After about forty minutes, we finally pulled into the parking lot of the club. It was a nice one. The building was kept up well, it had a great location not far off the highway, and was near plenty of businesses to attract businessmen.
Ma did all the hiring, even for the kitchen, and took pride in it. Destiny’s Desires usually attracted a mid to higher clientele, which helped weed out a lot of issues. Although, we had to keep bouncers because white collar men with more money than they knew what to do with had entitlement issues sometimes.
We passed the member watching the door and walked inside. The afternoons were slower, but there were still men hanging around, and dancers on stage. The place was dim except for the lights on stage and the party lights for ambience. Big hair band rock played as we headed for the office.
“Hawk,” someone called.
Turning, I clenched my jaw. “What’s up, Rayne?”
The flamboyant, but well-dressed and coiffed DJ grinned, his eyes raking over me. “I know you are so happy to see me. And I sure am happy to see you,” he said with a wink. “But I need you to handle Jodeci.”
“What seems to be the problem?” I asked with a sigh. Jodeci was the other DJ.
“He keeps fucking up the schedule and showing up late for shift change. I have other things to do,” he said with a flourish of his hand.
“I’ll deal with it.”
I was walking away and heard Rayne making a “mmm”sound before he said, “I bet you will.”
Rooster whipped around, but I grabbed his arm. “Let him be. I can’t help even the men want me.”
After finally making it to Ma’s office, I unlocked the door and went to sit at the computer. I had to check the schedule and find Jodeci’s number and address.
Handing the info to Rooster, I told him, “Deal with that. These pricks act like they’re selling out EDM concerts.”
Rooster tucked the paper into his pocket and nodded as he left the office. After a few clicks and making sure the schedule for the following week was up to date, a knock was on the door.
“What?” I called out.
Rooster cracked the door, then opened it. Another member, Lance, stepped inside. “Prez, sorry, but I heard you were here. Our chicken supplier shorted us. I made the delivery guy update the ticket but Mama Hen—well, you,I guess—has to reach out to the vendor.”
My brow pinched and I looked up at him. “Are you fucking serious? How much?”
He nodded. “Yeah, with a wing special for lunch, kinda fucking sucks. It was half.”
I motioned for him to give me the paper he had in his hand and he promptly left.
After a twenty minute phone call, I had the missing chicken coming in two days.
“Let’s go. I gotta tell Lance to change the specials for now, then we can take off.”
After locking the office and heading toward the kitchen, I was stopped again. This time, it was Jules, one of the bartenders. “Prez, one of the taps is fucked up, but they need a manager to put in the service request.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I asked, “Do you by chance have that number and our customer info handy?”
Jules handed me a slip of yellow paper. “From the last time.”
“Last time? How often does that happen?”
“It happens, Prez.”
I glanced over at Rooster, who helps run our bar closer to the clubhouse, and he nodded with a shrug.
“I’ll call them soon. I gotta go talk to Lance real quick.”
After telling Lance the new shipment should be coming in two days, I stepped out the back door and lit a smoke while I called about the tap repair. That was quicker than the chicken issue.
All of this shit was making my head hurt.
