This week’s word is stutter and I feel like I’ve used it as a cliche. Oh well, you’ll just have to deal with it. LOL. I wanted to be clever but there really wasn’t a way to do that this time. So, here’s what I have. Be sure to check out the other tales here.
“Nothing wrong with the clientele, Ian. This is the first issue we’ve ever had. Some of those blokes out there may look rough and scare you since you’re from the upper crust of British society, but most of them are hard workers who are only looking for a beer and a game of pool after a day earning wages. I think if you gave them a chance, you’d find they are a bit of all right.”
“So just the divorced women are an issue?” Ian glanced down at the ledger in front of him. A bit embarrassed by being called out for being a snob, he didn’t know how to apologize to Simon.
“It would appear so. I’m not familiar with the wounded woman. It must be her first time in. Two of the others at her table, I did recognize. I didn’t see the actual incident but if I had to bet, I’d bet on the one with the blonde hair. She’s a troublemaker.” Simon took the seat opposite Ian and ran his hands over the surface of the battered desk.
“Can’t you ban people like that? Is there a law here that lets you?”
“Sure I can decide to tell someone they aren’t welcome on the premises but why toss out a paying customer?”
“I thought you said she was trouble.”
“I didn’t stutter, mate, the woman has some problems but she’s in here a lot and always buys nice wines and champagnes—by the bottle at that—and you know the markup on those, right?”
“No, I’m afraid my knowledge doesn’t extend to wholesale wine prices.”
Simon stood, leaned over the desk and poked at a line on the ledger. “See that entry there?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“That’s for a case of Merlot. Twelve bottles in a case. Do the math and see how much per bottle. Not all that much, huh?”
“Okay. I see. And this shows me what?” Ian jotted some notes on his pad.
“Now check this out.” Simon shuffled his hand around on the desktop. Finding what he sought, he handed the paper to his brother. “This is what a glass costs and this is what the bottle sells for at retail.”
“Wow. That’s some kind of markup.” Ian looked across the desk at Simon. “How do you live with yourself?”