Page 17 of Iris
“Yes, boss?” She turns from her inventory and sashays over. Again, I’m hit with the mild regret of not shitting where I eat because Freya is a gorgeous thing. But she’s worth more as a friend and worker, and I’m never risking it for a blowjob and a fuck. Or maybe I’m not that interested, if it comes down to it.
Complications aren’t my style.
“Let me know your thoughts.” I push the first bottle to her. She opens it, pours a small finger into a shot glass, and takes a sip. “And how was Emmie?”
“Wow…” She shakes her head. Then answers my second question. “She was good. Got away from me at the fire in the sky or whatever bullshit they called it. It was just a barbeque. But Xavier said the ball went well, and the owners of the mansion have privately expressed interest in getting more?—”
I wave that off. “You think we can move this new booze?”
“Here? Are you turning this into a high-class joint, boss?”
Leaning over the bar, I grab two glasses, open the next bottle, and top hers up before pouring a little of the prime liquor into each glass.
“Nope,” I say. “But these are just the start of the exclusive, small batch liquors I’m thinking of selling to each ball thrower.”
“Including the Monarch?”
I grin, then lean on the bar. “Especiallyher.”
I push the other glass to the end of the bar as the door from downstairs opens and Xavier fills the space.
He scribbles something on his leather notepad and tosses it down.
What’s this?
“The other bossman here figures you can move these at the various events this Season.” Freya says after reading the message.
He could use his phone or sign, but Freya only knows the basics and Xavier is Xavier. Mulish and old-fashioned, as much as he’s big. So, he uses good ol’ pen and paper.
It’s good, but why not stick to the wine and bubbles?
She shrugs, rolls her eyes. “I’m going to head down to check the barrels. Want me to take Emmie? We can go to the p-a-r-k after?”
I like having Emmie in here, having her close. But Freya probably should take her out to be a normal child.
“Bring her back by lunch.”
She salutes and gathers Emmie, who darts away to hug Xavier’s leg. “Papa.” Then she reaches out a chubby arm. Delores hangs from her fist as she hugs me, too. “Daddy.”
Then she nods and dutifully follows her owl army that’s in Freya’s arms.
When they’re gone, I fold my arms. “You stole an owl?”
He raises a brow. he signs.
“So? So that thing’s a Marvin. Worth a fortune.”
Now he frowns at me. His fingers move through the air, and it’s a fine ‘fuck you’ in the exaggerated movements as he signs.
I wince at his choice of words. “More like firing squad.”
Not that there’s a death penalty. But there is prison. Or exile.
he continues.
“Of course. The occasional drugs, the foods the uppity bitch in the Council building bans… If we stop that, then there just might be riots. However, I want to move more into high-end booze. Small batch, rare, to go with the wines and sparkling shit we already sell.”
Xavier stalks up to me, and I don’t move. He’s all muscle. He can be as scary and deadly as he wants. Just like he can be gentle and sweet. But I’ve known him for a long time.
