Background summary, since far too much happened in
Mentor
to suggest reading / re-reading.
Fiala
made
an ill-considered play
for Kayla, the protagonist of Mentor, who was quite cruel in her rejection. She dropped out of sight for a while, though the end of the story implies she's doing better. I felt she had more to offer. This is her story.
Kayla is now engaged to Anita. This story begins a little over a year after the engagement, and a little under two years after the Halloween party where Fi's life became uncomfortable.
A few others (Tiff, Emma, Heather, Margot, Clare, Suse, Val, Michelle, Allison) make brief appearances or are mentioned, but their backstories aren't really needed here.
~~~~~
Business Sense
Chapter 1 - Manager
My job was something I could never have planned on.
If you'd asked me four years earlier what I'd be doing when I graduated, it wouldn't have been in the top ten. Or anywhere.
Four years earlier, my plan had been to learn about business in order to bolster a worthy non-profit - a women's shelter, a health advocacy group for the aging, an organization providing legal support for the underprivileged, or a similar endeavor. It wouldn't have been to enter the corporate world.
It wouldn't have been to manage a small entertainment enterprise.
Four years earlier, I had never heard of an axe-throwing bar.
To be fair, my plans hadn't changed greatly, except that I'd decided to get some business experience before returning to school to work on an MBA. Most programs recommended spending a couple of years in the real world before beginning. And the last four years had been tough enough that I wasn't ready to move straight to a master's.
I needed a job, whether or not I loathed the idea of working for a corporation.
So when my friend Clare mentioned that her aunt was looking for a back office person for a startup, I applied for the job. Even though the startup was an axe-throwing bar in a gentrified neighborhood.
Shelby, Claire's aunt and my boss, was an entrepreneur. Dark-skinned, in her upper thirties, she was slight, and considerably shorter than me at about five-two, but possessing an intimidating glare that I tried hard to avoid.
Starting young, with family funding, Shelby had invested very successfully in real estate. Now she owned a number of commercial properties. Most of these were leased to commercial tenants, but recently she'd devised her own ventures.
Firebird Games
, her first operation, was a retro arcade bar. Shelby had no interest in video games, but she'd researched the market, the performance of similar businesses in other cities, their demographics compared with the local population, and the proximity of University housing, deciding it would be a profitable venture. She'd been correct.
When the store adjacent to
Firebird
had moved to larger premises (also owned by Shelby), the arcade's popularity had been growing, and rather than re-lease the unit, Shelby considered synergistic options. She had chosen to move the arcade partly into the new space, giving room for a contemporary mutli-player game area, then give the rest of the place over to a second venture,
The Axe's Head
, an axe-throwing bar.
She'd hired me, not for any experience with the business, of course, but to offload a lot of the planning, scheduling and publicity.
The Axe's Head
was still under construction, and would be for a couple of months. Liaising with the contractors was part of my job, though Shelby was supervising me closely. Once construction was complete, I'd have responsibility for staff management, marketing, resource procurement and allocation, supplier negotiation and day-to-day operation.
I would be responsible for choosing the beer that the bar would sell.
It sounded like a lot, and it was, but it was a small operation. Shelby would have overall responsibility. I'd cover as much as I could, and go to her for help. If I could make it work, the experience would be invaluable to pursuing an MBA, and I wouldn't have to submit to a corporate overlord (other than Shelby) to get it.
I would never want to
be
Shelby. My long-term goal was to support the victims of the system, not to be a part of it. But for a member of the exploiting class, Shelby was an excellent employer, paying well above minimum wage, not just for a novice like me, but for the bar staff and support people. I could respect her work ethic and her attitude, and, most importantly, I could learn from her business sense.
My office was a small room I shared with Shelby at the back of
Firebird
. After the construction was done, I'd have my own place in the back of the new bar. Until then we survived with the one cramped room, which served not only to manage both bars, but as Shelby's center of operations for her small empire.
I was comparing insurance quotes - who knew there were risks to flinging around sharpened pieces of metal that could bounce off their targets? - when Shelby interrupted me.
"Hey, Fi, you doing anything after six?"
Turning, I rolled my head to work out a crick in my neck. "Watching Netflix?" I replied.
"A friend of ours just broke up with her boyfriend," she said. "We're taking her out to cheer her up. You should join us. Maybe make a new friend." After a second, she added, "She's straight," as if the mention of the boyfriend hadn't made that clear. Shelby had known of my sexuality from the start, since my friendship with her niece was through Gabby's, a queer-friendly club popular with undergraduate lesbians, like Clare and I had both been until we graduated the previous month.
