“Only trying to get us to join him and his slimy friends. Who needs men? We’re here for a girls' night.”
I laugh as they all start hooting loudly and then look down in amazement as the brunette hands me a hundred-dollar bill.
“In case you broke a nail dealing with that jerk,” she says, leaning into me. “Get some new ones on me. This club is amazing; we’re coming back again for sure.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling as I tuck the bill into my bra, and they all raise their glasses in my direction. It’s a chill vibe, and they’re not so drunk that I need to worry about them. If they’re treating my staff respectfully and enjoying themselves, that’s the most important thing.
After wishing them well, I head out of the room and back toward the atrium, looking down at the club floor. It’s a heaving mass of bodies, arms flailing, jewelry flashing. The DJ is killing it tonight, and the noise and atmosphere send a zing of happiness through me.
My older brother left me and my twin, Scott, in charge of Jensons while he sets up a sister club on the other side of NYC. Scott and I have been running this place for the past six months, and I’m proud that it’s going so well.
But my elation fades as I spot Scott on the other side of the atrium. He’s leaning against the balcony, staring down at the dancers, his gaze blank. In the flashing lights, I can see the heavyshadows beneath his eyes. He’s seemed so stressed lately, and every time I ask what’s going on, he deflects.
It’s nearly 1 a.m., and, while everything is under control, I decide to go up to the office and deal with the accounts. It’s been a long time since I went through the books, and I want to take something off my brother’s plate.
Scott prides himself on managing that side of things and never wants my help. But we both know I’m way better at anything financial. Scott will take hours going over every line of a spreadsheet, when I could do the same job in under thirty minutes.
Before I go to the office, I check in with Aidan, my assistant manager, but everything is running smoothly.
As I slip out the back and navigate the hallways behind the bar, I’m grateful for a bit of peace. I love my job, but the music and the pace of things can get to me at times.
I have my own office on the ground floor, too, but it’s tiny and not air-conditioned. As I step inside the wide space of Scott’s private sanctuary, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Kicking off my shoes, I head to the computer at the far end of the room. A large window behind me looks down at the streets of New York, and I can see a line from the entrance of the club winding around the corner.
I power up the computer and go to the folder where the account spreadsheets are kept. Opening it, I click on the current tax year and scan through the documents inside.
Up until September, everything is in order. The records are neatly filed with gross receipts, variances, and expenses, all listed neatly in columns. I open the latest account sheet, my brow furrowing as I see the number at the top of the screen.
How have we begun the month with an 80k deficit?
Even allowing for expenses, supplier payments, and invoices, that’s a huge variance.
I look through the spreadsheet, squinting at the screen. Everything appears to be in order, except that at the start of each month, there’s a growing deficit from September onwards, which only increases as the months go by.
What the hell? Have I missed something?
As I’m staring at the screen in disbelief, the door bursts open, and Scott trips into the room, as if he’s come at it at a run.
The look of shock on his face quickly morphs into fury as he slams the door behind him.
“What the hell are you doing, Jax?”
Chapter 3
Jax
Istand up from the desk, staring at my brother’s face in disbelief. He’s generally more laid back than anyone I know, but right now, he looks panicked.
“What do you mean -‘what am I doing’?” I demand. “I was working on the accounts! I wanted to do you a favor. Why is nothing balanced, Scott? Did you forget you can’t carry a deficit forward? The books need to reconcile from month to month.”
Scott pushes past me, marching to the computer. “I didn’t ask you to do the accounts, Jax. I have it covered,” he snaps.
“Clearly you don’t,” I say, squaring my shoulders as I walk over to him.
“This is my business,” he says, jabbing at the computer keys. “It doesn’t concern you. You’re not in charge of the books anymore, remember? Flynn leftmeto deal with everything.”
I glower at him, my jaw clenched painfully tight. “I’ve been helping Flynn with this stuff since I was sixteen, Scott, don’t you dare tell me it doesn’t concern me. And for the record, he didn’t leaveyouin charge; he leftusin charge.”
