Chapter 27: Booming Business

During the weekend, the Carter siblings gathered in the living room.

Elena expertly operated the cocktail shaker, ensuring a consistent and measured shake.

Martin offered some guidance, saying, "Take your time with it, let the wine thoroughly mix with the ice cubes. And when using a martini glass, make sure it's properly chilled."

Elena retrieved the martini glass from the ice cubes, skillfully unscrewed the shaker, and poured the Manhattan cocktail. The final touch was to garnish it with cherries.

However, Elena couldn't find the cherries and exclaimed, "Where are my cherries?"

Lily, who was sitting on the sofa, playfully revealed the hidden bowl behind her back. She chuckled and admitted, "Elena, I accidentally ate all the cherries. Weren't there any left?"

Martin, seated nearby, jokingly added, "Hall, take off those stinky socks and stuff them in idiot Lily's mouth!"

Lily promptly jumped up and dashed to her room, with Hall chasing after her.

Ignoring the antics of the two, Martin turned his attention back to Elena. "The Manhattan is often referred to as the queen of cocktails. It's relatively simple to prepare, with multiple variations depending on the choice of base liquor. You should practice making it more often."

Elena nodded and affirmed, "I'll persevere, even if it's only for the sake of darn money."

Just as Martin's phone rang, he moved to a quieter spot to answer it, only to find Vincent on the other end urgently requesting his presence at the club.

Elena waited patiently for him to finish the call and said, "You've got something to attend to; I'll start memorizing the recipe you wrote down."

Before pocketing his phone, Martin noticed a piece of paper that had been washed, revealing a lottery ticket stub. He asked, "Did we win the lottery last time?"

Elena shook her head, replying, "Luck wasn't on our side."

Harris, who had just exited his room on the way to the restroom, spotted the wine bottles and utensils arranged in the living room. He paused and remarked, "I've healed about fifty percent; you can go out and earn some money."

Elena voiced her objections, saying, "You need to focus on your recovery, and you can keep the money you earned last time. Plus, don't let Scott find out about it."

The club was eerily quiet during the day, and upon Martin's arrival, he ascended to the second floor and entered Vincent's office.

Vincent tilted the brim of his cowboy hat and gestured towards a seat, saying, "Take a seat wherever you like."

Seated on a single sofa, Martin inquired, "Boss?"

Vincent acknowledged, "The club's revenue from customer flow has been holding steady recently. You've done a good job."

Martin knew that calling it "steady" wasn't necessarily a compliment, so he responded, "With the assistance of the ATL Woman Association, we've filed a lawsuit against the Methodist Church. It's received coverage in liberal newspapers, which should help maintain our customer flow for a longer duration."

Vincent, however, seemed uninterested in that topic and asked, "Regarding business, do you have any fresh ideas?"

Martin answered honestly, "Boss, I'm not well-versed in business."

Having spent the majority of his past life on the carnival circuit, Martin didn't possess a background in business acumen.

Vincent nodded understandingly and pondered, "I want to increase the club's revenue by another third. What do you think?"

This was the opportunity Martin had been waiting for, but he understood that he couldn't simply ask for it. He needed to make Vincent cut elsewhere before getting a share for himself.

He replied in general terms, "I believe there are two areas we could focus on: boosting ticket sales through increased customer flow and augmenting sales revenue within the club."

In truth, Martin had considered both aspects, with a particular emphasis on the latter, catering to the unique preferences of the liberated women who frequented the club.

Vincent appeared somewhat disappointed but inquired further, "You haven't thought about this before?"

Martin explained, "I've been preoccupied with the lawsuit against the Methodist Church." He continued, "I'll give it some more thought."

Vincent scrutinized Martin for a moment, observing his deep contemplation, and eventually sighed quietly. Vincent understood how to motivate his brothers effectively, especially when it came to energizing them before a club opening. Words alone wouldn't suffice.

He stated straightforwardly, "I'll offer a $10,000 bonus."

The figure was enticing, and Martin was still engrossed in thought. He replied, "Boss, I'll come back to you when I've come up with something."

With a wave of his hand, Vincent dismissed Martin from his office.

As Martin descended the stairs, he contemplated the substantial sum of $10,000. Receiving it would ensure he didn't become penniless after a failed attempt to sell something unique.

In the meantime, Vincent gathered a few savvy individuals within the club for a brainstorming session. Bruce, the jokester, suggested plastering Hart's posters everywhere, and Golden Retriever proposed introducing flour... The last individual to speak up was Hart.

He confidently declared, "Leave it to Martin!"

Vincent was on the verge of breaking his composure and hitting him on the head with an ashtray. He contemplated smashing it into pieces!

Vincent felt somewhat helpless. Most of the genuinely clever or knowledgeable individuals had left for more conventional industries.

Approaching six o'clock, the club was on the verge of opening. Bruce wiped down the bar and asked Martin, "Any ideas yet?"

Martin shook his head with a smirk, remarking, "God is a black man."

Bruce countered, "What about printing Hart's image on taxi advertisements all over the place?"

Martin quipped, "Did the boss approve it? Did he give you a bonus? You should treat him, old pal!"

Bruce gestured toward the stage, where Hart and Carrington were preparing for their performance. He exclaimed, "Have your idiot sons, Hart and Carrington, put on wigs and prosthetics to join the act.

Martin playfully retorted, "I asked for daughters, not sons. Keep them for yourself."

Bruce suddenly inquired, "When is your movie going to air?"

Martin had specifically inquired with Andrew about this and responded, "Next Saturday at 10:30 p.m. on Cable Channel 2."

Just in time, Hart and Carrington emerged with their trendy boy band, ready to take the stage. Bruce shouted out enthusiastically, "Folks, this is our idiot actor's first movie. It's airing next week, so don't miss it!"

The male patrons in the club playfully jeered in response.

Martin thought to himself, "If you can find me, I'll be surprised."

As the club opened for the evening, a large influx of female customers streamed in, and everyone got busy.

Ever since Martin's arrival at the club, the number of male patrons had dwindled significantly. After all, gay men had their own dedicated establishments. Due to media attention, male customers had all but disappeared.

As the clock approached ten o'clock, Martin exchanged farewells with Bruce and left the club a bit early.

He didn't wander far; he grabbed a can of beer and stood on the side of the street, keeping a close eye on the Bar across the road.

The club's clientele consisted predominantly of women, and by this time, more patrons were exiting than entering. Ivan, tasked with monitoring the entrance, joined Martin and inquired, "Are you ready to deal with those rascals?"

Martin, tossing another can of beer to Ivan, questioned, "How deep is your grudge?"

Ivan opened the beer, took a swig, and through clenched teeth, replied, "As an Eastern European immigrant, my family has been discriminated against and oppressed by them ever since we came here. These gangsters..." Martin interjected, "Don't go looking for trouble."

Ivan chuckled at the warning.

As Martin conversed with Ivan, his eyes remained watchful. He keenly observed female patrons exiting the Strip Club. Just as he'd observed on several prior occasions, some of these women didn't head straight home; instead, they migrated to the Bar on the opposite side.

The Bar allowed free entry and enticed patrons to continue drinking.

Discarding his empty beer can, Martin checked his pockets to ensure he had cash, then strode across the street to the entrance of the Bar.