I shuffled to the edge of my chair. "Chuck, this is the part where you reassure me that everything will okay."
"I'm not sure I can do that, Violet. I'm not sure..."
His hands shook and he'd gone even whiter. What would happen if Chuck went broke? Would he sell the club? He couldn't sell the club. That wasn’t possible. Surely, he was just stressed because he'd have to cut back on his stupid expenses.
"You can sell your car. That's got to be worth a bit."
He scowled. "I don't own that. It's leased through the business."
Wow, you could do that? I had no idea how these things worked. But then I had no idea about any of the financial workings of the club. All I knew was booking bands. I bet those bimbos he drove were leased too.
This was too big for me to comprehend. That throbbing neck vein seemed to have transferred itself from Chuck to me as though he'd handed me his burden. But I didn't want it.
He sat there, hunched over and staring at his hands for long enough that panic set in. He could say something instead of just looking defeated. Surely, he'd know I had a zillion questions. Everyone would. That was a massive bombshell to drop.
My heart sunk like a drowning man. I couldn't get my mouth to work. I had the functionality and facial expressions of a goldfish.
"Is the club going to survive? Should I be looking for another job?"
"I don't know, Violet. I really don't know. He’s running numbers now and trying to figure out how long we have to pay this back. Maybe we can pay installments or something. It does mean that this place has to start making serious money. Enough to cover my tax bill."
I wanted to ask how big the tax bill was but was afraid of the answer. Even though Trouble wasn't anything fancy, it must cost a heap to run, with wages and all that.
We had to pay the bands plus we needed at least two staff in the downstairs bar plus two upstairs on a regular night. Then there was security and cleaning and bussing. I had no idea how much money the club made. Of course, I knew how much the door takings were for the bands and how much we paid them but then there was the bar as well. It wasn't like the place didn't make money.
"We have to make serious cuts. No more bar tabs, no
more free drinks. No more having half a crowd on a Saturday night. We need to get bands that will bring in people, paying customers."
Well, there went all of my work. I could tear next month's roster into pieces. This place had never been like that. That's why I loved my job. It wasn't some ritzy club just out to make money. We gave bands a chance to prove themselves and all the misfits somewhere to gather. Even if Chuck was a jerk, this place worked. It worked as a family and a refuge from the shitty world.
"Will that do the trick?"
"It might, I can't really say at the moment. It's all a mess."
He was right about that. Things were going to change and I hated change. It seemed bloody stupid to me that just because Chuck or his accountant had screwed up, we all had to suffer. The moment of pity I'd had for him passed quickly to be replaced by rage at his incompetence. I knew this was his club but in some ways, it was mine. I booked the bands. That wasn't as easy as you'd think. It wasn't just picking up the phone and telling some bozos to come in and play. It was an art, a special blending of the right sounds and the right people to create something magical. Sometimes that meant seeing the promise in a young band and letting them play a few times to get their confidence. Nurturing them until it all clicked. I’d built it all up and that’s what made it special.
Now Chuck had screwed that all up.
I'd given everything to my job. I had no life outside of work. No other friends, no hobbies. I didn't even do family.
Hell, for my last birthday, my family had given me a gift card to some swanky department store. It still sat in my drawer. I’d never use it. The guys at the club had given me a caramel peanut cheesecake and a vintage pair of Docs. Shit, I really needed.
My hands shook worse than Chuck's and the icky feelings took over my stomach. I stood up. I had to get out.
If Chuck sold the club, I'd be screwed. No job, no money, no friends. People say they'll keep in touch but that's easier said than done. Half the guys who hung out here didn’t even have phones.
First thing, I needed to get Chuck out of my space.
“Well, thanks for telling me, Chuck. Now I have some calls to make so I’ll let you go tell the rest of the staff.”
Wow, I could sound so professional and in control but really, I screamed inside. I wasn’t sure how I’d cope with this. This club was my life.
Chapter 6 VIOLET
ALEX CAME IN EARLY, almost as soon as the bar opened. Carlie nudged me as he walked across the room.
"Is that him?” she asked. “I can see why you were giving Razer the brush-off."