned, reasonably enough, about her physical safety that I personally stepped in. All you had to do was show her your I.D. It’s a simple, convenient thing for you to do. It’s also the law, and whether other waitresses abide by it or not is irrelevant.”
I finally found the number I wanted, tapped my phone’s speaker on, and held up a finger to Jack as he started to pale in realization. Maybe I wasn’tthebig boss, but I wasabig boss, and he fucked up. Bad.
“Mr. Santino, what a surprise. I assume it’s not going to be a pleasant one considering it’s seven-thirteen in the evening.” Cocking my head when Jack clearly recognized his supervisor’s voice, I waited for him to protest, to get loud and angry as he had been with a girl half his size.
“I’m here at Hansen’s Bar and Grill, and I have just acquainted myself with Jack . . . Something. I didn’t catch his last name. What’s your last name, sir?” To be honest, I was kind of enjoying this game. Jack grumbled his last name as I held out the bottom of my cell. “You’re his direct supervisor, correct?”
“Yeah. He called out tonight, said his boy got a great career opportunity and wanted to celebrate. He’s never called out of the night shift, so I agreed.” My brows rose in surprise and humor tightened my chest at the fact Jack hadn’t lied about the situation. True, it gave him a point or two, but I couldn’t un-see what I saw. “Why?”
“Fire him for an ethics violation.” Staring Jack in his flashing gray eyes, I didn’t let my smirk shine through at the gasps that sounded around me. Shock rippled through the air, and the supervisor, whose contact was just Material Plant Super 1 in my phone, choked a little in surprise.
“Uh . . . um . . . no offense, Mr. Santino, but what ethics violation are we talking about, specifically? Even though you own the place, I can’t just fire him without cause.”
“No offense taken. I just watched him physically intimidate a—" Turning to the waitress, I quietly asked her how old she was, and she stammered a weak ‘sixteen,’ which I expected. “Jack physically intimidated a sixteen-year-old girl over the presentation of his I.D. to buy a beer. As I said to him, I worried about her safety enough to step in myself.”
“Okay. I’ll put him on unpaid administrative leave pending an investigation, and not that I don’t believe you, but I need proof. If there’s cameras or, like, someone took a video on their phone . . . audio would suffice, too, I suppose.”
“I’ll get what I can to you in the morning. Thank you.” And, just like that, we hung up, and I turned on my heel to this girl cowering behind me. She’d calmed down a little once she realized there was someone between her and Jack, and I gestured toward the kitchen. “Go on and take a few minutes if you need to.”
She bolted for the kitchen without hesitation, and I walked back to my stool to signal the bartender for another beer for myself.Ants . . . sometimes try to eat other ants.
