There’s still nobody there but AJ, who’s cutting lemons and limes into wedges in preparation for the day ahead, and Ran, typing away in his usual corner seat with an expression of concentration. It might seem silly, but I like having Ran’s company here. Even if we’re each doing our own thing, it’s kind of a nice feeling.
I take a deep breath and pick up another stack of mail to sort through, newly energized. I pick up a letter with a government logo on top that’s crimped into thirds and start skimming it.
Oh,fuck. Fuck me, fuck us, fuck the entire world right now. I brace myself on the table with my arms to steady myself, taking deep breaths to try to hold back a wave of nausea. When I’m sure I’m not going to puke on the floor, I pick up the letter with shaking hands and walk behind the bar.
“AJ, we need to talk.” I hold up the letter. “Unless you’ve been handling this on your own without telling me, we’re —” There’s no way to sugar-coat this. “We’re in deep, deep shit.”
AJ frowns. “What’s it say?” He indicates the letter.
I swallow down my queasy feeling before I answer. “That Guy Finnegan skipped out on, like,yearsworth of taxes before he sold the place. All of which Finn’s apparently owes now, along with penalties and interest and a whole fuckingshitloadof money we don’t have.”
“By when?”
“The fifteenth of next month, it says. Or they’re gonna foreclose on the building, the business —everything.”
“Can I take a look?” Ran pipes up. He extends a hand out over his laptop. I hand him the letter and wait. My heart sinks when his eyebrows shoot up and his lips press into a tight line.
He glances at AJ. “What year did you buy this place? How many years’ worth of financials before that did you get? Do you know how the former owner registered the business?”
AJ blinks at the barrage of questions. “Um, I bought it almost five years ago now. Guy Finnegan, the original owner, had been talking for a while about retiring.”
Ran nods as he consults the letter again. “So, as far as I can tell, Finnegan was totally up on sales tax remittance —which is good —but payroll taxes…” He breaks off and shakes his head. “This is bad.”
“If this was Finnegan’s fuckup, why are they coming after AJ?” I ask, my voice betraying my fear and frustration. “And besides, it’s been years. Isn’t there a… a whaddaya-call-it?”
Ran sighs. “Yeah, there’s a lookback period. And ordinarily, this would fall outside it.But, the thing is, if they thought there was something going on — you know, like not submitting payroll tax payments for…” he looks down at the letter again, “threeyears straight, and if they started an investigation already, that gives them the authority to look back further. And here we are.”
AJ sinks heavily onto a bar stool, looking dazed. “But I did everything on the up-and-up. I had an accountantanda lawyer look at everything beforehand. One of them should’ve seen this, right?”
I don’t like the expression on Ran’s face. “They probably saw a ledger that showed tax payments made. Problem is, apparently Finnegan didn’t actually make the payments. And even though it was his shady move,you’rethe owner now and the agency doesn’t give a fuck. They just want to get paid.”
“Can’t we negotiate with them?” I ask.
Ran’s sigh sounds ominous. “Maybe if it was a year or two ago, but…” He trails off and shakes his head. “Even if they gave you more time to pay, the problem is that you’re going to keep accruing penalties.”
“That motherfucker.” AJ still looks shocked, but now he looks pissed-off, too. “I betcha Finnegan knew. He must’ve known, right?”
Ran looks uncomfortable. “Yeah. I’m honestly racking my brain to think of some one-in-a-million set of extenuating circumstances, but I’m sorry, dude.” He drops his hand onto AJ’s tattooed forearm. Half a beat later, he shoots him a shrewd look. “Is this the first letter you’ve gotten like this?”
My stomach drops when I see the uncomfortable look on AJ’s face. “Uh, there was something, like, last year. It was a shorter letter. They just said they were investigating a payment shortfall, so I just copied the records I had of the payments I’d made and sent those in. I thought it was weird they said it was for different years, but I just thought maybe they got the dates wrong or something.” He shrugs, embarrassment taking over his craggy features. “Fuck, man,” he mutters.
Ran sighs. My eyes are still locked on him. I’m trying to send him a telepathic message, a plea, a prayer — I don’t know. It’s pathetic. Just aplease fix thisthat I hope he can somehow hear.
“Alright,” Ran says to AJ. “Get ahold of your accountant and see what he says. You might still be able to work out a payment plan of some kind.” Ran hands me the letter back. His face is grim. “Worst-case scenario, you’re going to have to come up with a lump sum in just a matter of weeks.”
That’s not the rescue I was hoping for. “What do we do now?”
“Fundraise, take on a business partner or look for someone who might be willing to buy you out —honestly, everything should be on the table for you now.”
I’m in a daze. “Fundraise —like an online thing, or a raffle or something?”
“Sure,” Ran shrugs. “Those are good ideas. Or just straight-up ask for donations. Honestly, I’d be thinking about all of the above.”
“OK, yeah.” AJ nods. “Let’s figure this out.”
I glance at the clock. We probably have another hour before any of the regulars show up. Ran and I set up an online fundraiser while AJ gets on the phone and starts arm-twisting. Within an hour, he gets two popular local cover bands to play for free and gets someone to donate a motorcycle to raffle off at an event we’ll hold a few weeks from now.
By the time Frankie and Bruce show up, the Save Finn’s Fundraiser officially exists. But the fact that getting people to contribute rests onmyshoulders — that I’m going to have to be the main salesperson asking people to donate, put a bid on one of the auction items or buy an event ticket —is terrifying.
