His Long Island Iced Tea

by Roxy Sinclaire

  I kind of liked the fact that he seemed to peg me as a spoiled kid, playing with Daddy’s money. While my family’s wealth helped me get a start in the real estate business, I had done a lot on my own. One small investment turned into another and another until my name was in Forbes Magazine. I hated when people called my success “luck”. I worked hard and sacrificed a lot to get where I was. Instead of partying and blowing all of my money at the poker table like many of my colleagues, I spent days doing research on every minute detail and hardly had a social life.

  My friends were always telling me that I needed to enjoy my youth before it was over. I was in my early thirties and hadn’t come close to settling down with anyone. I’d had a serious girlfriend in college, but I hesitated when it came time to make our relationship a little more permanent. She wanted a big house in the suburbs and a bunch of kids. I wanted my apartment in the city so I could remain close to my businesses. Needless to say, she didn’t wait around for me.

  My mom had the same complaint. She constantly asked me when I was going to find a nice girl and settle down. I was finally becoming successful on my own means and didn’t want to slow down for a commitment. No one seemed to understand that I wanted more in life than just a wife and kids. My money made it easy to find interested women, but I just didn’t have the time for much more than a date or two. These girls never liked it when I inevitably had to leave town for weeks on business.

  Of course, I wasn’t in a position to complain. I would do whatever it took to get what I wanted out of life. If that meant pushing personal matters off for a few years, then so be it. As far as I was concerned, the world was just starting to open up for me.

  I picked up the phone beside me and dialed the number for room service. I had a pounding headache, and not for the same reason the rest of the guests in this hotel did.

  “Hi, could I get a flat white with an extra shot?” I asked. “Could I also get an egg white omelet with turkey sausage?” I added as my stomach growled.

  After I hung up that phone, I got another call on my cellphone. I thought about ignoring it, but it was my accountant, who had also been looking at financial documents for the bar.

  “Hey, Bryan,” I said. “Do you have anything good to tell me? I can hardly make sense of these numbers.”

  He hesitated for a moment. “I’m afraid not. Either this guy’s bookkeeper is bad at adding and subtracting, or he’s doing some creative math.”

  I sighed. “Did I made a terrible mistake when I bought this place?”

  “No,” my accountant said after a few seconds of thought. “I can’t base that decision on numbers alone. However, I have reason to believe that this guy is fudging the numbers when it comes to revenue. What I’m seeing here is a much different number than what you were presented.”

  “That’s what I suspected.”

  “Furthermore, there’s just a lot of money that’s not accounted for. I’m talking tens of thousands of dollars. It makes you wonder if there isn’t some criminal activity happening.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Oh, you name it—tax fraud, money laundering, anything that would cause him to report different numbers than what’s really going in and out. I think your offer was too high for what I’m seeing here.”

  “I think so, too,” I said glumly. “There’s nothing I can do about that now.”

  “Nothing but wait to see if you can buy the rest,” he added. “Or, I guess you can wait to see if he’ll slip up and you’ll end up with the rest of the bar.”

  “I don’t know if he’s really done anything illegal yet,” I said in response to the clause in our contract.

  “All I can tell you at this moment is that something strange is going on here. I’ll keep trying to work through these numbers, but I can’t promise that I’ll be able to help. I’d advise you to keep careful records of any transactions for the foreseeable future. If you get to the point where you think you have a case against him, you’ll need really good evidence to back it up.”

  “Thanks, Bryan,” I said as room service arrived with my brunch. “I’ll keep in touch.”

  Once I wolfed down my breakfast, I gave Maximo a call. I was still a little heated from my discussion with my accountant and ready to see if I could catch my business partner in a lie. Unfortunately, he hung up on me the first two times I tried calling him. On the third attempt, I got through. I could hear loud voices in the background, then Maximo’s unhappy growl.

  “What are you doing, calling me repeatedly like that?” he asked, obviously irritated.

  “I’ve been going over the numbers a little more and I wanted some clarification.”

  “Later,” he said. “I’m busy.”

  “”Now,” I responded. “It won’t take long.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Who’s your accountant?” I asked. “Maybe I should speak with him or her.”

  “You leave my people out of this. You ask your questions through me.”

  “Fine,” I sighed. “Let’s start with this—why is your staff making so little if business is going well? Shouldn’t we put more money into good staff to keep them around? I noticed that a lot of their tips are funneled to a different account. What’s that about?”

  “They’re paid enough,” he replied.

  “Okay, then can you explain why your balance sheets don’t account for ten thousand dollars of revenue this past quarter? That’s a lot of money to go missing.”

  Maximo was silent for a moment. I grinned to myself. He was caught.

  “Leave the business to me,” he shouted. “You may own half of the place, but I’m still the one running the show. This is none of your concern.”