"Well, no one's perfect," I replied, "and I could use more friends. Even straight ones," I added, with a grin.
~~~~~
At home, I switched my tee for a black blouse with a silver chain, and my jeans for a black skirt and stockings, stepped into my high heeled black boots, then darkened my eyeshadow and lip gloss. My old Kia started on the third attempt, and I made my way to the casual restaurant to meet Shelby, her husband Daniel, and their friend.
I recognized Daniel immediately. I'd met him when I interviewed with Shelby. He was her business partner in real estate, and though he didn't have any involvement in her entertainment ventures, she still called on him to give her plans a sanity check. Black, like his wife, though his skin wasn't quite as dark as hers, he had neatly close-cropped hair, and an equally trim beard. Only a little taller than Shelby, his expression was less daunting than hers, but he seemed no less shrewd. He saw me and smiled a welcome as I headed toward their table.
Shelby's straight friend had a fresh-faced prettiness, with a small nose, freckles and barely any makeup. Her short blonde hair was streaked almost white in places, and her skin tanned, both features suggesting she spent a great deal of time outside. Her shoulders were broader than mine, and she may have been a couple of inches taller, though it was hard to tell, as she was sitting at a booth with Shelby and Daniel.
Blue eyes gave me a curious look as I slipped into the seat beside her. Shelby made introductions, and I gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Jenna," she said, though Shelby had just told me her name.
"Fiala," I returned, as Shelby had only introduced me as Fi. "Call me Fi. Rhymes with tea or tree. Or she or me, appropriately enough."
"Shelby said she hired you to run the axe bar?" Jenna suggested.
"I... think Shelby will run the place," I said. "I'm just there to ease the load."
Shelby shrugged. "Fi will have a free hand to run the place," she said, "as long as she does exactly what I tell her."
We all laughed at that.
The waitress showed up at that point, and I ordered myself a margarita. It would be my only alcoholic drink. I took out my ID and credit card, but Shelby told me to put the card away. Food and drink were on her.
There were few vegan options on the menu, but not zero. Usually at a random restaurant I was limited to a side salad, but at this place I could order an avocado tomato sandwich, and the fried mushrooms were okay if I didn't dip them in dressing. No buttermilk batter, which was a pleasant surprise.
After I'd ordered, Daniel interrogated Jenna about her breakup. I thought he was being tactless, but Jenna was unfazed. Clearly she was very comfortable with both of them.
"He was irritating," she said. "He wasn't abusive or controlling, but he liked to mansplain and talk over me."
"Ugh, I hate that," Shelby said.
"I know, right?" Jenna replied. "The straw that broke the camel's back was when he tried to mansplain azaleas. Telling me how you had to raise their beds and acidify the soil. At that point I excused myself and broke up with him by text. I didn't want him to mansplain the mechanics of breakups, and I feel no shame."
"Jesus," Shelby said, she and Daniel both laughing.
"Uh, why is mansplaining azaleas particularly evil?" I asked. "I mean, other than mansplaining in general being terrible?"
"I work in a garden center," Jenna said, grinning at me. "I'm not a trained horticulturist, but I probably know more about any garden plant than Mason ever did. I've been working with plants for six years now."
She didn't seem any older than me. "Straight out of high school?" I asked
"Yeah," she agreed, then eyed me suspiciously. "You're not one of those people who look down on anyone without a degree, are you?"
"Fuck, no," I said. Then glanced up guiltily at Shelby.
"Yeah. No fucking swearing around the fucking boss, okay?" she said, with a mock scowl, and we all cracked up again.
I nursed my margarita well into the meal, when I switched to iced tea. Daniel took a second beer, but remained sober while Jenna and Shelby were getting buzzed on long island iced tea and gin and tonic respectively. I found myself liking Jenna. She was totally unlike the college students I'd been surrounded by for the past four years, and also quite different from Shelby. I liked and respected my boss, but I would never want to be on the wrong side of her.
When the dinner was over, Shelby decided we were going to sneak into the new place to throw axes. I was dubious, since it was still under construction, but it was Shelby's place, after all.
"Can I give you a ride?" I asked Jenna. "You're not driving, I hope?"
"Fuck no," she said. "Sure. I have to ride in the back seat in Shelby's car."
