Page 13 of Vortex

“Yes, Pres. Crystal.” Damn, he’s into everything that man. I need to get the hell out of here as soon as Pattie is finished with me.

“I didn’t go to him, he heard you from the doorway. I was only going to tell you we solved the kitchen problem at the bar.”

“I wasn’t aware that we had a kitchen, never mind a problem. We don’t use the kitchen we had smartened up when we renovated the place, so how is there a problem?” I’m sure I’m missing something, but with Mateo and Pattie talking at me all the time, mostly in riddles or at two-hundred miles an hour, it’s no surprise.

“We want to open the kitchen for food again. We had a conversation about this a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes, we did, and we said we didn’t have the correct hygiene safety certificates or something like that.” I vaguely recall the rant they both had, which she now conveniently labels as a conversation.

“Pens has secured all the relevant paperwork and so we can now move ahead with it.” She looks excited, but there is still one hurdle she seems to have overlooked.

“Excellent, Pattie. Now all we need is the staff. I don’t suppose Pens has secured all those too?” My sarcasm falls on deaf ears.

“Why would Pens be involved in that? Anyway, the cook starts today. She can familiarize herself with everything while we discuss what to have on the menu. It will be snacks and bar food to start with and for a shorter window. So, we could say from five to nine we serve food and see how it goes. The cook, a kitchen helper, and maybe two servers should get us off the ground. Bank says we can afford that before we even sell a burger.”

Finishing my breakfast, I push the plate to one side, sip my coffee, and look over the rim of my mug at her. “You two have this all worked out, you think?”

“I don’t think we’ve overlooked anything.”

“Supplies. Where are the supplies for this little venture coming from?”

“They will be delivered from Monday through Wednesday. We spoke to Goldie at the diner, and she put us in touch with her suppliers. We’re getting a discount as new customers, and she’s getting a little something for referring the business. Win/win.”

“Well, you kids just have it all sorted out, so you run with it and let me know how it all pans out.” I dump my dishes in the sink, and as I turn to leave, I see the deflated look on Pattie’s face. I can be such a dick at times. “Pattie, that’s good work. Don’t let me being a dick take anything away from the hard work you and Mateo have obviously put into this. Well done. Who’s the new cook, by the way?”

“Anya. Julia is going to take over cooking here for the club. She’s more than capable, and Anya will be able to help her until the bar's food serving hours increase.” Pattie looks pleased with that.

“Who’s taking over the cleaning from Julia?”

“Well, that’s something for Pres to arrange.” Pattie slips off her chair and puts her cup in the sink.

“Good luck giving him that little nugget of information. He’s not going to like that.”

“No, he won’t. That’s why Mateo and I took a vote on it.”

“Oh yeah? Who lost?” I grin at the thought of Pres going mad at the poor soul that has to tell him.

“Oh, you did. The vote was unanimous.” She laughs and slips out of the kitchen before I fully understand what just happened.

Five minutes later and my ears still ringing, I have a job to do today. I have to find a replacement cleaner for Julia. Where the hell do I start to find a cleaner?

My phone buzzing continuously in my ass pocket is spoiling my ride. I should have answered it on the first ring, but I just wanted a few minutes to myself. Pulling over, I pull the phone from my pocket and see it’s Cannon. Damn, this isn’t going to go well.

“Hi, Cannon. I know, I should have answered sooner. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t give a fuck for your ‘sorry’. If your phone rings, you at the very least check who’s calling. It could be life or death. You of all people should realize that. Get your ass over here right away.”

“Where is here?” I ask sarcastically, and at the wrong time to be so.

“Work it out for yourself, smartass. You have five minutes. Every minute you’re over will be a day of extra duties.” The phone call ends and I’m in the shit again. Twice, and it’s not even lunchtime. Christ, it’s not even brunch.

The pet crem is nearer to where I am, and as I didn’t see Cannon this morning while I ate breakfast, I’m going with the idea that he is at work.

Rolling into the parking lot, I see his truck and breathe a sigh of relief. Unless, of course, he’s on his hog. I can’t make it to the clubhouse in the ninety seconds I have left from my five-minute deadline, even if I had an Apache helicopter. Walking towards the back door, he appears, and he does not look happy.

“What kept you? Turn around. We’re going out front to look at the thing you so obviously missed.” Holy shit, something has gotten under his skin. He looks fuming, and I think I’ll leave my sarcasm buried deep for the rest of this meeting. Standing on the sidewalk outside of the crem, I look around and…see nothing.

“Well?” Cannon barks at me.