  “It becomes my concern when you harass your employees,” I said coolly. “I have a feeling you’re not very popular amongst your staff. Should I ask them whether I should have any reason not to trust you?”

  “Go ahead,” he challenged. “Now, leave me the hell alone and stop meddling in my business.”

  He hung up the phone without a proper goodbye. I placed my cellphone on the edge of the desk and sipped my coffee.

  If he was gearing up for a fight, he’d seriously underestimated me. I may have seemed young and innocent to him, but I had a solid understanding of finance and law. If his behavior around Mia wasn’t indicative of his character, then this conversation was. I finished my breakfast, then headed down to my bar. He should have never called my bluff.

  3

  Alexander

  I was happy to see Mia working at the bar when I arrived. The other girls hadn’t really warmed to me in our first brief meeting. But when I thought about how creepy Maximo was, I assumed that they worried I would treat them with the same disrespect. Mia, on the other hand, knew that I wasn’t cool with that kind of behavior.

  “Hi, Mia,” I said as I approached the bar.

  “Can I get you something?” she asked, setting a napkin in front of me and pouring me a glass of water.

  “No, I’m good.” I laughed. “It’s a bit early for drinks, isn’t it?”

  She gave me a wry smile. “Try telling that to your customers.”

  I looked around and noticed that there were about twenty people sipping cocktails before noon.

  “Oh, right,” I said, feeling silly. I hoped that no one else heard that question. “I was wondering if I could ask someone here a few questions about this place. Specifically, I’m interested in how much money comes in and where it eventually ends up.”

  “I can help you with that,” she said cheerily. Then her face fell. “Would I be going behind Maximo’s back if I gave you that information?”

  I shook my head. “We’re business partners. I have the same right to bar information as he does. Besides, you really don’t need to be worried about him. If he gives you crap about anything, I want you to come straight to me.”

  “Okay,” she replied, wiping her hands on a towel. “Come with me, and I’ll get you some reports,�
� she said, gesturing toward the back office.

  In the small room, I sat on an overturned bucket as she typed away on the outdated computer. For a waitress, she seemed to have a pretty good understanding of the computer system.

  “Okay, what do you want?” she asked. “I can print a daily statement for you. You can see who orders what, how much they paid, and who served the customers the drinks.”

  “I think that’s a little too detailed for me,” I replied. “I’d be reading all day.”

  “How about a monthly statement?” she asked. “I can give you the last four months of income and employee hours logged in that time period.”

  “Actually, that would be great,” I said.

  “You got it,” she said as she printed out several sheets of paper. She slipped a paperclip on the stack and handed it to me. “Anything else you want to know?”

  “I might come back later,” I said, already flipping through the pages. “Honestly, I’m just really interested in the little details of how this place is run. I don’t know if there’s a report that will tell me how the employees like their job, or how the customers respond to the décor and music in this place. Maybe we should set up a meeting to discuss those things—I mean, if you’re interested.”

  She smiled. “That sounds great. I’m off tomorrow. Do you want to come over to my place for dinner?”

  “Oh, we could have dinner at the hotel.” I frowned. “You don’t have to open your home to your new boss.”

  “I think the hotel restaurant is out of my price range,” she said sheepishly, looking at the floor.

  “It’s on me.”

  Mia bit her lip. “I feel like I owe you one for helping me out yesterday. If you hadn’t stepped in, I’d be unemployed. I know my apartment is nothing special, but I’m a pretty good cook. I’d be happy to have you over to talk about the bar, unless you feel uncomfortable doing so.”

  “No, it’s not a problem,” I replied. I wrote my phone number down on a piece of scrap paper and handed it to Mia. “Text me your address and the time you want me to come over.”

  “Seven o’clock tomorrow night?” she asked.

  I looked at my calendar. Nothing.

  “Sounds good.” I smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

  As I walked back up to my room, I wondered if it was inappropriate of me to go to an employee’s home. Then, I remembered what Maximo had tried to do to Mia and realized that I wasn’t capable of doing anything to harm a woman. But it would probably be best if I kept this meeting to myself.

  The next day, my stomach tingled when I saw the reminder on my phone to have dinner with Mia. She was a cute girl, and she seemed like she knew her stuff. I loved talking business with women. I found it incredibly sexy. I’d rather spend hours debating business practices with a girl than pretend to act interested as she talked about her vapid lifestyle.

  That night, I showed up to her front door at seven on the dot. I didn’t want to seem too casual for what was really a business meeting, so I wore a navy suit. But, seeing as it was at the home of an employee, I ditched the tie and opened the top button on my collar.

  She laughed as she opened the door. “You didn’t have to dress up. Now I feel like a slob.”

  “You look great,” I replied as she spun toward her kitchen. The bottom of her floral sundress lifted up to her thighs as she twirled. She walked barefoot on the wooden floor. I felt a little overdressed in my Italian leather shoes.

