“I see ye’ve got a new customer. Bonny lass, she is,” he chirped, changing the subject.
“Aye, though, I am no’ charging her full price. And I’m giving her the meals for free, so she’ll hardly be my salvation.”
Theodore clucked his tongue. “Following those business practices, ’tis no wonder ye arena making any profit.”
“Ye arena funny. The lass looked like she needed a helping hand. I couldna say nay.”
Theodore wagged his finger at him in the air. “See. That is where ye are losing money. Ye are too soft.”
Gunn barked out a laugh. “Now that is comical. At no point in my life has anyone e’er accused me of being too soft.” Anything but, actually. He had a reputation around town for being one not to mess with. Well known in the boxing clubs, he still remained undefeated. Proud of it, too. And when things got too rowdy in the pub, it was he who single-handedly removed the rabble-rousers.
“Who is she?” Theodore asked, interest lighting his brown eyes.
For some reason, his interest in Jocelyn irked Gunn.
“Just a lass passing through. I dinna ken how long she will be staying.”
It wasn’t a lie.
“Well, if ye arena charging her, chances are strong she’ll stay for quite some time.”
Gunn narrowed his eyes. “I dinna think she is here to take advantage of me, if that is what ye are suggesting.” He walked over to the sideboard and poured two glasses of whisky and handed one to Theodore. Savoring the burn as the amber liquid smoothed its way down his throat, he wet his lips. “She appears to have had a rough time of it. I only want to make her journey a little easier.”
Theodore harrumphed, his expression letting Gunn ken that he didn’t believe him. “How long have ye been saying that to yourself to get ye to believe it?” He chuckled, sipping his whisky.
“Enough about my guests. Is there something that ye need? Ye arena due to work this week.”
As the manager, Gunn had kept Theodore on, but he’d severely cut back on the time he spent here. This was a week he’d given him off.
Theodore shrugged, and picked at a piece of lint on his trousers. “I just wanted check in to see how ye fare.”
“Ye ken how the business is struggling. If ye have any idea on how to make the patrons come back, I’d appreciate it.”
“’Tis such a shame.” Theodore shook his head, his lips pursed. “The Thistle & Pig used to be such a thriving business. It seems e’eryone has moved on to other pubs.”
“My whisky is just as good, if no’ better, than anyone else’s. I’ve got the finest cook. The cleanest rooms. I need to think of something or I’m going to have to close its doors.”
With raised brows, Theodore assessed him. “’Tis that bad? Are ye certain?”
“’Tis bad. Verra bad. I already have ye working half your time. I’ve let some people go. My mind is open to suggestions, but whate’er they are, they need to be quick because I feel like I’m on a sinking ship when it comes to this place.”
“Thankfully, ye’ve got your other businesses and properties. Surely ye could move around money if needed.”
“Aye, mayhap I could. But I dinna want to throw it away, which is what I feel like I would be doing if I just keep pushing money in this place.”
It was a lie. He had already put the spare money he had into the pub. Truth be told, there wasn’t anything left for him to give. His estates were running on the bare minimum. Luckily, he’d been able to retain his staff there, but if he took any more losses, that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. He was desperate.
Desperate.
The word tasted sour on his tongue.
But his problems were his own. He wasn’t about to announce to the world just how dire his situation had grown to be. The Thistle & Pig needed to thrive once again. When it did, everything would right itself.
Gunn just needed to figure out how to turn it around.
Theodore stood. “Well, I am sure ye will think of something. I must go. I’ve got business elsewhere, but I wanted to check in. I shall see ye next week.”
Gunn watched him leave and sank back into his chair, cradling his head in his hands as he stared at the ceiling. What could he do?
