4. Risky Business

Doug

The man lay still on the sofa where I told him to rest. He is a beautiful man, maybe if I was gay I might be attracted to him. But I am not, at least that was what I kept telling myself. Ugh, I need to call Billy and let him handle his friend.

Jordan is probably overworked, no I think he most likely is. I am about to do just that when Billy rushes into the room and kneels by Jordan's side. Okay, Billy's attention to his employees is a bit too much if I didn't know that they were good friends before Billy hired him.

And with Jordan's dedication, or in this case too much dedication to the job, I understand why Billy is kneeling and looking a bit too friendly with his bartender. Is the man in a relationship with Jordan? And why do I care? Is not like there's a certain rule about being frisky between employees.

It may seem un ideal in other workplaces but I never care about my employee's preferences. I just wanted them to dedicate their best to their job. But now, seeing how Billy caresses Jordan's hair and softly cleaning the little trail of blood on his forehead I feel a bit uncertain with my feelings. Okay, I really need to remove myself from this situation.

"I think you need to get him to the hospital. Look, I know Kirk can sometimes act like a jerk. But I feel better if Jordan gets looked at by a professional. Don't worry about the hospital bill. It'll be covered under occupational accident." I explain to Billy, who is looking more and more concerned about Jordan.

"Y-yeah, I think he hit his head pretty hard and I don't want him to suddenly faint again on his way home."

"Okay, let's help him to my car. I'll drop both of you off then I'll close the bar for you tonight." Something inside me wants to wait for Jordan at the hospital, but then I don't want the guy to feel awkward that he decided that he didn't want to get checked out. So I bite my tongue and offer to drive them instead.

Yeah, it's for the best. I need to focus on other stuff. More urgent and dangerous stuff that I need to personally take care of.

It's the end of closing time when Tank, the Flaming Skull's VP, calls again. He's telling me that he's on his way to the bar since our last meeting was canceled from his side.

Kirk had gone home and Zak was about to leave. "Go on, you can go. I'll finish up."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. I got this." Zak is out the door ten minutes later and not long after he is gone, Tank arrives with his crew. They're carrying crates of illegal top-shelf liquor. I am on the fence about distributing them. But I am not going to say no to Mac, their Prez. I just need to make sure that no more bottles are going to go missing. I shake my head thinking there are so many things that I have to do to get things in order for the bar. And finding who has stolen the expensive liquor is going to be my top priority. Well, maybe I need to move the crates of liquor first before I can start installing the hidden CCTV around the bar. I have a bad feeling about Kirk, though I don't want to start pointing fingers without evidence.

I am not going to endanger the illegal booze and get myself entangled in an avoidable situation with the cops. I don't need them snooping around my bar, because once you're caught with illegal booze, bad things will follow. I just need to keep it clean and that means no stolen illegal liquor clearly displayed on the bar.

"Doug... how are you?" Tank greets me with a firm smack on my back.

"Good...good, how are you?" The man looks as big as his name. I am tall at six-three and this guy is about the same height as me, but his muscular figure is shaping him to be monstrously bigger than me. The bulging muscles and tats, surely make people part ways just not to be in trouble with the guy. Combined with the thick beard, leather jacket done in his VP patch, and menacing leather boots, he's like the poster boy for motorcycle guys that you need to fear.

"Not as good. Mac had me scour the city to distribute these bottles and I just need a break. So, I need you to keep them all for me, or better yet, so can find buyers and I'll cut you a deal."

"Why can't you sell those to the Irish?" I've heard Tank talked about the Irish mob, months back. They must've had a rough patch if they're not even considering them to sell their goods to. Tank's groan proves my suspicion, and I know I have to be careful and not let him think that I don't want to do him a favor. Working with Flamming Skull can be like walking into a landmine. You never know when you punch the wrong button and everything blows off in front of your eyes.

"Not that I think you can't...fuck, the authorities are really stretching their resources. It's getting difficult just to get cheaper stuff and trying to make a profit with the kind of rules and taxes they're implementing on bar owners." I am not going to complain. I am just going to show him the facts and ease in on my situation with the law.

"Pfft, fuck the Irish. They're cutting us off just because those law guys are on their tails." Shit... I did not expect the situation to be this bad. This makes the whole putting crates of illegal liquor in my bar off the table. I needed someplace else to store them. Quick.

"You have the rest of the crates with you?" I ask before pouring Tank the promised Macallan on the rocks.

"I have a few, but I'm going to send more your way in a couple of days. You can sell them or you can stash them for me until the coast is clear." Tank shrugs before taking a sip of the drink. He hisses in appreciation before cutting the cigar, offering one to me after cutting it for us to enjoy. The first taste is always the best, and you can never go wrong with a glass of Macallan and Tank always has a very expensive taste in everything, that includes his choice of single malt scotch whisky and cigar.

"Okay, then I need to find a place for them. Can you call me hours before that happens?"

"Of course, brother." The mentioning of the word brother should calm me down. But not with Tank. With him, it means far more responsibilities should anything go wrong. And with the Flaming Skull MC behind him, it is a risk that I can not afford.

It's another hour after Tank and his men go back to his club that I finally lock my office door, punch codes on my new alarm system, and finally on my way back home. I decided to call Billy when I arrived at my house. The place is a four-bedroom house that is too big for my taste, but I decided to get it when my ex-fiance wanted it. The word ex still made my guts churn when I remembered her betrayal days before our wedding day.

"Hey, Billy. How's Jordan?"

"Hey, boss. Jordan is home. Got him checked out but he insisted on going home. Though seeing the scan the doctor just said to watch him for the next couple of days."

"Good...good, make sure you give him the time off he needs. I don't want him falling behind the bar again."

"Yeah, about that...he insisted also to work tomorrow, um...that'll be tonight since it's almost four now."

"Shit, sorry, Billy. I didn't watch the time when I called."

"It's okay, I just got back from Jordan's anyway. I talked to his mom and told her what the doctor said. But yeah, I did give him tonight's shift. He really needed the money."

I sigh knowing that I can't tell a guy not to come to work if he wants to. Besides, I can use the extra hands since I will be busy in my office. At least with Jordan around, Billy can do my work and I can do my work for Tank and the Flamming Skull.

"If he really insists, then I want you to keep an eye on him, okay?"

"You got it, boss."

We talk for another couple of minutes before I end the call. I rest back to the bed and think back about what happened with Jordan. I was pretty sure Kirk made him stumble, but then again Jordan shouldn't easily fall unless he was tired. Okay...I have to remind myself to get Billy to watch the guy eat properly and take breaks in between. Maybe I worry too much about the guys working for me, but there was something about Jordan and the thought didn't sit well with me.