  “What are you drinking?” she asked. “Beer, wine, a cocktail?”

  I chuckled. I felt like she was waiting on me. “You’re not at work. I’ll take a beer, in its original receptacle, unopened.”

  “Why?” she asked as she pulled two bottles from the fridge.

  “Because I didn’t bring cash for tips,” I replied as I twisted the top off the bottle.

  “Funny,” she said as she returned to the stove. “Have a seat.”

  I sat down at her little kitchen table. Her apartment was small and not very well-maintained, but her décor added a sleek sophistication to the place. At the very least, all of her furniture matched. Clearly, the bar wasn’t paying too poorly. Still, I had to wonder if she ever felt cramped living in such a small space. I liked apartment dwelling, but I also had several rooms in mine.

  “What’s on the menu?” I asked.

  “A garden salad, spaghetti carbonara, and lemon cheesecake. I probably should have asked you what you liked before cooking all of this.”

  “Sounds great,” I replied.

  Mia brought several dishes over to the table and joined me, taking a swig from her bottle before digging in.

  “So, what do you want to know about the bar? Were those reports helpful?”

  “Very,” I said. “So, how do you like working at the LBD? Do you feel as though you’re fairly compensated for your work?”

  She blushed and pressed her lips together.

  “Oh, you can speak freely with me,” I said quickly. “I won’t hold anything you say against you. It’s not like you’ve had to work with any of my rules yet.”

  “Well, the pay is about average for what a bartender makes in this city. I like our customers because they’re usually more laid-back and respectful than some of the other party spots in the city. The other girls are nice, so that makes working there a little better.”

  “Anything illegal?” I asked, fishing for the information I really wanted.

  “Not that I know of, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “I hear there are shady-looking people in his office fairly regularly. I couldn’t say for sure, though.”

  “I see,” I said, realizing that I had hit a dead end. “So, overall, you’re satisfied with your job?”

  “There’s just not a lot of space to move up. I mean, I could be promoted to manager, but then I’d still be serving drinks.”

  “What would you rather be doing?” I asked.

  “Hotel management,” she replied. “That’s what I went to school for, anyway.”

  “Really?” I asked. “You’re a college graduate, but you’re working in a bar?”

  She looked down at her plate. “It’s not easy to get a job after graduation. Places are asking for candidates with way more experience than I have.”

  “What about an internship?”

  “I applied for one at the Millennium,” she replied. “I didn’t get it. I don’t think I have enough connections to even get an unpaid gig. But I needed the money and the LBD was hiring.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll break into the industry soon,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I was probably one of the people with connections she was talking about. I had started working even before I graduated, and I’d never really had to worry about interviewing for jobs.

  “Anyway, my coworkers are great, but there’s a high rate of turnover. One of the major complaints is that we don’t get to keep all of our tips after tax. If you can find a way to pay a little more, I think your best employees would stick around. Or offer bonuses to girls who stick around after six months, then a year, etcetera. We just want to be recognized for our hard work.”

  “That’s good,” I said, making a mental note of her suggestion.

  “I would also recommend hiring more security. Like, if you had guys in plainclothes walking around to make sure the female customers weren’t being harassed by drunk guys, we would be able to pull in more customers. We lose a lot of female clients to the gay bars because they want to drink with their friends without the threat of being harassed by strange dudes. If we were well-known as a safe bar for the career woman, I think that would draw more customers and fewer troublemakers.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I said. “I’m glad we had this meeting.”

  “I’m glad someone is finally willing to listen to me,” she said, getting up from the table to get a few more beers.

  We sat together for hours, discussing the bar, my work, and her background. Mia was funny and easy to talk to, and the hours flew by
. She seemed genuinely interested in what I did, and not just the money aspect. I had no problem telling her all of my secrets for making it big in real estate and giving her management tips in case she ever applied for another hotel job.

  Realizing it was starting to get late, she hurriedly dumped all the dirty dishes in the sink and ran water over them. Feeling guilty that my visit required so much work from someone who already worked so hard, I joined her at the sink to help.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it.” She giggled. “I’ll probably just leave them in water and do it in the morning before I go to work.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. I was feeling a little tipsy. We had been drinking together for hours, and she’d had to open a new case of beers.

  “Positive,” she said, smiling up at me.

  I don’t know what came over me, but I leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. After I did it, I was about to run out of her apartment and pray that she didn’t sue me. Much to my surprise, she kissed me back.

  Before I could even think about what was going on, our arms were around each other and we were making out. I pressed her up against the sink, accidentally getting the back of her dress soaked with soapy water.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’ll pay to have it cleaned.”

  “No worries,” she said, grabbing the bottom hem and lifting the whole thing off over her head. She tossed the garment to the side and pulled me toward her. She wore a lacy pair of underwear and a matching bralette, so sheer that nothing was left to the imagination.