He stands up, and for a minute I think that he might run his mouth again. A part of me wishes he would. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's assholes who think they can intimidate women.
Keeping his eyes on me he adjusts his tie, pulling it back to the center, running his fingers around the collar, tugging at his shirt. When he doesn't move immediately for the door, I feel a presence at my back, and I know it's my brothers. Not that I couldn't take the guy alone, but it's a lot harder to take on five guys than it is a not even five-foot woman. He leans over a table and I'm about to lunge for him when he grabs a jacket, flinging it over his shoulder before waltzing out the door. I watch it slam shut but remain frozen in place.
My breathing hasn't quite returned to normal and I'm reluctant to turn around. Then I spot Melanie in the corner. Someone's given her a shirt to put on and she has an empty shot glass clutched in her hand. Her face is downcast, but that doesn't hide the shiver and shake of her shoulders. It's a good job I didn't see that before. Mel has been working here a while now, and it would take a lot to rattle her. I don't ask what he did. I don't want to know. Any more information could have me flying down the street after him, and another run-in with the cops is not something I need right now.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I turn to see Whip. "I got this," he says, lifting his chin toward Mel. I nod once, not trusting myself with anything more.
"What the fuck happened?" His tone is clipped, his face twisted in anger. Pres doesn't lose his cool, but this is as close as I've seen him come in a long time.
"It's taken care of." I drop my voice so the others can't hear. "You really need to tell Tracie to let us handle the out of control customers. One day, shit's gonna get bad."
He nods at me, acknowledging I've spoken without actually agreeing to do as I've asked, and walks toward the bar.
I'm about to head back to the office when the guys come up to me. We start to talk and go over club business and by the time I look back up it's after five o'clock. I head back toward the office, it's long past the time that Jasmine was supposed to leave. I didn't know that this bullshit would take so long.
When I find the room empty, I let out a curse. Where could she have gone? My gaze lands on a piece of paper on the desk.
I'm sorry I left before you got back, but I had to get home.
I hope you understand.
See you tomorrow,
Jasmine
I crumple the paper in my hand.
Damn it.
I look around noticing the amount of work she was able to get done. She's made a huge dent in the mess that Tracie left me. Being in here with her earlier was different, she brings a certain calm to my hectic life that I haven't felt before.
My door opens and Tracie peeks her head in. "Busy?"
I waver her in, closing the file in front of me and tossing it on top of the other fifty on the desk. She takes a seat opposite me and, in true Tracie style, gets right to the point. "Sorry if I made shit worse today."
I push the heels of my hands against my eyes, hoping it'll help the growing ache in my head. After a moment, I blow out a long breath and look up, running my hand through my hair and taking it up off my face. "Listen, you just need to understand there are some things you can deal with, and some you can't. You step up to every jackass that comes in here and one day something is gonna go south."
"Where's your girl?" She cocks an eyebrow at me.
My eyes narrow at her. "Don't start."
She holds her hands up and stands up, backing away slowly as if I'm a wild animal with prey in my sights. "Just making an observation." She walks out of the office, but not before giving me a look over her shoulder. A look that sets me on edge.
My mind goes over my different interactions with Jasmine. I can't help but feel that there is something that I'm not seeing.
The ache in my head moves from behind my eyes to the back of my skull, squeezing my brain like a vise. I really need to go home. That, or blow off some steam some other way. But as tempting as that is, there's too much to do here.
I spend the next hour sifting through the piles Jasmine created, marveling at how someone who claimed to have no office experience could have sorted through everything in just one afternoon. She'd even gone to the trouble to arrange the invoices to be paid in date order, adding Post-It notes where I needed to sign. I lean back in my chair, hands locked behind my head, questioning whether Jasmine Burke really was as clueless as she thought she was. Regardless, she'd done what I asked and proved to me she deserves the job.