Christina.
Geils appeared in his hallway, standing much closer to Christina than necessary, another toothpick between his lips. “Take off the ring.”
Christina instinctively took a step back. “Excuse me?”
Geils grabbed her left hand and held it up. “This ring. Take it off.”
On her hand was the enormous engagement ring her fiancé, a doctor named Ajay Maju, had recently given her. Ajay worked at a downtown minor emergency clinic. Given my proclivity for injury, he and I were well acquainted. In fact, I was the one who’d introduced Christina and Ajay after she’d accidentally shot me in the face with pepper spray.
Christina frowned at Geils. “But, sir, the ring—”
Geils slapped a hand over her mouth, and it took everything in me not to grab his arm, twist it up behind him, and push on it until he cried “Uncle!” Christina’s rigid posture told me she felt the same.
“You better learn something quick, honey,” Geils spat at Christina. “What I say goes around here. You got that?”
When she nodded he removed his hand.
Geils pulled the toothpick from his mouth and jabbed it at her for emphasis. “The customers don’t think they got a chance with you, they ain’t gonna drink as much or tip as good. Christ’s sake, a cocktail waitress oughta fuckin’ know that.”
Christina ducked her head. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll go put it in my locker.”
“Leave the cash with Sara until you get back.”
“Yes, sir.”
Christina didn’t look at me as she handed the till back and left to put her ring in the locker. A good thing, probably. All it would’ve taken was a look of violation in her eyes to push me over the edge. Self-control wasn’t one of my virtues.
Till in hand and anger temporarily in check, I retreated into the cash office, closed the door, and set the box on my desk. I picked up Candy with a y ’s envelope, pulled out the cash, and began counting it, noticing some of her body glitter had transferred to the bills. George Washington sparkled like a drag queen.
Merle returned, took a seat, and pulled a file folder from the right drawer of his desk. I watched as he removed a stack of invoices. The one on top bore the Stillwater Spirits double s logo.
Looked like an opportunity to dig for information under the guise of a dutiful worker keeping an eye on her employer’s bottom line. I gestured to the invoice. “I noticed the delivery truck from Stillwater Spirits earlier. I would’ve thought getting liquor from a local supplier would be cheaper.” I hoped it sounded like a legitimate question.
“We didn’t use this outfit until Mr. Geils took over the club,” Merle said. “Their prices are about the same as the local distributors, but Geils got them to waive the delivery charge and agree to rebates when he buys in bulk.”
Rebates, huh? Interesting. The rebates could be legitimate. Then again, the rebates could be a way of crediting Geils for the cost of crystal meth and laundering the drug funds. I made a mental note to pass this information on to Aaron Menger. I wondered if I could make a copy of the invoice to show him. The printer in the office was one of those all-in-one machines that could also make copies, scan documents, and send faxes. But with a security camera in the room, I’d be taking a risk of getting caught and blowing the case.
I kept a discreet eye on Merle, making notes on his bill-paying procedures. He stamped the hard copy of the invoice PAID and scribbled the date below the stamp. He scanned the document, saved it to a computer file, then submitted the payment online. Good. Stealing computer data was often quicker and easier than dealing with hard copies.
The bill now paid, Merle fed the paper invoice into a shredder next to his desk.
Out on the stage, a barely legal girl in pigtails, knee-high socks, and a scandalously short plaid schoolgirl uniform paraded around to the Van Halen classic “Hot for Teacher.” By the end of
Geils appeared in his hallway, standing much closer to Christina than necessary, another toothpick between his lips. “Take off the ring.”
Christina instinctively took a step back. “Excuse me?”
Geils grabbed her left hand and held it up. “This ring. Take it off.”
On her hand was the enormous engagement ring her fiancé, a doctor named Ajay Maju, had recently given her. Ajay worked at a downtown minor emergency clinic. Given my proclivity for injury, he and I were well acquainted. In fact, I was the one who’d introduced Christina and Ajay after she’d accidentally shot me in the face with pepper spray.
Christina frowned at Geils. “But, sir, the ring—”
Geils slapped a hand over her mouth, and it took everything in me not to grab his arm, twist it up behind him, and push on it until he cried “Uncle!” Christina’s rigid posture told me she felt the same.
“You better learn something quick, honey,” Geils spat at Christina. “What I say goes around here. You got that?”
When she nodded he removed his hand.
Geils pulled the toothpick from his mouth and jabbed it at her for emphasis. “The customers don’t think they got a chance with you, they ain’t gonna drink as much or tip as good. Christ’s sake, a cocktail waitress oughta fuckin’ know that.”
Christina ducked her head. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll go put it in my locker.”
“Leave the cash with Sara until you get back.”
“Yes, sir.”
Christina didn’t look at me as she handed the till back and left to put her ring in the locker. A good thing, probably. All it would’ve taken was a look of violation in her eyes to push me over the edge. Self-control wasn’t one of my virtues.
Till in hand and anger temporarily in check, I retreated into the cash office, closed the door, and set the box on my desk. I picked up Candy with a y ’s envelope, pulled out the cash, and began counting it, noticing some of her body glitter had transferred to the bills. George Washington sparkled like a drag queen.
Merle returned, took a seat, and pulled a file folder from the right drawer of his desk. I watched as he removed a stack of invoices. The one on top bore the Stillwater Spirits double s logo.
Looked like an opportunity to dig for information under the guise of a dutiful worker keeping an eye on her employer’s bottom line. I gestured to the invoice. “I noticed the delivery truck from Stillwater Spirits earlier. I would’ve thought getting liquor from a local supplier would be cheaper.” I hoped it sounded like a legitimate question.
“We didn’t use this outfit until Mr. Geils took over the club,” Merle said. “Their prices are about the same as the local distributors, but Geils got them to waive the delivery charge and agree to rebates when he buys in bulk.”
Rebates, huh? Interesting. The rebates could be legitimate. Then again, the rebates could be a way of crediting Geils for the cost of crystal meth and laundering the drug funds. I made a mental note to pass this information on to Aaron Menger. I wondered if I could make a copy of the invoice to show him. The printer in the office was one of those all-in-one machines that could also make copies, scan documents, and send faxes. But with a security camera in the room, I’d be taking a risk of getting caught and blowing the case.
I kept a discreet eye on Merle, making notes on his bill-paying procedures. He stamped the hard copy of the invoice PAID and scribbled the date below the stamp. He scanned the document, saved it to a computer file, then submitted the payment online. Good. Stealing computer data was often quicker and easier than dealing with hard copies.
The bill now paid, Merle fed the paper invoice into a shredder next to his desk.
Out on the stage, a barely legal girl in pigtails, knee-high socks, and a scandalously short plaid schoolgirl uniform paraded around to the Van Halen classic “Hot for Teacher.” By the end of
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