Page 47 of The Guy in the Alley

It was totally doable. Chip and I had walked it in eight minutes, and then I’d jogged the stretch in four minutes the other day. But that was the point. Easy wins attracted more people with open wallets.

In other news, karma was real, and Jamaal was having fun with her. This whole week, my old man had joined Jerry and Malcolm at the bar, and I was fucking over it.

I’d obviously known my folks would come home for St. Patrick’s Day, but I hadn’t anticipated them being in my face so much. They went to Sarah’s to sleep; that was all. Well, Ma went off with Chip a lot too. But Dad? He was an official member of the Senior Circuit now.

“I want everyone in front of the bar in five!” I yelled. We were opening in fifteen, and I needed to run through everything once more.

We opened late every Saturday before this holiday, because we had so many preparations to finish, and with St. Patrick’s Day falling on a Sunday this year, it meant we had two days in a row to do it up big. And I was going really fucking big. The Clover had turned into a shamrock factory, and the entire week had led up to this weekend. Adam and Everett were in town too, and both had helped me run promotions for the bar. The ceiling was a sea of green balloons, streamers, and leprechauns, and every item on the menu came with something green, whether it was dye or a decoration.

I had spent money we didn’t really have in order to magnify everything Dad had done in previous years.

He sat quietly at the bar and just watched me with an easy smile on his face.

I didn’t fucking like it.

Maybe because I felt the pressure. I had a note with the total of this weekend’s expenses burning a hole in my back pocket. From alcohol and food to decorations and marketing material. From extra staff and everyone’s wages to ad spends and additional bar tables we’d rented.

One by one, the staff gathered around the bar, Adam and Jamaal staying behind it with me. Almost everyone was working today, with several of us doing double shifts. A total of sixteen for each shift. We were open from five PM to two AM today, ten AM to one AM tomorrow. Because tomorrow, we were doing a St. Patrick’s Day lunch with burger specials and ice cream sundaes. We’d put a bit more focus on families than drunks for tomorrow, partly so we could run the soup kitchen as usual. It seemed to work anyway, because we were fully booked.

Despite that, I saw expenses everywhere.

Deep breath.

I grabbed a chair we kept back here and climbed up to stand on it. “All right, listen up! Green shit’s about to hit the fan, and today and tomorrow, it’s extra important we run a tight ship. The only people allowed behind the bar are Adam, Jamaal, Tonya, Julie, and me.” I found the girls and addressed them next. “Four drops of dye in each beer glass, three for cocktails, one for shots. We need the bar constantly packed with glasses.” I turned to Petey, Colin, and Sandy next. “Petey and Sandy, I trust all yous to run the kitchen as you always do, and Colin, you keep slinging glasses. Soon as you fill a rack, you wash it.”

“Yeah, boss,” Colin replied.

Next up, waitstaff. “Marisol, you’re in charge of the servers today,” I told her. “It’s gonna get stressful as shit, but we gotta keep the energy up—I wanna see smiles on all our faces, ya hear?” I nodded at our three security guards. Two of them were from a security company, and Armas worked here. “Armas, you keep an eye on our staff. We know from previous years that motherfuckers get handsy and disrespectful. You focus on our people, and Antoni and Billy will focus on the customers.” I pointed to our rentals. “No excessive force, or I’ll get fucking violent. Just get them outta here if they cause problems.”

They nodded once in understanding.

I moved on. “Okay, so…Marisol and Sandy, you each have one or two people on cleanup duty. It’s gonna get messy real quick, and…hold on.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I reckoned it was Vince—yeah, it was. I read his message, and a breath gusted out of me.

Thank fuck. Oh fucking hell, that was a relief.

I swallowed as an overwhelming rush of nervousness and anticipation washed over me.

“The, uh…” I cleared my throat. “The first two riverboats are on their way, and both are full.”

“That’s fucking awesome!” Tonya cheered, applause erupting among the staff.

“Now we’re talking!”

“This is gonna be wild.”

We were used to wild on St. Patrick’s. I was shooting for the level above that. My hope was that we’d be in the black halfway through the service tomorrow.

I cleared my throat again, and I twirled a finger to get us back on track. “Settle down—we have more ground to cover.” Jesus, I’d never been this nervous before. I took a deep breath as everyone quieted, and I was painfully aware of Dad watching me. “In order to stay on top of things and maintain a high level of performance, it’s important you take your breaks. But we also need you to choose the time wisely. Communicate with each other, okay? You get five minutes every hour to take a breather in the alley, and the kitchen staff will keep the fridges full. Drink water, grab a snack in passing, sugar it up with pop. Same with your meal break—choose wisely and feel free to use the office or the stairs in the back for peace and quiet.”

Adam stepped closer to me and geared up to say something, so I nodded.

“Remember to encourage customers to take pictures and use the hashtag #TheChicagoCloverRun! Don’t be afraid to ask them to take a selfie with you for our social media accounts either. Just make sure to get their consent before you send me the photos.”

Which reminded me. “As of last week, we have a domain for the Clover Run, and Adam, Julie, and Marisol have spent the week talking us up on Tripadvisor, Reddit, Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok. So whether people use the Clover Run hashtag or the Dearborn Clover tag, all roads lead back to us one way or another.”

“And don’t forget!” Adam hollered. “Our Google score is up from 3.9 to 4.1 since November! We have all the reasons to celebrate!”

I grinned as everyone applauded again, and I couldn’t describe the feeling. But I knew one thing—I was going to do everything in my power to make the Clover a workplace you didn’t wanna leave. Granted, the bar was in desperate need of a financial buffer, but my employees came right after that.

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