Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Secure Job
In various situations and with different people, Martin employed varying strategies to adapt.
This time, he slid a $7 tip in front of Vincent, who pushed it back with a firm statement, "Tips are personal." He cut to the chase, asking, "How many types of cocktails are you proficient in?"
Martin abandoned unnecessary chatter and replied, "I can make common cocktails. I won't claim to be a master, but I'm at least average, meeting the standard." While he may have lost out on a bartender role, he never let go of his bartending skills, which he had honed over the years.
Vincent followed up, inquiring, "How can costs be minimized without compromising taste?"
Martin had already contemplated this scenario, asserting confidently, "I can ensure that certain pre-made mixes are more profitable." While receiving tips, he had been carefully observing, recognizing that for female customers, this was more of a performance; they weren't overly concerned about taste. As long as the basic flavor was maintained, it would suffice. Even civilized people could sell such drinks.
Vincent's expression suddenly darkened, and he questioned, "Are you anything like Jack?"
Martin quickly adopted an attitude of deep respect, saying, "Mr. Vince, even with ten times the courage, I wouldn't dare deceive you. That old scoundrel Jack's true nature has been revealed under your astute gaze, and every move I make is laid bare before your wisdom."
Vincent was quite pleased and stated, "You'll be the bartender at the House of Beasts, earning an hourly wage of $8. Payroll is processed every two weeks, and your debt will be settled concurrently."
The primary source of income in this role came from tips. With his capabilities recognized, Martin cautiously broached the topic of his club membership and the interest.
Vincent contemplated briefly before relenting, "We'll calculate only the total interest, with no further compounding. You'll pay off an additional $7,000, and your debt will be cleared."
Martin began to feel somewhat at ease, hoping that this opportunity at the Marietta Troupe might open up.
"First, you need to show me your worth," Vincent emphasized, valuing Martin's approach to Long Island Iced Tea more than his bartending skills.
Needing money urgently, Martin inquired, "When can I start working?"
Vincent pointed toward the bar and replied, "Right now."
Martin ceased his chatter and entered the bar area. There, he found a customer ordering a Bloody Mary.
This cocktail, famous for its various variations, was well-known, and Martin decided to use an American recipe that had gained popularity after 2010, believing it would better suit the American palate. He promptly served it to the female customer and was rewarded with a $2 tip.
Bruce approached and asked quietly, "Did you get the boss's approval?"
Martin quipped, "In a civilized manner, yes." Then he added, "I thought you were the club's bouncer."
Bruce shook his head, remarking, "Times have changed. There's no future in fighting and violence. To adapt to the changing times, I've put down the gun and learned to bartend. It's not just me; even the boss has learned to run a legitimate business." When a woman came up to the bar for a drink, Martin stopped talking and focused on his work.
In a short time, the total in tips exceeded $15. The number of customers coming in and out of the club remained around 50, limiting Martin's potential tips.
During a lull, Martin asked, "Is business like this every day?"
Bruce, wiping a wine glass, explained, "It's a bit better on weekends. The club is still new, and its popularity hasn't fully spread."
Martin was surprised, asking, "No advertising?"
Bruce, smiling like a civilized person, teased, "You don't know, right? Well, you wouldn't."
Feeling somewhat belittled by the paper-licking enthusiast, Martin inquired, "What do you mean?"
Bruce straightened his shirt with an air of sophistication, "Local regulations in Georgia prohibit direct advertising of clubs in the media or public places. The owner spent money to post job listings, but that's mostly a side effect."
Martin looked around the half-empty club and commented, "Doesn't seem very effective."
Bruce continued diligently, wiping wine glasses and bottles, "The boss insists that the club must operate within the bounds of the law as a legitimate business."
Martin had his doubts about this. Could loan sharking by Vincent be considered lawful? Or was it a front for money laundering?
The music began, and the handsome men on the circular stage began their performance. While the bar was relatively quiet, Martin continued to inquire of Bruce.
Vincent had invested heavily in the Hulk Mansion, hiring high-paid stripers, professional choreographers from the Savannah School of the Arts, and a publicist for promotion. Despite opening nearly a month ago, the customer base was still limited and far from the expected goal.
At the end of the night, Martin had collected $21 in tips.
As he left the club and walked toward the CMB platform, which was covered in taxi advertisements, two black men with dreadlocks and dressed in black clothing suddenly emerged from the darkness under a dimly lit streetlight.
With their potent abilities, they effectively concealed themselves in the dark, making it hard to spot them from a distance.
Without hesitation, Martin turned and ran, and the two men chased after him immediately.
Bruce, who had also finished his shift, was walking toward Martin. He tossed his open jacket aside, reached into his armpit with his right hand, drew a pistol, and pointed it forward, shouting, "Back off!" The black men halted, raising their hands and retreating step by step.
Martin could clearly see that both men were carrying knives.
The black men retreated a sufficient distance before turning and fleeing.
Martin finally realized that he had gravely underestimated Bruce, and he commented, "Brother, I'm such a fool. Now I understand why you displayed your gun when you were still a civilized person."
Bruce holstered the gun and explained, "This is the security provided by civilized people."
Martin requested a ride, offering $5.
Bruce headed toward his parked Dodge pickup truck on the side of the road, stating, "We'll go without charge."
Martin didn't insist and took a seat in the passenger side, saying, "I'll find a way to get you a bunch of signed crew photos later to meet your desires."
Bruce started the car and drove toward Marietta in the northwest. "That's a great idea," he said.
Martin admitted defeat. Bruce added, "Here's some advice: you'll need a car and a gun."
Martin inquired about obtaining a gun, and Bruce nodded, "Georgia's gun laws aren't very strict. You can easily purchase a firearm through legal channels. But I'd recommend against getting a black-market gun; it'll cause a lot of trouble."
Bruce grinned honestly, "Interested in buying a gun and learning to shoot? I hold a firearms instructor's certificate, and I only charge $10 an hour. I also know the owner of a second-hand car dealership; I could introduce you. Let me earn a commission."
Martin noted wryly that "free" was often the most expensive option. It seemed odd that Bruce would charge him a fare, so Martin responded with a middle finger.
Bruce offered some more advice, "You should also consider getting a second-hand car, so you have a way to escape if needed."
Martin realized that, with a clear head, his primary thought was always about escaping. For someone in his dire situation, running away was a common theme.
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