Page 20 of Rough

“Please hold,” the clerk advised.

I tightened my jaw. I was tired of being placed on hold. The same dry woman clicked back on the line a few seconds later.

“Sir, what is the property address?”

“1040 Sycamore Avenue,” I stated.

I heard the sound of fingertips clacking against a keyboard.

“I have your letter pulled up,” she said after a few seconds.

“Okay… so what does that mean?” My patience was a thin film of ice that was cracking in the middle.

“It means there will have to be an investigation before the license can be reinstated,” the woman affirmed robotically.

The pressure was building in my head. I didn’t want to become a fire breathing dragon in front of this lady, but she was pushing her luck already. It was obvious that she was simply reading back the information on the letter to me and making no effort to figure out the problem or find a solution.

“That’s what the letter states,” I confirmed. “I already know that much. I just want to know what the reason is behind the investigation. What kind of tip did you receive?”

“I didn’t receive anything, sir,” the woman hashed defensively.

“Do you have a supervisor I can talk to?” I asked.

The woman was quiet for a moment. “He’s not in yet.”

I was cynical and didn’t really believe her, but I couldn’t exactly accuse her of lying either.

“Is there no one who can help me? Or at least provide me with some insight? The evasiveness of this letter is quite disconcerting.”

“I understand that, sir,” the woman said as if she were used to dealing with disgruntled people all the time and had become desensitized to all the complaints she probably received on a constant basis.

I understood where she was coming from. She probably had a tough gig, but she wasn’t willing to meet me halfway and was being difficult. I had no choice but to bark back.

“Well, can you at least tell me when I can get the license back up and running?”

I hated to sound weak and desperate, but until I figured out what to do, I was at the mercy of these people.

“At least a couple of weeks,” she said, her voice monotone.

Her lack of emotion added fuel to the fire of my own derailing emotions.

“This is ridiculous,” I protested. “I have a business to run. Why will it take a couple of weeks? Who is going to make up the difference for all the alcohol sales I won’t be able to bring in now?”

“Sir, the city is backed up. I can put in a request to have it completed sooner, but I can’t make any promises.”

I sighed and planted my head in my hands. At least now she was attempting to try something proactive.

“Fine. Sure. Whatever. Just see that you get my claim in as quickly as possible.”

I hated to sound so self-righteous, but in my defense, it was true. I had a business to run, and my profits were going to take a massive hit because of this inconvenience.

I hung up from the clerk feeling like I hadn’t accomplished anything besides wasting my own breath and energy. It was too early for me to endure this type of stress. I hated getting the runaround, but my hands were tied. I brainstormed who to contact next.

I thought about calling Nelson, the asshole. I could try to manipulate him into giving me a confession that he was behind this suspension, but I didn’t have enough evidence just yet to prove that he was the mastermind behind it all.

All I could do was work around the restrictions. I had no choice until the investigation happened. If I continued to sell alcohol anyway, I would just end up sabotaging myself and my business even further. I would have to play by the rules whether I deemed them fair or not.

The next person on my contact list for the morning was Jimmy Yadar. He was my supplier for all beverages, including non-alcoholic items.

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