Page 1 of Wild Child
1
QUENTIN
Charlie expertly weaves her way through the crowd with the drinks tray above her head. I lose her behind a man in a banana suit, and my neck strains until her shock of pink hair becomes visible at the far end of the restaurant.
She stops at a high table in the corner, and a male cheer erupts as she sets drinks down on the table. I can’t see what they’re cheering at, and it better just be the drinks and not their waitress.
A young man with scruffy hair who’s wearing a cape leans toward Charlie and says something to her. He’s leaning in close, too close.
My blood heats, and I push off from the bar. The banana suit man chooses that moment to sashay across the space between the tables and the bar. He’s got his hands in the air and wiggles his banana-clad butt in time to the music. He’s joined by a man dressed as a Smurf.
I hate bachelor parties. I don’t know why we do them, but Travis assures me they’re good for business. I put it on my mental agenda to bring up with Raiden, the club president, when he gets back.
They come here for the craft beer tasting and brewery tour, but they end up drunk and harassing my waitresses.
Charlie throws her head back and laughs at something the customer has said. I stop in my tracks.
Charlie doesn’t look harassed judging by the way she’s smiling and chatting with the men in the corner.
My fists clench. Raiden asked me to keep an eye on his daughter while he’s away. But it’s a hard job when she’s our best waitress and likes the attention, walking a fine line between talking with the customers and flirting with them.
I almost want one to put a hand on her so I have a reason to kick them all out.
But the men remain annoyingly respectful.
“We’re ready when you are, VP.”
I turn to Travis, and he chuckles at the scowl on my face.
“We gotta stop the bachelor parties.”
“Why?” He generally doesn’t see anything wrong with this situation. “The lunch crowd has gone, and there are no bookings until dinner. The tour bus will drive them back to the resort in another hour. It’s easy money.”
He’s not wrong there. But we’re a biker’s bar on the side of the mountain, not a nightclub.
“There’s a banana in my bar, man.”
He chuckles. “I hear ya. Maybe we need boundaries.”
Technically, the running of the Wild Taste Bar and Restaurant is Travis’s responsibility, and I manage the brewery out back. But both businesses are under the same umbrella of the Wild Riders MC, and we have a reputation to protect.
We’re a stop on a tourist day package that leaves from the Emerald Heart Resort. Our brewery tour and tasting is one of the stops, but Travis somehow thought adding a bachelor party special was a good idea. It’s not. I’ve got a banana and a Smurf dancing in my bar.
“No fancy dress, and the minivan leaves an hour earlier than whatever time you have arranged with the resort. Once the tour and tasting is over, they can go back and party at the White Out.”
Travis frowns. “The marketing is supposed to put off the rowdy lot.”
We position ourselves as a craft brewery, and our marketing is aimed at a sophisticated bachelor party. If there is such a thing.
“The pricing is for the upmarket crowd,” says Travis
“They’re the worst,” I mutter.
Travis chuckles, not committing to anything.
He lays a hand on my shoulder. “The men are waiting.”
Davis is behind the bar for the afternoon, and I lean against it and give him a stern look.
